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Calculating Nemesis

By: Kezza67



This story is about a husband who forgives and reconciles with a an unfaithful wife. If that scenario angers you do not read it! I will not be held responsible for your high blood pressure. There is no graphic sex described in this story.

Calculating Nemesis

CHAPTER ONE

I caught the Central Line train at Loughton, having driven in from Abbess Roding as I did every morning. There are a number of villages in that area of north Essex with the suffix Roding. They took their name from the River Roding which rising in the East Anglian Heights flowed southward meandering through the county; changing its name along the way to Barking Creek before adding its waters to the Thames. Roding was sometimes pronounced Roothing, a name going back to Anglo-Saxon times when the river was known as Hrodinga. Those first Englishmen pronounced the letter 'd' as 'th'. It's quite remarkable how we live everyday in this island alongside reminders of more than a thousand years of history.

It was more convenient to get the train at Loughton as the car park there had far more room than that at Ongar. The service from Ongar to Epping had in any case been suspended in nineteen ninety-four, possibly because few, like me, used the service. The train journey was simply a time to think, my sub-conscious ticking off the stations without my having to read the station signs. I had made this journey so many times that looking out of the window was no longer of interest, same old, same old. The backs of terraced housing built after the line had extended out into Essex; a ribbon of humanity following the railway towards green fields escaping from the grit and grime of London. Once busy goods yards had become crowded car parks at the stations along the line as this was now commuter land.. My ears recognised the clickety- clack as other lines that fanned out into the great suburbia joined the artery that fed me and thousands of others into the maul of commerce that was the City. The whine of the electric motors as the train accelerated then a roar and pressure on the ear-drums as the tube train descended into tunnels scarcely wider than the carriage itself; would tell me we had just left Leyton. A gradient took us back into the light at Stratford followed by another descent into tunnel. None of these distracted my attention from the morning paper yet they were filed in my sub-conscious sufficiently for me to know exactly where I was without looking out of the window. I did take notice on arrival at Mile End where hundreds left the Central crossing the platform to the District Line and more hundreds crammed into the spaces they had left until there was standing room only. 

The next stop was Bethnal Green where I would leave. So tightly packed was the carriage that I would start making my way to the doors as soon as the train left Mile End. I would push past bodies that were confined by yet other bodies in the close packed carriage. The ensuing crush forced me to a closer intimacy with these strangers than they or I would wish. Breasts, hips and bottoms were brushed and squeezed involuntary as I struggled through the throng, my briefcase catching in skirts and between legs impeding my progress. At last I reached the doors just as the train squealed to a halt. With a hiss the leaves slid open and I would push out fighting against the surge of passengers boarding the train.

Walking out of the station into fresh air was a pleasure. The London Underground by virtue of being the oldest system of underground mass transit in the world suffered from problems. The most immediate was the lack of air conditioning, but then those Victorian and Edwardian adventurers who built the system couldn't anticipate the advent of that particular convenience. Or that so many people would travel on the system. It wasn't far to my office which was in Old Street and I enjoyed that short but brisk walk. A door to one side of a newsagent gave access to a steep flight of stairs. The Punjabi immigrant who owned the shop waved cheerily when he saw me, making a show of examining his wrist-watch. That was his comment on my unvarying punctuality. Another door at the top of the stairs allowed entry to the lobby of my office 'suite'. Two rooms, the larger front room was the office with my desk and filing cabinets and the other smaller room had become a kitchen with a toilet in the corner. Not exactly a plush suite but it suited me as I had no staff. My briefcase was placed to the side of my desk, the paper went on top of the filing cabinet and I went through to the kitchen, filled the kettle and plugged it in setting it to boil. Back at my desk I checked the phone for messages making notes on my pad of those that were important. I unlocked the filing cabinet and took out the dossier that I was working on. These were the accounts of one of my clients. I was a Certified Accountant and this was my world.

My name...Well it doesn't matter really as I went under a number of pseudonyms. At school I was first called Jessie on account of my lack of height and body weight I was only five foot six and weighed about six stone. I am still five foot six but my weight has increased now. Those who called me Jessie were bigger boys, bullies all who picked on me with impunity. I learned a valuable lesson there apart from the official lessons. I learned that the world worked on 'trade-offs'. The bullies who didn't bother too much about studying; they would slip into a life of crime anyway; still had to pass exams and it would not do for them to be seen as the dunces of the class. I did apply myself to the lessons and soon I was in a position where they needed my knowledge. So an uneasy truce was forged. I helped them, by doing their homework for them, making crib notes for the exams and they would pick on someone else at the same time protecting me from other would-be bullies. Did I feel guilty that others were then the target of their bullying? No. I grew up in the East End of London and that world had always had the strong and the meek with violence happening every day. Strength was not always muscle and men learned early to use whatever talent they had to survive. 

People who were not Londoners would call me a Cockney but they were wrong as I hadn't been born within the sound of 'Bow Bells'. My Dad was a Dock worker. Waiting in line every morning at the Dock gates with all the others to see if the foreman had work for him on that day. He was killed working in the hold of a ship when the net hoisting a load broke. The contents of the net, Brazil nuts, fell on him. Dock workers were always casual labour, so there was no insurance or compensation. After his death Mum would work three cleaning jobs to clothe me and make sure that when I went to school I was properly turned out. My going to grammar school was an additional problem for her as I then needed the sports kit for Cricket in the summer and Rugby in the winter. She managed, often going without so that I had what I needed. When I turned twenty three and had passed my accountancy exams, she left. I suspect that she had a man friend all those years after Dad died and decided that having done her job she could now have her own life. I could manage on my own. I never saw or heard from her again.

In later years at school the name 'Jessie' was forgotten and I became just Jes, possibly an acceptance by the bullies that I was of more use to them onside than as the target of their cruel games. Those bullies had indeed taken up the life of crime and still call me Jes as I now undertake to keep their accounts looking good for the Inland Revenue. They can't declare that the majority of their earnings come from the proceeds of crime. So I created businesses that could show profits for them to declare whilst leaving them with most of their income untaxed and untouchable. I do well out of the arrangement, my earnings are declared and taxed accordingly although quite a tidy sum is tucked away in foreign accounts safe from our greedy politicians. As far as the taxman is concerned I am an honest Accountant and very successful.

I also occupy a position which could best be described as criminally diplomatic. London and all other large cities tend to be parochial. The bosses each define an area that they call 'theirs' and sanction or deny the plans of lesser thieves within their boundaries. The criminal fraternity, usually saddled with a volatile nature are not good at talking to each other so from time to time I would get a request from Mr. Brown to discuss a problem with Mr. Green. I had been blessed with a calm and non-combative nature so I could address the problem and find a solution. Gang wars are not good; they attract too much attention in the papers and from the police. Quiet diplomacy allows crime to flourish without attracting attention. Mr. Brown and Mr. Green are of course pseudonyms as is mine of Mr. Smith when they refer to me. I, of course know their real identities, as I said I went to school with many of them. Commissions received for these services form the basis of my untaxed safety net. 

Crime has changed over the last few years. Bank raids and attacks on Armoured Vans are history. Now crime thrives on internet fraud, credit and debit card theft and cloning. Most people walk around with thousands of pounds available to them in their purse or pocket in the shape of little plastic cards. My clients take advantage of that. It's almost a victimless crime, as the losers are the banks and the insurance companies. I do not kid myself. I am as much a felon as my clients simply by keeping their confidence; under U.K. law Conspiracy is just as culpable as the actual crime. Our system worked smoothly, I was beginning to doubt that I could say the same about my marriage.

I was starting to think that Lily, my wife had something to hide. I had no positive evidence for this, no detail, no photographs, no mysterious calls, no unexplained absences. It was the lack of some details that brought about my suspicions. Accountants look at the detail that others ignore. Credit Card bills come in and most people either look casually at the balance and pay, or ignore them completely allowing the direct debit they have set up deal with the account. I didn't. I examined closely every item and the interest charged. If you believe that credit card companies don't make mistakes you are living in cloud cuckoo land. 

Over the last few months Lily had added to her wardrobe a rather nice dress and a very elegant suit. Even I could tell they were not cheap. At first I was pleased that she wanted to look good for me and she did wear them at social events we attended together. In the main she wore them to work. They were probably better quality than I would think suitable for work. It was curiosity that led me to see how much they cost. The detail that alerted me to a problem was that no charge appeared on her credit card statement. The bank statement, it was a joint account, did not show a charge either. Nor were there withdrawals of large cash sums to cover the cost, so to all intents and purposes Lily had got these clothes free of charge. If there was one thing I had learned in my formative years it was that you don't get anything for nothing in this world so how did she come by these items? It may be that they were provided for her work, after all receptionists needed to look good as the first impression of her employer. The other thought that bothered me was that someone, probably a man had bought them for her. Was there a trade-off somewhere along the line? If a man were to buy a pretty lady some clothes it was usually on the understanding that at some time he would be allowed to take them off the wearer and enjoy the pretty lady when she was unclothed. Was there another man in the picture? I could not say except that this needed investigating. Some I could do myself, but for most of the investigation I needed to find others who could help.

I had met Lily when I called upon a client. She was a newly employed Receptionist, and she was perfect for the job. Pretty, but not beautiful, she had a manner that made it a pleasure to talk to her. Her face was without guile and would reflect her mood. Smiling easily with the person she spoke to and with a talent for empathy that drew the other person to her. Lily was an Essex Girl, an appellation that has become a joke in the U.K. But she was far from typical. Yes, she did wear stiletto heels, but her shoe colour would always match the colour of her dress, and she rarely wore white. If she danced around her handbag in the middle of a club, it was only to protect it from the busy workers of someone like Frank. He mentioned once that most of the 'liberated' credit cards that came to him were borrowed from people in Night Clubs. 

