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It's Gill with a 'G'

By: Kezza67



!HEALTH WARNING! This story is about a wife who cheats and is eventually reconciled with her husband. If that situation is liable to raise your ire and blood pressure to intolerable heights. DO NOT READ.

*

Chapter one.

The bus was late. Why this morning? It usually turned up on time, however its running behind schedule this morning was to my benefit, as she was not at the bus stop yet. Usually she would be here, waiting for the bus at eight, the timetable had the bus arrive at eight oh four, now it was eight oh seven. I could have, should have, caught the 107 service which stopped four minutes earlier, that took a more direct route to get me to school, but I had for the past few mornings waited for the 104 service that went into Birmingham, where I would have to catch another bus that would get me to school in the nick of time. Why did I take this risk? Because of her. She caught the 104 to where she worked in the centre of Birmingham.

I saw the bus come round the bend about four hundred yard away, a red behemoth belonging to the 'Birmingham and Midland Motor Omnibus Co' fondly known as the 'Midland Red' I had no choice now, I had to take both the bus and the inevitable detention for being late. Then I saw her, walking very quickly, it was touch and go whether the bus would get to the stop before her. That was when the Gremlins decided to play for my team. The bus arrived. Now these buses were double decked, as was the usual British style in the fifties, and they also had pneumatic folding doors at the rear nearside to allow passengers to alight and board. The driver operated the controls, but they were to say the least temperamental. This was one of those times, the doors didn't open. We waited, and that wait gave her the time to get to the bus stop. The driver tried his control a couple of times, you could see the doors shudder, but they didn't open. So I stepped forward and pressed the passenger emergency button on the panel just next to the door. Bingo! It worked. I stood back and let the other three people get on the bus, and then waited for her, the last to arrive. I received a smile that made any punishment for lateness an honour.

She climbed the stairs and I followed her. The top deck was arranged in two by two seating with a central gangway. She sat down next to a window, which left a vacant seat next to the gangway. I hovered, as if I was deciding where to sit, when she looked up, and moved slightly, gathering her skirt so that the seat next to her was clear, then she looked up at me. The invitation was apparent, so I sat. She was a slim girl with mousy blonde hair. Her figure was not in any way voluptuous, her waist had to be about twenty-two or twenty-three inches but her hips set the skirt she was wearing swishing nicely. I had noticed her bust surreptitiously on previous mornings. Her breasts swelled her blouse nicely but didn't announce their presence boldly. Even with the medium heels she wore she was slightly shorter than me. She was attractive without being obvious, the sort of girl that you get to know, and with that familiarity comes gradual realisation that there is a beauty about her not immediately apparent.

"That was clever." She praised me. "I didn't know those buttons worked."

"Well, I...I just assumed that that was what they were there for." She turned slightly in her seat and looked at me.

"What School do you go to?" It was obvious I was still at school, uniforms were compulsory then.

"Handsworth." I replied. 

"The Grammar?" She pushed me further.

"Yes."

"Sixth form?"

"Yes." Now you can appreciate my fluid tongue when I talked with girls.

"I'm Gill, with a 'G'"

"I'm Andrew."

"Are you usually Andrew, or do your friends call you Andy?"

"Andy."

"And do you speak in sentences of more than one word." She was smiling and I blushed, almost as red as the bus was painted. I was saved by the conductor, wanting our fares. Gill paid her fare, and I just showed him the travel pass issued to me by the Education Authorities. I apologised to Gill.

"I'm sorry, but I seem a bit thick at the moment." She smiled.

"Don't worry. I haven't much practice with talking to boys. What are you studying?" Her confession and understanding helped me to finally get my tongue undone from the