I called upon my client frequently and got to know her quite well. She was not overly intelligent I gathered from talking with her and would be the first to admit it, however she would listen and question trying to fill in the gaps that existed in her education. She was an orphan and had been brought up in a Children's Home which did explain the paucity of her schooling. She did however know how to present herself, always smartly dressed and with immaculate make-up. I was surprised when she let me know that asking her out would result in an acceptance. For our first date I took her for a meal at a good restaurant. She was quite at ease with who she was and didn't try to act. Our conversation flowed easily and we had an enjoyable evening. Other dates followed, to Concerts, the Theatre and Dancing. Lily was conscious of our relative heights; she was the same height as me and would wear flat shoes on our dates although she would wear high heels to work. I told her that it was no problem to me if she wanted to wear high heels.

"Are you sure?"

"It's not a problem." I replied. "I have been looking up at people for all my life, and looking up at you is the best yet." 

From that time on Lily wore high heels and looked damn good in them. Her legs were a work of art. I asked her to marry me, and her tears trickled down her smiling face as she accepted. We honeymooned in Tenerife where Lily who despite her twenty five years was relatively innocent, became very enthusiastic about our physical relationship. I was five years her senior and I had been lucky enough to learn from a couple of experienced ladies. It was particularly satisfying for me when she expressed surprise at the size of my appendage. My height would lead many to assume that I was in proportion in every respect. In truth I was no bigger than the slightly better side of average. But on my small frame it appeared to be large. Lily's enthusiasm continued even when we came back to the reality of the day to day grind.

Accountancy is a dull and dry business, yet pays very well. I could afford to keep both of us, but Lily liked her job and wanted to keep it. We had been married for three years when she changed jobs to work with a company in Chelmsford. She was again the receptionist, but as she explained it was easier to get to work in Chelmsford than Stratford. It was approximately a fifteen mile commute to Chelmsford from Abbess Roding which took her half an hour. The journey to Stratford would take at best an hour. All this appeared reasonable to me, and I replaced her old car with a good used Volkswagen 'Golf' so that she had a reliable car to make the journey.

Lily didn't use her car except to get to work and back, and to shop at a supermarket close to her work. We used my car apart from that, it was bigger and more comfortable and Lily preferred to be driven. The receipts for the services on her car were in my files and noted the exact mileage. I could easily work out her average weekly mileage and estimate the mileage her car should show now, so when I got the chance one weekend when Lily was in the bath, I checked the milometer. My estimate allowed for some extra journeys in the last seven weeks since service, but Lily had managed to clock up some four hundred miles over and above my calculation. Not many miles but when compared to the average worked out from the number of days between services she was driving an average of sixty miles extra per week now. Where was she going in those sixty miles? It was time to get help.

I knew where I could catch Frank at eleven o'clock in the morning. He would be at the 'Starlight'. It's a cliché I know that criminal bosses would own a Night Club, but there was a point to it. With so many people coming and going who actually got to speak to whom and what they discussed was very difficult to say. However at this time of day I was just an accountant coming to talk to a client. Frank had just got in and was drinking his first cup of coffee. He poured one for me as soon as I came into his office.

"Problem with the accounts, Jes?" Frank had started out as one of the bullies all those years ago.

"No Frank." I shook my head. "I have a problem. A personal problem."

"I know. But I'm not a plastic surgeon." He grinned. That was quick repartee for Frank. I smiled thinly before going on.

"I need someone who could follow my wife and tell me where she's going."

"Oh." His face became serious. "You don't think she's..." He left the sentence in mid air.

"It's a possibility." I said.

He sipped as his coffee slowly. Then nodded.

"There is someone. He owes me a favour." Everyone owes Frank a favour. They may not think that they did, but Frank had ways of getting favours out of the most unlikely characters. "I'll talk to him. Do you want to meet him here? I can get him here this afternoon." I thought about it then nodded.

"Yes Frank. That will be good. He will be discreet?"

"He will. If he knows what's good for him." He poured more coffee for both of us. "Jes. If she is playing around, what will you do? Divorce her?" I had thought about that.

"No. If she fights her solicitor would start digging into my finances to get her maintenance increased. I don't want anybody looking into my affairs. It could turn up a lot of things that we would both prefer were kept quiet." He looked up with alarm.

"No. I see where you are going with that. So what will you do?"

"I'll cut her adrift with a monthly payment to keep her quiet."

"I could arrange for a more permanent result."

"Thanks Frank. But no thanks. A body has a habit of being found. We don't want plods treading all over our doorsteps. Besides I couldn't do that to Lily."

"You love her then?"

"Yes I do. But if she's playing around she goes. I couldn't live with her. Ever!"

That afternoon I was back at the 'Starlight'. The man was waiting nervously. A summons from Frank usually had that effect. Frank introduced us.

"Vin. This is Mr. Smith. He needs someone followed and a full report of her movements and who she meets." He paused for a moment to let that sink in, and then menacingly told Vin. "Mr. Smith is a very good colleague of mine. I would be very upset if you tried any tricks. Got it?" Vin nodded quickly the nervous perspiration glistening on his brow.

"Yes. Mr. Weston. Who will I be following, and where?" Now that was a good question and I answered. Vin had to know who it was and that would reveal my identity.

"It's my wife. Her name is Lily Martin." I wrote down my address for him. "I want her followed for at least two weeks to her work in Chelmsford and anywhere she goes from there. I want details of who she meets outside of her work and home. If you can get photos so much the better. She usually leaves home at eight fifteen and she drives a silver VW 'Golf''" I took back the piece of paper and wrote down the registration number. He looked at the address.

"Where is this place, Abbess Roding?" Great start I thought.

"It's about six miles north of Chipping Ongar." His face cleared. He knew where Chipping Ongar was.


Calculating Nemesis



"Ok. Mr. Martin. I'll be there tomorrow." Then he put me in a more assured mood. "Is this Abbess Roding a small place? If it is I shall stick out like a sore thumb." That was a good point. 

"Yes you will. One car an hour is busy for Abbess." I thought for a moment. "Tell you what, she uses country lanes at first but she turns on to the A 1060 just south of Margaret Roding. That's a busy road so you will be able to follow her from there without being noticed."

"Leave it to me. Mr. Martin. Where can I contact you?." 

"Phone me at my office." I gave him my card. He slipped my card into his wallet and stood.

"I'll call you in a few days just to give you a progress report."

When Frank and I were alone he ordered more coffee.

"I can't understand you, Jes. You are the most sorted guy I have ever known. Even now you are calm and thinking things through. Don't you ever get angry?"

"Yes Frank I do. In fact I am bloody angry now. But anger isn't the way to handle anything. You need to think things through before doing anything that could rebound on you."

"And you are going to wait, what will it be, two weeks? Three? or more. Vin will want an earner out of this, say a monkey a week plus car expenses. What if he comes up with nothing?"

"Then I shall be relieved that she isn't playing around. But my gut instinct tells me she is."



CHAPTER TWO

I went on as usual. I was well aware of how people saw me, a quiet inoffensive little man, wearing a charcoal-grey pin-stripe suite, carrying a briefcase, in fact I encouraged the image. There are hundreds like me going to work every day. We work at our desk surrounded by paperwork, dry as dust, dependable and boring and most importantly, unremarkable. I liked to be unremarkable. Yet many of those men had a secret. For some it was a small secret, like reading porn magazines in their lunch hour before going home to their loving wife who could never be as exciting as that girl on the page. For others it was gambling or drinking, the need to place a bet on a sure thing or the surreptitious glass in the local pub before taking the bus or train home. 

I had my secrets. The first was my connection with the criminal class; not even Lily knew about that. The second was that I was having Lily; the woman I worshipped, followed. My dry, logical, mechanical brain had acknowledged the possible problem and had come up with the means to gather more knowledge. What if more knowledge meant the end of my marriage? My brain gave me the answer, my heart wouldn't listen. Lily had a special place in my life. Not just because she was good to look at. She had that ability to make my life fun. My work as many could imagine had no place for merriment. It was painstaking attention to detail and the rules of accountancy. When I got home, Lily lifted me out of that husk. She was full of' Joi de vie', so much that she had enough for it to spill over onto me and make my home life a time of laughter, happiness and pleasure. If she was cheating that life would end and my heartbreak and pain would be inconsolable.

Vin phoned me on the next Monday.

"I have something for you Mr. Martin. I can tell you over the phone or do you want to meet?" I wanted to prepare myself for this so asked him to meet me at the 'Starlight'. Even if Frank wasn't there the staff knew me well enough to allow me some privacy. 

"I'll see you at the 'Starlight' at two thirty."

Vin apologised to me.

"I'm sorry Mr. Martin, but I am certain that your wife is up to something." He referred to his notes. "I followed her to work every day. Tuesday through to Thursday She worked all day only coming out to get a sandwich from the supermarket just down the road. Friday she left at eleven-thirty in her car. She had a passenger. I followed her to Marks Tey, where they went to a hotel for lunch. They came out at two and drove back to work. I went back to the hotel and asked some questions. They go usually once a week for lunch, just as I observed Friday. They have lunched regularly for about five weeks. I did learn that he had booked a room for one visit and he spent a couple of hours in the room. But my informant could not say for certain that your wife was with him that day. But it seems likely."

Vin had seemed loathe to tell me that, and I was just as unhappy to hear it. Oh God Lily. What have you done to us? I pulled myself together.

"How did you get this information?"

"I had worked in a hotel once. You don't ask reception, you corner one of the porters. They know everything that happens and quite happy to talk once a few notes get offered."

"Would they know who books in?"

"Yes. The porter's room has a computer logged onto the bookings page, so that they know where to take the cases when a guest arrives."

"Who is the man she is lunching with?"

"His name is Bennington. W.A. Bennington." I knew the name, he was the Managing Director of the company Lily worked for. I sat silently, trying to come to terms with this. Vin had proved nothing except my wife had lunch with her boss at least once a week. Inadvisable for her but not actually infidelity. If she had told me it would be acceptable, but she hadn't thus making it a secret. She may or may not have spent two hours with him in a hotel room. You shouldn't accuse when you can't prove. I needed more.

"Vin will you carry on with the observation?"

"Yes, Mr. Martin. There is something. Bennington has booked a private dining room for next Friday. It will be him and three guests. I could get access to the room before, and a mate of mine could fix up some digital cameras. That is if you think it would help." I looked at him.

"Won't they be seen?" He shook his head.

"No. Mr. Martin. They are so small he can put them into air-conditioning vents and smoke alarms."

"Do they take photos or video?"

"Video. He will need to be quite close, loading the images onto a computer. The signal doesn't travel that far but he can get screen grabs anytime you want."

"How much will this cost?" He thought for a moment, possibly wondering how much he could con out of me.

"A hundred for the Porter and say five hundred for my mate." I nodded.

"Do it." I got my wallet from my inside pocket. "Here's two thou, let's call it wages for the week and expenses. That should cover your mate and the Porter." I put the money down on the table. He didn't pick it up.

"Mr. Martin. I'll take the money for expenses, but you don't owe me anything for wages. This is a favour for Mr. Weston." I looked up in surprise.

"Vin. I know how Mr. Weston assumes that people will do him a favour. Your favour is benefitting me and when someone does a good job for me, I believe that should be recognised, Take the money." I didn't have to tell him twice. The money was scooped up quickly.

"Thank you Mr. Martin."

We left the 'Starlight' together. He turned left and I hailed a cab. The club was very near to Canary Wharf and Black Cab's abounded in the area now. Not so a few years ago when they would be as rare as Hen's teeth. No one living in Docklands at that time could afford a cab fare. But the influx of so many financial service types with cash burning holes in their pockets had changed all that. The cab took me back to Old Street and my office. I sat at my desk and stared into nothing. Nothing is what my life promised to be from now on. In that future, like an automaton I would take the train in the morning, my fellow passengers knowing nothing, nor caring of the bitter pain that I carried with me every day. I would come to this office and place figures in the right columns and even then the pain would keep me reminded of what I had lost. Then in the evening I would return to an empty home. No, not a home, a house, a dull listless place empty of her laughter, her presence, her voice, even the lingering perfume she would leave in any room she entered. That would be my life. It didn't matter that my logical brain told me that I had no proof. My emotions told me otherwise. She had allowed another man to view, taste and possess her. Giving to him that which she had once promised only I would have. Lily! Oh Lily. Why? Why?

When I arrived home that evening I was feeling sick. I had wondered how I could refrain from making love with Lily, as she would expect for the next few days. In making love we revealed all of ourselves, hopes dreams and bare emotions. I could not act sufficiently well to fool her, she would know something was amiss. I didn't have to act ill, the closer I got to home the more the knot in my stomach tightened until I was actually ill not faking. Lily was full of concern.

"Have you eaten something that has upset you?" I shook my head.

"I don't think so. Well... I had a Kebab at lunchtime." She looked at me in astonishment.

"A Kebab? Oh Chad you of all people should know that re-heated meat is certain to make you ill. What made you do that?"

Chad. Now there's another name. My given name is Charles, a name rarely used when I was younger. Lily didn't like the name, she said it reminded her of upper-class, toffee-nosed twits. The Yanks would of course change Charles to Chuck, but in the U.K. Chuck was a slang word for vomiting so that was out. From very early on in our relationship she had called me Chad.

"I just fancied a Kebab for lunch. It seemed like a good idea at the time." I tried to joke. It didn't work for either of us.

"Come on. Let's get you to bed. If you're still bad in the morning, I'll get the doctor to call in." I would be still bad in the morning, and probably every morning for some time to come. It was a sickness I would learn to live with. The Lily that was so solicitous of my condition was at odds to the picture I had in my mind of a cheating adulterous wife. An imbalance that I found difficult to equate. She fussed around me like a mother hen. Keeping me supplied with liquids and making sure that the bowl was close at hand should I be sick. I did retch a time or two and she was there, her cool hand on my brow supporting my head as I heaved, the other hand stroking my back. Her loving actions added to the dichotomy rather than resolving it. I could put an end to this, but with what could I challenge her? That she had lunch with her Boss? 

I could not be certain that she was one of the party next Friday. Perhaps I could pretend illness next Friday. Would she go or would she stay home to minister to me? Possibly she would have stayed home, but that would only put off the inevitable if there was an inevitable. Fidelity cannot be demanded as a right, it is a gift, given freely and unconditionally from one partner to the other. I gave my fidelity to Lily, happily with the love I bore her foremost in my mind and heart. My sad thoughts were that she had already compromised her commitment even if she had not given him her body, by seeing him socially without telling me. The mind becomes unfaithful before the body.

The next few days were a blank. I know I went to work and presumably made the right decisions. If I hadn't then some of my clients may be paying far more in tax than they expected. Into the vacuum my treacherous mind sent pictures; horrible pictures of Lily laying naked under another man, spreading her legs to offer him her vagina, happily accepting him into her body and screaming her delight as he pumped his essence into her eager womb. Those revolting scenes gave me an insight into the mind of men who had killed their errant wives. I put aside those thoughts as an image came to mind of Lily lifeless and cold laid on the bare earth chilled me to the core. As much as I hated her for her deception, I loved her. How could those two emotions co-exist?

I didn't go to work at the normal time on that fateful Friday. I wanted to see what Lily would wear to work. She seemed uncomfortable with my being there long after my usual departure time. That alerted me.

"Do you still feel unwell, Chad?"

"No. Lily, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"Well you are usually out of the house at seven-thirty."

"Oh. Sorry I didn't tell you that I wouldn't be going in at the normal time. I have an appointment in Leyton at ten. It seemed silly to go into the office for ten minutes then come all the way back out again." Lily accepted the explanation. However when she did come downstairs she wore a belted Burberry. I looked askance at the coat.

"I think it might rain today." She explained. Was there guilt on her face? Possibly I thought. She kissed me and left the house. 

I went upstairs and looked through her wardrobe. I am probably as unobservant as the next man. So Lily's selection of clothes was a mystery to me. I did notice dresses that I could not remember seeing before and wondered if her secret admirer had shown his appreciation again. Whatever I did find the dress I had noticed when my suspicions were aroused, but not the suit. Therefore I was fairly sure that she was wearing that today. I had seen her wearing that to work at least once before so why hide the suit now? I thought that was the reason why she had worn the Burberry. I left the house shortly after and went to work.

Close to half past four my phone rang. As usual I didn't give my name when I answered, just saying 'hello' and then waited for the caller to ask for either Mr. Smith or Mr. Martin, thus telling me what sort of call this would be.

"Mr. Martin?"

"Yes, speaking."

"It's Vin. Mr. Martin." My heart thumped wildly. Was this going to be good or bad?

"What have you got for me?" I hated to say those words. I could hear the sympathy in his voice when he replied by saying 'I'm sorry Mr. Martin' the pain in my stomach returned two fold. "I see." I was silent, knowing that my marriage was over.

"Mr. Martin?"

"I'm here, Vin. Can you come to my office on Monday?"

"Yes. What time?"

"Make it about eleven."

"I'll be there."

That Saturday and Sunday was fraught with tension. Lily seemed to be in a most loving mood, yet I could not respond. If she was hurt by my lack of reaction to her offered ardour she didn't show it, probably putting it down to the stomach bug of the previous week. We did all the usual things for the weekend. Some shopping on the Saturday and later I did some tidying up in the little plot that was our garden. The house was a traditional Essex weatherboard building that I had bought before our marriage. I took some time inspecting the weatherboarding, as usual after the winter there were places where some treatment and painting would be needed. I took my time over this little job, it kept me away from Lily's questioning eyes. With relief I returned to work on Monday even though I was apprehensive of what awaited me there.

The buzzer sounded just before eleven. Both the top door and the street door were released by electronic catches controlled from my desk. Vin announced himself and I released the street door and listened to his steps up the stairs. As he neared the top I pressed the other release and he came into the lobby. I opened the door to my office.

"Come in Vin. Can I get you a cup of tea or coffee?"

"No thank you Mr. Martin." I indicated a chair beside my desk and he sat. My desk was dominated by a huge computer monitor. He looked at it and shook his head.

"That is some piece of kit."

"You need it when you are doing spreadsheets with accounts." I told him. We were both skipping around avoiding the purpose of his coming here. 

I took a breath and let it out slowly. "Ok. What have you got for me?" He had with him a small sports bag which he opened. He produced a stiff padded envelope and handed it over to me. Inside were numerous photos and a DVD in a case.

"Mr. Martin. I would suggest that you don't watch the DVD. For a start it goes on for two and a half hours and you will be very upset at what it shows. Mr. Bennington and your wife met two other gentlemen at the hotel. They all went upstairs to the private dining room and the DVD shows them having lunch. The other gentlemen are a Mr. Haskins and a Mr. Wellow. It would appear that they are in a position to award Mr. Bennington's company a very large contract. I have their car registration numbers if you wish to go further with this. After Lunch the staff cleared away the dishes and left them alone. Bennington seemed to lock the door and poured more drinks for them all. They chatted for a while then after about fifteen minutes your wife climbed onto the table and began to strip." He stopped there and I could see he was embarrassed. He picked up again. "She got completely naked." He stopped again. "I'm sorry Mr. Martin but I don't want to tell you what happened, there are pictures and you should look at them in private. Then you will know what went on. I am so sorry." 

As he spoke a ball of ice was starting to form in my chest, it got heavier and colder, growing in size until it seemed that I couldn't breathe properly and freezing my heart. There were few words that could describe how bereft I was. I had lost someone I loved and I was there watching her being lowered into the ground. The difference was that the deceased would not come back and haunt you reminding you of the pain. The sorrow was balanced by my anger. I was angry at Lily, but I fostered a bitter, unquenchable anger at Bennington and the two other men. Bennington knew she was married yet he used her like a whore uncaring about her husband. I would deal with Lily first and then with Bennington and the two others. I cleared my throat.

"Vin, is it possible with those registration numbers to find out where they live, whether they are married or not?"

"That could be done Mr. Martin. There's always a copper or two who likes to earn a bit of cash."

"How much do you think?"

"Couple of hundred should do it." I nodded as he went on.

"Mr. Martin, you are a decent guy. I am not skimming you on this. I'll get the information and you can settle with me when I've got it." We talked a little more before he left. However the last thing he said to me was. "Don't do anything silly, Mr. Martin." I told him that I wouldn't.

I skipped through the DVD. I had never been a fan of pornography, and certainly a film starring my wife would do little for me. I skipped over much of the play, especially the part when Lily stepped up to the table using a chair and flirtatiously removed her clothes. I just needed the salient parts and to hear the comments. That was quite interesting and fuelled my anger against the three men. I couldn't watch when she allowed them total access to her body, I would have been physically sick. The sound came and went depending on where they stood. The men were talking after enjoying my wife. Lily had gone to a bathroom to clean up I supposed. 

The one I identified as Wellow said to Bennington.

"Where did you get her?" He grinned at them.

"Good, isn't she?" Bennington remarked loftily. Haskins agreed.

"She makes my wife look like a bloody statue." He looked at Bennington. "Is there any chance of a repeat? I would be happy to pay for the room."

"I would think so. Let me know when you want to come back." 

"She's married, isn't she?" Wellow queried. Bennington grinned.

"Yes. I believe her husband is a little runt. She says he's an accountant, but it's more likely he's just a book keeper. Probably has such a tiny dick that she's never felt it." They all laughed together. I stopped the DVD at that point.

Well I thought we shall see who laughs last. But first I had to confront Lily.



CHAPTER THREE

I left the office shortly after Vin had gone. Lily would usually get home about five thirty, at least an hour before I got back from work. Normally she would have started cooking and that would be too domestic a situation for the conversation we were going to have. It was the middle of the afternoon when I opened the front door, plenty of time for me to arrange things. I had left my car in the pub car park, somehow thinking that if Lily didn't know I was home she would be surprised and it would unsettle her. Stupid thought really, she couldn't deny anything; it was all on the DVD. I slotted the disc into the player and pressed pause at the point where they entered the room and sat down. The photos, Vin called them screen grabs, I sorted. I wouldn't need all of them. I picked out the one where Lily was standing on the table naked, then another which showed Bennington holding her legs wide as he pushed into her, then the last photo, which was of her lying face down on top of Haskins with his cock locked into her pussy, Welling was standing to one side and Lily had turned her head taking his cock in her mouth, whilst Bennington from his position could have been sodomizing her. I put them in a spare folder I had brought home with me. There would be no need for any more although Vin's friend had provided plenty. I made myself a cup of tea and sat down to wait.




Calculating Nemesis



Lily came in at five twenty-five. She went straight to the kitchen to put the kettle on, and then came into the back room we called the lounge and stopped short as she saw me.

"Chad! You startled me. You're home early, has something happened? Are you not feeling well?" I raised my hand.

"Something has happened and no, I am not feeling well."

"In that case, darling. I am going to call the doctor. This had been going on for too long."

"Yes it has, but the doctor won't be able to cure this. Sit down Lily." She looked at me curiously and sat in the arm chair. I flicked the 'play' button on the remote and the screen lightened and suddenly they were there. I heard a gasp. I let the DVD play for a while. I could hear Lily hyperventilating. I turned to her.

"Interesting this DVD." She was trying to catch her breath moaning. "No, for God's sake no!" Her hands came up and covered her face and I heard wretched sobbing coming from between her cupped hands. I stopped the DVD and waited for her to recover. It took a while as every time her crying lessened she would lift her face toward me and seeing the stony expression on my face, the tears and sobs would start again. Eventually she could cry no more. She couldn't look me n the eye, her face was blotched and red with tears drying on her cheeks.

"How?" She cleared her throat and tried again. "How d..." I interrupted her.

"It doesn't matter how, it only that matters that I know. That DVD is two and a half hours long, so you understand what it shows. All of it!" I shouted. "Everything!" She burst into tears again.

To give her time to recover I went and made two coffees. I thought that caffeine was needed for this conversation. I carried them into the lounge and brought a warm damp flannel for Lily to wipe her face. She smiled weakly to signify her thanks. She took a sip of coffee.

"I am so sorry, Chad." I nodded.

"Of course you are. Would you be sorry though if I had not found out?" She didn't reply to that question. I didn't expect a response.

"What are you going to do now, Chad?"

"I am not doing anything. You are."

"What do you mean?"

"You are going upstairs and packing your bags. Tomorrow you leave this house, and you will never come back."

"Oh Chad, do I have to? I love you so much." I flicked open the folder and selected the photo where she was accommodating all three men. I put it in front of her.

"Is this how you love me so much?" I shouted. A fresh bout of sobbing ensued. I left her alone for a while. I needed to get myself under control as well. The anger was burning inside of me, but I couldn't give it free rein; I was sure that I would do her harm if that happened.

When I returned she had regained composure.

"Are you going to divorce me?" She asked fearfully.

"No, Lily. I am not." She looked up a spark of hope in her eyes that were dashed when I continued. "If you decide that you like the sort of life that Bennington gives you, then you will have to divorce me. I'll use those pictures to defend the action and the likely outcome is that you get nothing. It will probably mean that Bennington will be divorced as well. I would imagine that his wife will leave him destitute, so I doubt that you will have a good life with him unless he pimps you out. You seem to be good at that." Lily blanched as I compared her to a prostitute, but didn't argue. I knew that the DVD and photos would not be admissible in Court as they were obtained illegally. Lily didn't know that.

"I wouldn't be with him. I don't really like him that much." The question in my mind was if that were the case why give him her body. I didn't ask, it would invite her to explain and I couldn't face the humiliation of having her tell me that I was insufficient for her.

"Why are you not going to divorce me?"

"There is little point. I am not going to get married again; you seem to have put me off the wedded state. A divorce would cost me; I have worked too hard to put all this in jeopardy. You go. If you have any pride in yourself you will find another job and try to put what you have done behind you. However, I will make you an allowance. You need to open your own back account as from tomorrow your cards will not work. I will put some money into your account every month. Oh, and you can keep the car." Lily was bemused.

"Why would you do that?"

"Lily. I have loved you, and even now I still love you, but what you have done has hurt me so much. You were concerned that I was ill lately. It wasn't a stomach bug; it was learning what you had been up to that caused that. I cannot live with you any more, every time I saw you it would remind me of what you have done and you would suffer my anger. I gave you my heart when we married and I can't take it back. Even so my love for you will not let me see you in hardship."

"Darling. We can work together and find a way of overcoming this." Lily tried again.

"Oh yes." I replied sarcastically." It's not 'we' who have to overcome this, Lily. It's me! I watched you with those men and it made me physically sick. My wife, the woman I love allowing other men into her body, and looking happy about it. Those bloody pictures are burnt onto my memory. The only way that will allow me to overcome this is total amnesia!" 

Lily moped around upstairs slowly packing clothes. Every time I had to go upstairs she looked at me plaintively, asking with her eyes if I would change my mind. I couldn't. The pictures in my mind taunted me, hardening my heart. She phoned someone called Daphne during the evening and I suspected arranged somewhere to stay for a while.

I heard her coming down the stairs accompanied by heavy thumps which I imagined was caused by the well filled suitcase being too heavy for her. A week ago I would have rushed to help, this evening I wouldn't nor ever again. She came into the lounge.

"I am leaving now. One of my friends at work is letting me squat with her for a few days. I shall quit my job without notice tomorrow." She waited in hope possibly that I would tell her to stay. I dashed those hopes.

"It's a pity you didn't put your notice in a few months ago." I said angrily.

"Chad. I am so sorry, so very sorry. Please remember I do love you." I made no reply. She opened the front door and I heard her sobbing again as she dragged the suitcase out. The door slammed shut.

I spent the rest of the evening in total misery, going to bed much later than usually. The bed linen retained her fragrance and my tears could not be stopped. If there was any comfort in this it was that Lily didn't say that stupid thing 'it meant nothing, it was only sex', or 'it's not what you think'. How could any cheater come out with lines like that? When the evidence was there on the TV screen. I knew I had done the right thing, but Christ! It hurt. Lily's had hurt me and I had hurt me. When would it stop? 

Routine and attention to detail had been the stuff of my life. Yet in the space of a week I had been late to the office twice. My Punjabi newsagent was so unnerved by this that he had to come out and question me when I arrived at my office the next day.

"Mr. Martin, Sahib. It is so very unusual for yourself to be late. Now I am noticing that twice in the last week this has happened. I am feeling that my timepiece is not working properly."

"Mr. Shandali. Your watch is perfectly in order. I have had appointments close to my home which I concluded first. Do not worry, the world hasn't changed that much."

"I am very pleased to hear that, Mr. Martin. Now I see you haven't got your newspaper this morning. Please allow me." He rushed into his shop and returned immediately with a copy of my usual Financial Times. He presented it to me as if it was a priceless gift. I reached into my pocket for the money.

"No, no Mr. Martin. No money please. It is my pleasure." I trudged up the stairs with my faith in human nature restored just a little.

Later that day, Vin phoned me.

"I just wanted to know, Mr. Martin if you are alright."

"Thanks Vin. My self-esteem is bruised badly, but I shall survive."

"And Mrs. Martin?"

"Gone."

"I'm sorry about that, but I suppose you had no choice." I agreed with him. He went on. "I shall have the details for those two men shortly. My friendly copper says that if the cars are registered to a company, would you like him to take it further?"

"What does he mean?"

"Oh it's simple. He phones the company sort of officially and as he is a copper they will tell him who those cars are allocated to and their home addresses."

"Vin. You know some very disreputable coppers." He laughed.

"Only one or two Mr. Martin. Just one or two."

With no reason to go home at the usual time I decided to work on. No doubt alarming Mr. Shandali again. This was not work for my clients, this was research for me. It can be surprising to many people how much information could be obtained about a business concern. I was going to research Mr. Bennington and the company for which he was Managing Director, Elwin Dax & Co.



CHAPTER FOUR

I had two computers in my office. The main one on which I worked my magic with accounts had never been connected to the internet. The wireless receiver had even been removed. I knew enough from Frank and the others how easy it was to hack into a computer. I had a second machine to access the internet. The Companies House web site gave me a lot of information, including the last year's accounts. These are abbreviated accounts but quite useful if you knew how to read them. After a general overview I looked at the contingency fund. Any well run company would have such a fund. It was in essence the company's private piggy bank. In good years you would place a surplus in the contingency. As this reduced net profit and was not declared for dividends it wouldn't come into the tax calculation. In bad years you would use the contingency to cover the lower or non-existent profit and still allow the company to declare a dividend. The other reason for it was the sudden and unforeseen need for quick capital. Many accountants would tell you that the contingency fund was an indicator of the company's health. 

Although Elwin Dax & Co. had declared a modest profit year on year, the contingency fund was negligible. Interesting I thought. Either the contingency had been used to bolster profits and was now almost empty, or it had never been healthy at all. I then pulled up the Dunn and Bradstreet site. You have to be registered to enter and Accountants are always registered with D. & B. They word their reports very carefully pointing out that their summary is based on available data and should not be taken as evidence as to the financial health of the company. Accountants can read between the lines and their report on Elwin Dax & Co. was not encouraging. Further investigation was required, but for that I would have to go to Companies House. What I was looking for was not available on the internet.

I went straight to Companies House the next day, returning to my office late morning. For the first time in the last few weeks I was happy. I had determined to bring Bennington down and I was delighted that he was helping me in that endeavour. I suppose you could say that once a Shit always a Shit, and Bennington was indeed a Shit. I had got some interesting facts, and although they didn't show false accounting, they indicated that perhaps that was happening. I left a message for Vin. I had another job for him.

He called that afternoon.

"Is there something I could help you with, Mr. Martin?"

"Yes. Vin. Would you go up to Chelmsford and watch the Company where my wife worked."

"What am I looking for?"

"I want you to note down the registration numbers of their goods vehicles. I doubt that you can get them all as they have about twenty five and they go all over the country. But if you could get a good proportion of them, that should suffice."

"Yes I can do that. Two or three days should do it."

"That's what I thought."

"Do you want to find out who they are registered to?" I was impressed. Vin wasn't stupid.

"You're ahead of me. Yes, I do."

"Leave it with me Mr. Martin. I'll get back to you in three or four days."

My suspicions had been alerted by the depreciation of the fleet. The claims were in line with the guidelines issued by H.M. Customs and Revenue, but there was no mention of capital expenditure on those vehicles in the capital account, then there was posted an almost similar amount for servicing every year. Now these trucks cost a lot of money and as they age their servicing costs go up. The indication was that no new trucks had been purchased and they had an aging fleet. But the servicing costs remained unaltered. I smelt a rat and that rat's name was Bennington.

My days returned to normal, relatively speaking. Back in Abbess Roding my nights were my personal slough of despond. We had always had a cleaning lady who came in twice a week, so even after a few days Lily's perfume was no longer hanging in the air. Yet still there was so much to remind me of her. I would walk into a room and see a picture on the wall. One she had chosen with me and my eyes would moisten. The linen on my bed, washed, dried and pressed, was a pattern that Lily had admired and bought. I would look at them and see us together, nakedly embracing, loving each other, joined together in that most intimate of moments that lovers share. Yet again I would succumb to anger, cursing her and Bennington for ruining something that was almost perfect. Then I would feel guilty for cursing Lily. I loved her, and that was a burden I would suffer for the rest of my life.

Vin came up with the goods. A list of vehicle numbers. He had eighteen of them, and the best thing of all? They were all registered to a Leasing Company. Bennington and his crooked company secretary, who had to be in on this, was claiming depreciation and servicing on vehicles the company didn't own. What else were they up to? I was sure they had other scams going but I didn't really have the time to go looking. This scam was false accounting and deserved a gaol sentence. Therein lay a problem. I could report this to the Inland Revenue, but the less I had to do with those worthies the better. They are a suspicious lot and they would wonder why I was looking into a company to which I had no connection. Would they in their turn take a look at me? My accounts were good, but there was always the possibility that they could get lucky. Vin added some unasked for information.

"Your wife is no longer working there, Mr. Martin." Did that please me? I wondered.

I needed documentary proof that the vehicles were owned by the leasing company. I wrote to them posing as an outside auditor saying that the copy of the agreement sent to me had been inadvertently shredded by one of my staff and I felt too embarrassed to ask Elwin Dax for another copy. Two weeks later I had the copy, listing all the vehicles that were covered by the agreement. I had researched the company. There are many internet sites where you could get information, I had to access quite a few before I put together the picture. Founded in eighteen ninety-seven to ship milled grain from rural Essex to the bakeries in London it had led a profitable but unspectacular existence. Just after the First World War it had taken advantage of the huge numbers of ex-army goods vehicles being sold off cheaply to expand into general parcel traffic. The grain business had withered over the years and today their operation was as general hauliers and warehousing. It had never changed its corporate status, and today the shareholders were comprised mainly of descendents of Elwin Dax.

Whereas once the shares were held in entirety by three people, the children of the founder, today they had devolved to some twenty two descendents, all owning less than ten percent of the shares, apart from two who together held just over thirty percent. Those two were also listed as Directors. A plan was coming to my mind. I wondered how much acumen those two Directors could boast. One was Lieutenant-General (retd.) A.R. Stanley and the other was a Mrs. T.B. Dax. The other directors were Bennington himself and a J.M. Chambers who was Company Secretary. Did the General and Mrs. Dax understand that as Directors they were legally responsible for the accuracy of the Company Accounts as submitted to the Inland Revenue and Companies House? I doubted that. Did they also understand that as an asset that bolstered the profitability wasn't an asset, the Company could be said to be trading while insolvent. A criminal offence.

Now what was I going to do with my knowledge? I would talk to Frank as I thought there was an opportunity for his getting an enterprise that could be profitable for very little outlay. He was dubious at first.

"Jes. All this mucking about just to get revenge on this bloke. I can send a couple of blokes up to give him a good smacking. That's simple and to the point."

"True, Frank. But unless they are going to snuff him, he will recover and he will still be sitting pretty with his lifestyle and position intact. Of course there is the little matter of that being G.B.H., just a tad illegal." I reminded him. "My way is going to ruin him financially for the rest of his life. He could get some stir as well. And what I am doing is legal!" Frank sighed.

"Ok. Jes. I'll go along with you, but what is it going to cost?"

"All I need is your name. I'll fund it, but I don't want my name on the documents, that could alert Bennington. At the end of this you could have a good going concern giving you nice profits."

"Damn you Jes. You are going to get me going straight, I can see it now. Frank Weston, pillar of the community. My Dad would turn in his grave."

I had the same conversation with Jack Hallam, another of my clients who followed a similar lifestyle to Frank Weston. Frank knew I would approach Jack and had no trouble with it, neither did Jack. He heard the story and offered the same service that Frank had offered. Again I persuaded him that my way was better.

"I wouldn't do it for anyone but you, Jes. You have always dealt straight with me and your advice has been sound. Count me in." The reason that I wanted another name was so that I didn't buy so many shares in one name that would alert the major shareholders.

The Shareholders Register gave me their addresses and I wrote to all the smaller shareholders, saying that my principle was interested in purchasing their shares, and offering a price that would make their eyes sparkle. I wasn't surprised at their eagerness to bite. They had always got dividends but not as much as they would wish. The vision of a few thousand pounds for shares that they had considered mediocre was too good an opportunity. They didn't all bite, but sufficient did to get me clout at the next shareholders meeting. I would be the proxy for Frank and Jack.

The shareholder meeting was to be held in March some months away, primarily to agree the accounts and set the dividend. I gathered from those shareholders who had agreed to sell that few bothered to attend the meeting. Having inherited their shares rather than being serious investors they had little interest in the proceedings. So I was not surprised when at the appointed time I joined the meeting noticing that the attendance was limited to Mrs. Dax, Lieutenant General Stanley, Bennington, Chambers and I. Eyebrows were raised as I entered the boardroom and I was asked my business. I produced the written proxies that Frank and Jack had written for me. It was Chambers who checked those and then said.

"Welcome to the meeting, Mr. Martin." Suddenly Bennington looked as if he had swallowed a live Frog. I could see it going through his mind, was I the Martin he had cuckolded?

Stanley brought the meeting to order. The accounts were distributed for perusal. Mrs. Dax and the General didn't really bother to read them, proof of my assumption that they did not have a business background. I studied them acutely. That wasn't the usual practice here and both Chambers and Bennington fidgeted uncomfortably.




Calculating Nemesis



"Is there something you don't understand, Mr. Martin?" Asked Chambers.

"No, nothing at all. Why? Am I holding you up?"

"No, not at all. If there is something you have a problem with, perhaps I can explain." Chambers returned.

"Oh. I am sorry." I smiled. I was going to enjoy the next bit. I brought out my card and slipped it over to him. "As you can see I am qualified, as you are. Accountants always check, don't we?" Chambers wasn't happy; he pushed my card over to Bennington. He looked as if the frog had climbed all the way back up again.

Stanley had got his pen out in preparation for signing. I looked over to him.

"Lieutenant General. I wouldn't sign those if I were you. You would be committing an offence."

"What? What do you mean, Sir?"

"I'm sorry to have to tell you that these accounts are inaccurate, not to say false." The General looked fiercely at me.

"Mr. Martin. You had better be prepared to back up that accusation." 

"We are wasting time." Bennington said loudly. "There are other things to discuss. I ignored him and answered the General.

"Of course, Sir. Would you be so kind as to find the item referring to maintenance and depreciation on the vehicle fleet?" He found the item.

"Yes. Looks perfectly straightforward to me."

"It would General, if the company actually owned the vehicles." 

"Of course we do. Owned the fleet for years." I shook my head.

"No Sir." I opened the folder and pulled out the copy of the leasing agreement, sliding it across the table to him.

"Would you care to look at that agreement?" Then I brought out the list of vehicles covered by the agreement. I slid that over to him. "That is the list of vehicles. I believe you will find it comprehensive."

He read the agreement and then the list, passing them over to Mrs. Dax for her to see. The signatures on the agreement for the Company were Bennington and Chambers. Those two gentlemen seemed to be sitting on hot bricks, their faces flushed hotly. The General had seen enough.

"Bennington! I think you have some explaining to do. We'll go into your office and you can tell me what is going on." I didn't want that. The General probably didn't know enough about accounting and Bennington would use quality wool to pull over his eyes.

"General!" I caught his attention. "This has been going on for years. An explanation for this year's accounts is insufficient. Without this asset, the Company could be said to be trading while insolvent, and that is a criminal offence. I would advise that the Company cease trading immediately and have a full independent audit carried out."

"That's not necessary." Shouted Bennington. He and Chambers were looking decidedly unhappy.

"Be quiet, man!" The General used a voice more suited to the parade ground. He was thinking. He turned and had a whispered conversation with Mrs. Dax. She nodded and looked at me.

"Mr. Martin. Am I and the General in danger of prosecution?" I nodded.

"Yes, I think you could be."

"Then I think the General and I would vote to take your proposal, I second your motion." Chambers had to note the motion in the minutes then asked. 

"All those in favour?" The General's and Mrs. Dax's hands went up, as did mine. They had over thirty percent of the shares between them; I had proxy votes for twenty-two percent. It was no contest. 

I was leaving after the meeting when by chance I bumped into Bennington. He looked daggers at me.

"Bastard!" I nodded.

"It takes one to know one." I replied. "Don't mess with little runt book keepers with little dicks. Some of us have clout." Now he could have no doubt as to whom I was. I felt quite certain that the audit would throw up other questions for Bennington to answer. What's it like to be looking from the precipice and knowing that you had no way of avoiding the fall?



CHAPTER FIVE



Four weeks later the independent auditors had finished. As a shareholder Frank received a copy of the report and brought it round to me.

"I can't understand head or tail of it. What does it tell us?" I read through it quickly, noticing as I did his looking around with distaste.

"Why the hell don't you get somewhere better?" He asked. "This place is a shit hole." I ignored that for a moment. The report bore out all the thoughts I had. Bennington was up to so many scams, basically ripping off his shareholders and the Inland Revenue with false accounting. The auditors had notified the Revenue and they were starting up their grinder. They moved slowly but very, very thoroughly, missing nothing; which would eventually spit Bennington and Chambers out in little pieces. The police were already involved. 

Bennington had sentenced me to a whole world of pain and now he was going to experience the feeling. I explained the report and told Frank what it meant for Bennington. He winced.

"I am sure he will be going to a place where he will make the acquaintance of some of your acquaintances." He laughed. Then I went on to answer his other question.

"Frank I stay here because it suits. If I moved to more salubrious premises, people would notice. The tax man may get curious and the last thing I or you for that matter, want is the tax man getting curious. So I stay here, they think I am just a plodding accountant, not bursting with bright ideas to avoid taxes so they leave me alone. That suits me." He grinned.

"I thought you would say that. Now what do we do with this company you have just ruined?"

"It's not ruined. It's viable. I would imagine that the shareholders will be happy to sell their shares for a nominal figure and if you or Jack would like to take control it won't cost you too much. You get a profitable concern, running wagons all over the country, and possibly abroad." I threw that in to see if he would take notice. He did.

"Ah! That could be interesting." Frank left thinking deeply.

I decided it was time to add to Bennington's agony. Vin collected from me envelopes containing copies of the DVD and the screen grabs. These he delivered by hand to Bennington's, Haskins', and Wellow's homes. Just slipping them through the letter boxes. The solicitors would be very grateful for the business I was providing for them. 

The General phoned me a few weeks later.

"Mr. Martin. My cousin, Mrs. Dax and I would like to thank you for your assistance. It looks like we will have to pay a fine to the tax man, but that shouldn't be too much. They seem to be saving most of their ire for Bennington and Chambers. Could you advise us further about what we should do with the Company? To be honest neither of us is too interested in maintaining our connection."

"General Stanley, I think that possibly my principles; Mr. Weston and Mr. Hallam could be persuaded to take it on. But with the bad publicity it would need subsidising for a while to get it back up and running."

"Understood. If you would talk to them for us, see what they say. The shares are not worth more than a pittance now so we will accept any reasonable offer."

Vin was proving very useful. The man seemed to keep his ear to the ground and a couple of months had gone by when he called at the office. This time he did accept a cup of coffee. He handed me a couple of newspapers. One was the Chelmsford Weekly News, The front page reported the problems at the old established local company Elwin Dax Ltd. and the Inland Revenue investigation. Then ringed on another page was an item describing how Mrs. Ida Bennington was divorcing her husband Walter. Mention was made of some photos showing him in an intimate embrace with a young woman. The other paper was the Southend Standard. This story covered the abrupt departure from a local manufacturing company of two executives. A Mr. K.B Haskins and a Mr. M Wellow. Both dismissed for bringing the company into disrepute and activities unbecoming for their status. It also mentioned that they were both recently estranged from their wives. I thanked Vin for his thoughtfulness.

So I had my revenge and suddenly felt flat. Whilst I was working towards getting retribution I was quite fired up, excited even as everything came together. Now? I don't know what I felt. I was empty. It was twelve months now since I had insisted Lily leave. The year had been busy with my normal work and then with my extra-curricular activities. I hadn't stopped long enough to give thought to where my life was going and what I would do. At one time it was simple, I would work until I decided that my investments abroad were sufficient and then retire, for Lily and me to move to a better climate and an easier, comfortable life. Bennington and his cohorts had put an end to that dream. I couldn't think of finding another woman to share my life. Once bitten twice shy were the watchwords. Any woman in my life, however loving would suffer a lack of trust on my part. Viewing her actions with suspicion would erode any relationship, descending into argument and mistrust. Deprived of my ambitions I did what I knew best and buried myself in the exacting world of accountancy.

The General telephoned me to tell me that Frank and Jack had declined to buy the shares.

"Looks like we're stuck with them." He then went on. "Mr. Martin. You said the Company was viable if run properly." I agreed I had said that. "Well, would you consider running it for us? I would be willing to make you a gift of shares, to give you an incentive, and I am sure that there could be a good salary as well." 

"General. I am flattered by your offer, but I should tell you that accountants are not the right people to run companies. You need an entrepreneur, a man with ideas, willing to take a chance. Accountants by their training are incapable of that. All you need for proof is the large concerns in this country that failed: British Rail, British Steel, Austin Rover; all run by accountants."

"I take your point. Bloody Army is run by accountants now." He said bitterly. "Moving on. I was wondering if you would agree to come and take Lunch with me. My cousin, Mrs. Dax is as eager as I to show our gratitude for your intervention. I believe you live near to Chelmsford, would Tuesday next week suit?" It was obvious that he was not used to having 'no' for an answer. So I accepted. He gave me his address, he lived just outside Danbury. He finished with. "Twelve to twelve-thirty will be fine."

I drove over to Danbury in quite a good mood. Twelve months had passed since I had asked Lily to leave and in those twelve months I had not gone out socially even once. I quite liked the General. He was a bit of a throwback but easy to get on with. He didn't need to act the old soldier, he was one and I am sure he had a fund of interesting stories.

His home was not quite what I expected. Visions of a Manorial residence surrounded by a park, disappeared as I arrived at a modest bungalow, the imagined park becoming a very neat well-kept garden. He welcomed me at the door.

"Mr. Martin. Thank you so much for coming."

"It's good to see you again, General."

"Ambrose is the label."

"Chad." He nodded.

"Short for Charles I presume." He invited me in to where Mrs. Dax stood up to greet me. She told me to call her Terry. It was really Teresa.

"I have been Terry all my life."



Ambrose got us drinks and sat down.

"Chad. I am speaking for both of use when I say that you have done us a great service. I, as you can imagine inherited these shares. The army doesn't have too much need for accountants and I know absolutely nothing about running a business. Terry's husband was the last of the actual Dax's to take a hands-on interest in the business. When he died Bennington seemed like our saviour. We would never have known what he was doing until the business crashed. I suspect that would have cost us a lot more than just a fine to the Inland Revenue. Thank you." I made the appropriate non-committal noises.

Over lunch the conversation was light and amusing, until we were having coffee when Ambrose threw a pointed question at me.

"Why did you take an interest in our Company?" I waffled a little saying my principles were always interested in a possibly buy-in. He shook his head in disbelief.

"It wouldn't have anything to do with Bennington first and foremost would it, Chad?"

"Well..."

"Or the fact that a young woman bearing the same name as yours left suddenly?" I raised my hands as a surrendering soldier would do.

"Ok, you've got me." He grinned.

"Is she your wife?" Terry Dax joined the inquisition. I nodded.

"But you're not together anymore."

"No." I confirmed her thoughts sadly. Ambrose gave me a look of sympathy.

"It will not help you, but she wasn't the only one. Bennington was a rather busy man in that area."

"You knew?" I was a little testy.

"No. The police interviewed the staff and it would appear that some of them were aware of what he was up to. The police also found a bottle of liquid in his desk drawer. When it was tested it turned out to be one of those nasty drugs that bounders will slip into a girl's drink." Terry Dax came over to me and laid a motherly hand on my arm.

"That knowledge may help. She wasn't in control of herself." I shook my head.

"She was in control of herself when she went to lunch with him all those times. I can't see that his drugging her made any difference. She shouldn't have been there in the first place."

My outburst put a damper on the conversation. Ambrose picked up and asked an innocuous question.

"You live quite close to Chelmsford, I believe." I gratefully accepted the change of topic.

"Yes. I live in Abbess Roding."

"Oh, how lovely." Terry gushed. "The Roothings are beautiful villages." The conversation then centred on the delights of English Villages as places to live. I was preparing not to outstay my welcome and said that I should leave. Then the General made another intuitive comment.

"That Mr. Weston is a rather difficult man to deal with. We asked what I believed to be a very reasonable price for the shares, but he offered so little. To accept we would be giving them away. I suspect he is a bit of a rogue." I smiled.

"You may well be right, Ambrose. He's an East End lad as I am. I think he does a little Ducking and Diving." Ambrose grinned.

"I believe that is what is called being economical with the truth. Whatever. We had quite a few like that in the army. Always on charges for one thing or another, but bloody good soldiers all the same. The ones you would want around when things were getting difficult." 

As I drove home I reflected on what Ambrose had revealed. So Bennington was a serial seducer and Lily was but one of his successes. It didn't make a difference to my decision. If his playing around were common knowledge in the office, then Lily should have been forewarned. She allowed him to take her for lunch over many weeks. She should have known what his purpose was and she continued to see him. To me that meant acceptance of that purpose.



CHAPTER SIX

Hearing that Bennington had been sent down for a sentence of two years was for me an anti-climax. The bastard would serve his sentence at an open prison as he wasn't judged to be dangerous. Well to the general population he wasn't, but to other men's wives? That was a different story. What did cheer me up was that in his divorce his wife did indeed take him to the cleaners. When he came out of prison he would be homeless, probably penniless and would never get employment again at the level he had once enjoyed and abused. Vin could not find anything pertaining to Haskins and Wellow apart from the short report in the paper. I was content. No I bloody wasn't! I was forever without the one person who had made my life happy, and they had done that to me. 

Fate had not finished with me yet. It still had surprises up its sleeve.

The General and Mrs. Dax had kept in touch. I wouldn't describe them as close friends now, but friendly acquaintances. Elwin Dax Ltd. had recommenced operating after the investigation, the Inland Revenue having decided that they wouldn't apply for liquidation; but needed a strong hand at the helm. I had sat in with them this day to interview a couple of applicants to fill Bennington's chair. One of them I thought particularly suitable, although either of them would do well. 

After the applicants had left, we sat in the boardroom with a cup of tea and discussed the applicants. They both agreed with me on the C.V. of the one and wanted to make him an offer. I had to point out that the salary and bonus structure would have to be high to get him.

"I agree he is the best candidate, but doubt he would come here for the package that you can afford to offer. The Company is operating on a fair size overdraft. Economies have to be in place until that is reduced. Perhaps you should settle for Mr. Seddon. I think he will do a good job, and the Company can afford him."

"Chad, you have your accountant's hat on." Quipped Ambrose.

"I thought that was why you asked me to sit in?" I smiled and so did he. Terry Dax settled it.

"I think we should listen to Chad. He's given us good advice before and we should accept his advice now, Ambrose." He nodded.

"Agreed." 

Terry Dax then changed the topic.

"Chad, have you given thought to your wife at all?" 

"No."

"You should you know. I think she is just as much a victim in this as you were."

"Why do you think that, Terry?"

"From what you have said and from what we have learned from the investigation, Bennington was a skilled seducer. He was her boss, and as an employee she would be inclined to follow his instructions. No one talked about his activities until the police questioned them, so it was not common knowledge. I doubt that she understood what he intended, and I am sure he spun a good story. If then he used that drug...Well I would think any number of girls would fall for it." For months my position was that Lily had been aware of what she was doing. I had clung to that notion, yet Terry had suggested a scenario that was completely plausible. Lily had never been subservient but she was very conscientious about her job, and would carry out her boss's instructions to the letter. If she had no inkling of his reputation I doubt that she would question those instructions and then suddenly it was too late. With Terry's words in mind I drove out of the yard and turned left. If I were to ask Lily back, would she do that again? My gut feeling was no she wouldn't.

There was a supermarket just a few hundred yards away and on the spur of the moment I decided to pop in and get a few supplies. I particularly needed washing powder. My cleaner, Mrs. Solby had taken over the washing after I had an incident. I had run out of washing powder and clean shirts at the same time. So I put a load in and used washing up liquid as a substitute. Bad move. I had to cycle the whole wash three times before getting the suds out of my shirts. Even then they smelt of detergent for days. Mrs. Solby had different views. The powder drawer was quite big and she believed that it had to be filled. I could not understand why she was adding washing powder to my need list almost every other week, until one day I happened to be home when she did the washing. Diplomatically I showed her the little scoop that came with the powder explaining the manufacturer's recommendation. Thereafter I only had to buy washing powder once every six weeks.

I picked up a basket and strolled into the supermarket. It was a shock to see Lily at the checkout. I thought it was Lily although she was wearing a hat with a veil over her face. Were those bloody fates taking an interest in me again. Giving me a nudge? I did my shopping as quickly as I could and went to the same till as she had used. She was of course long gone by then. I chatted with the check-out girl.





Calculating Nemesis



"The lady with the veil, I think I recognised her."

"Oh yes. Mrs. Martin. She lives just round the corner, comes in every day."

"Why the veil."

"I think she has a skin condition. I'm not exactly sure; I've only been here four weeks."

"You don't know the address?"

"No. I know its Hathaway Road, but that's all."

I came out in two minds. It was one of those brain and heart battles. No said my brain, she's no longer in your life, remember what she did. And then the part of the brain that governs curiosity stepped in. What skin condition? Lily didn't have that when she was with me, her complexion was completely healthy. Then my heart jumped in on the side of curiosity, reiterating the words of Terry Dax. I found Hathaway Road.

It was one of those long roads you would find within easy reach of the town centre everywhere. Long terraces of Edwardian homes built for those who were called artisans in the years before the First World War. Bow front sash windows with an angular slated roof jutting from just below the first floor windows. They had once been popular and well proportioned homes. Now they seemed to be divided into flats and bed-sits. The local council provided wheeled bins for rubbish, ignoring the fact that as terraced houses there was nowhere for the bin to go except the front gardens. The Edwardians had not envisaged a time when almost every family would have a car so hadn't provided for garaging space. The road was lined with cars parked either side, some appeared to have been there forever judging by the flat tyres, the dirty condition of grime mixed with pigeon droppings and detritus underneath them. I slipped into the first space that offered itself. 

Choosing the nearest door I knocked. After a while a woman's face peered round as the door opened to about six inches.

"Yes?"

"I am sorry to bother you. I am looking for a lady, a Mrs. Martin. Do you know what number she lives at?"

"No." The door was shutting when I added quickly.

"She wears a hat and veil." The door opened slightly again.

"I've seen her walking down the road. She lives somewhere down there." She pointed to the right.

"Thank you." The door shut before I had even got those words out. I got back in the car debating whether to drive further or keep the parking space I had. I drove further hoping to get lucky with the parking.

I drove about two hundred yards and then started looking to park. Again I was lucky as a space appeared. I was dubious about parking there as there seemed to be a lot of broken glass in the road. However I couldn't see another space so backed in. I chose another door at random and knocked. I waited for a few minutes and getting no response went next door. This door did open and a Pakistani gentleman glowered at me. I explained my quest. The description of the lady with a veil again brought a response and his face became less aggressive.

"I don't know her name, but she lives just over there at number three one six. I think it's the ground floor flat." I thanked him and crossed the road to find three one six. At some time the front wall to the garden had been knocked down presumably to provide a parking area. Now it was just used for the wheelie bins. There were two bell pushes one labelled 'top flat'. The other had no sign and I assumed it was for the ground floor flat. I pushed the button. As I waited my stomach got that fluttery feeling. Why was I nervous? The door opened and we stood looking at each other. She was wearing the hat and veil. It seemed like five minutes before she spoke.

"Well. Look who the wind has blown in."

"Hello Lily."

"That's it? Kick me out and after all these months just turn up on the doorstep with a 'hello Lily'?"

"It was just a greeting." She shrugged.

"I suppose you had better come in." She said ungraciously then turned and walked away. I followed allowing the door to close behind me. The door to her flat was the first on the right and she held it for me to enter. The place was furnished after a fashion with what looked like second-hand furniture, but little of it. One chair, a small table and an electric fire where the chimney breast used to be. To one side, its back to the window was a portable television on a low table. I looked around then turned to her as she took off the hat and veil. I was shocked beyond belief.

"Bloody Hell! What happened to you?" Her face was a mess. It looked like a plastic model of a face that had melted. Great areas of angry red tissue covered her forehead and the left side of her face. Her lips had almost disappeared. She stared back challenging me. I could see the anger.

"Come to see what you had done, Chad. Well have a good look. You only have to see it once; I will see it in the mirror every day for the rest of my life." The fury in her voice was unmistakeable.

"Lily. What happened?"

"As if you didn't know." She sneered. "This is the result of acid being thrown in your face. Did you think it would look like this?"

"What are you talking about? What did you mean when you said as if I didn't know?" The challenging stare slipped a little.

"Oh don't act the innocent with me. You know bloody well what I am talking about."

"Lily. I have absolutely no idea." She looked unsure now.

"The man who did it said, 'this is revenge'. I think...thought...supposed it was you who had it done." I shook my head sadly.

"How long were we together, Lily?"

"Six years, three months and seventeen days." The answer came so quickly and confidently that I was shocked.

"Did you not come to know me well in those six years, three months and... what was it?"

"Seventeen days."

"Do you honestly believe that I would do something, or have something like this done to you? Something so hateful and full of spite. Was that how you saw me?" Tears ran from under eyelids that would no longer close properly. She shook her head.

"No I couldn't. But only one other would hate me as much as you did."

"And who was that other, Lily?"

"It was me!" She cried. "Me!"



CHAPTER SEVEN

"It was me!" She cried. "Me." Her emotion was real.

"No Lily. I didn't hate you. I hated what you did, but not you, never you." I closed the space between us and took her in my arms. She shuddered with sobs racking her body. I fished in my pocket to pull out my handkerchief thankful that I had taken a clean one from the drawer that morning. I offered it to her and that brought a fresh bout of sobbing as she took it.

Ten minutes or it could have been fifteen, I don't know, she seemed to get herself together. She handed me back my handkerchief.

"Why did you come here, Chad? You know you are bringing back all the hurt again?"

"I saw you in the supermarket. I wasn't sure if it was you, but the girl at the check-out told me it was a Mrs. Martin and she also told me you lived in Hathaway Road. So I thought I would call to see if it was you and if you were alright." She looked at me calmly and I shook my head. "No, Lily. Honestly I don't know why I came to see you. One part of me said no, don't drag up the past, the other said go see her. Even as I crossed the road and rang the bell I was still conflicted and my stomach was tying itself in knots." She nodded.

"Yes, Chad. That sounds more like the truth. I'm sorry for the tears. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"That would be good. I'm as dry as the Sahara." She went to put the kettle on.

"Come through, Chad, that's if you can stand the sight of me." She showed me through to the back room which was her kitchen. "Thank you for the allowance you send me. It's godsend now as I can't get work anymore. They take one look at my face and I can see the rejection in their attitude." She went on. "I had to sell the car. I couldn't afford the running costs and I needed the money." I could understand that. As she waited for the kettle to boil, she took some skin cream and anointed her face.

"Is that something the hospital recommended?" She shook her head, whispering something.

"I didn't hear that. What did you say?" She faced me and squared her shoulders.

"I didn't go to the hospital." I exploded.

"For Christ's sake, Lily. Why?" Tears slid in globules over the cream and down her cheeks.

"I thought it was you. I was so certain that you arranged it and if I went to the hospital the police would investigate and they would come and arrest you. And I didn't want you to get into trouble. I had caused you enough pain without adding to it." The words tumbled out. I was struck dumb. She had accepted the pain and the destruction of her face purely because she thought I would be in trouble with the police. To say that I was astounded and humbled would be an understatement.

"Lily, even if I had caused this to happen, you should have gone to the hospital. You needed treatment. Whoever arranged the attack deserves all the punishment that's coming. If you had gone to hospital at least the police would have a chance of finding the culprit." I had to emphasise my denial. "Lily. It wasn't me. I couldn't do that to you." She looked into my eyes as if reading the thoughts behind them, and then nodded in acceptance.

"Exactly what happened and how did you cope if you didn't call an ambulance?"

"It was a Monday and I was getting ready for work when the doorbell rang. I answered it. There was a skinny man there, tall but very thin and he asked if I was Mrs. Martin. I said yes and he said "This is revenge". I seem to recall a glass bottle in his hand as he swung it around and the next thing I knew was this cold liquid on my face. Then it started to burn and I could smell it. I knew it was acid. He ran as soon as the stuff hit my face. I think I had closed my eyes instinctively. I felt my way back in here and tried to find a cloth to wipe it off, but then some memory about diluting acid came to me. I found my way into the bathroom and got under the shower It was very cold. I think I stayed there for about an hour. I was soaking wet, my clothes, and my hair. I was chilled to the bone but my face was still burning. I opened my eyes and looked in the mirror. I saw a red blistered mass of flesh, all puffed up. I knew then that I would never look pretty again." Remembering and recounting the episode had brought on her tears again. There was nothing I could do except put my arms around her.

She used my hanky to dry yet more tears. My mind was in turmoil yet suddenly from those swirling thoughts there was a sudden ray of light.

"Bennington." Lily turned from pouring the tea.

"What about him?"

"Bennington did it."

"How do you work that out?"

"Can we sit down? I have a story to tell you."

She told me to sit in the only armchair and she pulled out a dining chair from the table. I explained the whole thing of Bennington, Haskins and Wellow. What I had done to get revenge and as I told the story I realised that Lily's initial reaction was right and wrong. It was my actions. I had started the sequence of events that injured her. If I hadn't taken revenge on Bennington Lily would not have had to suffer this despicable attack. 

"What I did has ruined Bennington. He will probably go to prison. And I had to let him know that it was your husband who did this to him. I needed him to know. Perhaps he decided to hit back and you took the pain. Lily I am so sorry, I didn't think for a moment that it would rebound on you."

"I don't see it that way, Chad. I am pleased that you took your revenge. If it was Bennington then what happened to me was an unforeseen side-effect."

"You seem to take it lightly." Lily smiled bitterly.

"It doesn't matter anymore." She indicated her face. "This happened and there is nothing that will ever make it better." I had made my mind up a while ago. That she was willing to suffer all this agony alone, simply to protect me from what she thought would be arrest and punishment told volumes. Whatever she had done, surely she had paid penance now. To my mind a greater penance than anyone could ask for. She had accepted disfigurement to keep me from supposed imprisonment. I owed Lily a life.

Cautiously I asked. "Lily. Will you come back home? Call it compassion, sympathy, guilt, whatever. It is still love. I told you that I couldn't stop loving you, and I haven't. I wanted you to suffer as I was suffering. I wanted you to feel the pain that I felt. But never in a thousand years would I have wished on you the pain that you have born. We will take you to a cosmetic surgeon and see what can be done. But please, Lily. Come home with me, I want to take care of you." She shook her head.

"No, Chad. I can't do that." She held up her hand to stop me saying anything. "Let me say here and now. Chad I loved you then, and I love you now. I would be over the moon to think that we could get together and it would be as before. But it wouldn't be. I hurt you so badly. It wasn't deliberate, even so I destroyed something. I can't just walk back as if nothing had happened. You would still look at me and see this face and why it is like it is. Then your anger would return."

"That is something we have to talk about. We both have to understand. I have talked with Mrs. Dax and she has told me some things that make me think I didn't know the full story."

"Mrs. Dax?" I could hear the astonishment in her voice.

"Yes. I suppose you could say that I am now acquainted with her and with Lieutenant General Stanley. After all I interfered with their business to get rid of Bennington and they now seem to view me as some kind of business advisor."

"What did she say?"

"It would appear that Bennington was a serial seducer. You Lily, were one of a quite a few. Only once he had been dismissed would anyone say anything about it. I would imagine that he was skilled with words and wove a story that would pull you in."

"He did. He invited me to lunch, saying that it was something he occasionally did with all employees. He told me that the Company was in difficulties. I thought he was wrong to tell me that. He went on to say that he had a chance to pull in a new client who would give us business on a regular basis over months, if not years. If he could get their contract then the redundancies he had planned would not be needed. He told me that I could help him. I wanted to help. The only thing I thought was odd was that he would always insist we went in my car."

"That sounds right. Flatter you that he needed your help, and then lay a guilt trip on you if you didn't come through. You would be to blame if your friends and colleagues lost their jobs. As for the car, I suspect that Jag of his was easily recognisable and if he was driving a pretty young lady around the town it would get back."

"When you say it like that it sounds plausible." She looked at me to see if she had used the right word, something she would do occasionally when we talked at home. That little gesture really tugged at my heart strings. "Tell me Chad, you seem to know the routine, are you a serial seducer?" She had a slight smile. A smile that used to be the fillip to my day. The smile that made my life worthwhile. 

"No Lily. The only girl I ever wanted to seduce was you. You seem as if you knew what he was doing." She shook her head.

"You were the only man I wanted to seduce me." She gave me a sad smile. "But in answer to your question no I didn't. Not at the time. He said he was going to entertain these two men from this company to lunch, and asked me if I would act as hostess. Making drinks being nice to them. Well that was the sort of work a receptionist would do. That was my job, only it was at a hotel rather than in the office. I had no idea if he planned what happened. I have had months to think it over and still can't understand why I was so stupid."

I needed to ask the difficult question. On the DVD she seemed quite happy to take the lead in her own seduction.

"I'm sorry to ask this, but you seemed to be quite happy at that lunch."

"I think I was. The talks with Mr. Haskins and Mr. Wellow were going well, although I won't pretend that I understood it all. It looked as if we were going to get the contract. I was happy as I remember, very happy and I suppose flirtatious. They had been very nice to me, complimenting me all the time, telling me that my smile had made their day. Women respond to that. I don't know where the idea of taking my clothes off came from. I suppose I did it to say I appreciated their behaviour and make them happy. I didn't think that they would take it as a sign that I was ready to have sex with them. How stupid is that? Women know that if they take their clothes off for a man he will get aroused, Yet it didn't occur to me, it didn't ever enter my mind!"

"I believe he did plan what happened. I have been told he used a drug on many occasions. Probably slipped into your drink. I suspect your euphoria, lack of inhibition and fuddled brain was down to that." Lily shook her head.

"No Chad. I was making the drinks. That was why I was there."

"Not all the drinks, Lily. Just after Lunch. He poured the drinks."

"I don't think so, Chad."

"It was on the DVD, Lily. He poured the drinks on that one occasion."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"I don't remember that." The full import of the possibilities obviously opened her eyes and understanding arrived with her. "The bastard!" She suddenly screamed. In all the time I had known Lily, she had never sworn. I wanted to clear up the suggestion that she may have gone to a room with him on another occasion.

"Was that the only time?"

"Yes. Thinking back I believe there was a time when he was going to try. One of the girls told me after that Friday that he had booked a room a couple of weeks before. I couldn't go as I was filling in for one of the secretaries who had gone home feeling unwell that day. God! I wished someone else could have been unwell that Friday." Lily's tone when telling me that was so matter of fact that I was in doubt that she told the truth.

Re-telling the story was quite emotional for her and she wept again. I went to comfort her. She muttered imprecations and called Bennington all the names under the Sun. I said nothing as the extent of his manipulations came home. Suddenly her arms clasped me.

"Oh, Chad. I am so very, very sorry." My sodden handkerchief came out again to dry her tears. I raised her face and kissed her. Her lips were thin remnants of those she had before, yet I kissed her lips. Lily was shocked. "How can you do that? I am ugly and scarred."

"You are still the Lily I fell in love with. Yes, you were pretty, but I fell in love with the person you were, not how you looked. You are still that person. That person is beautiful and I still love that person." The tears still ran down her face at odds with the smile she now wore.

"Can I change my mind? May I come home, please Chad?"

"I want you to come home."



CHAPTER EIGHT AND EPILOGUE

Lily had not taken all her clothes with her when I made her leave, and her wardrobe was just as she left it. Her expression was wonderful to see as she ran her hands over the dresses and suits. One dress and one suit she picked out throwing them angrily on the floor.

"Those go in the rubbish." I had wanted to throw them away, but could never bring myself to open Lily's wardrobe. It would be like opening the box of sorrows. She replaced her cosmetics in the bathroom, although remarking as she did so.

"I won't have use for them, but I am happy to see them back on this shelf. She stopped suddenly as she came out of the bathroom. "Chad. Would you prefer that I sleep in the spare room?"

"No I wouldn't." I replied firmly. "I want you back where you belong, in our bed sleeping next to me. This is no halfway house situation. We will make it together or fail together. But I don't expect failure. As far as your make up is concerned, I am glad it is back on that shelf. I have had all too much space there for the last months. We will find a good cosmetic surgeon too, so you never know you may have use for them again."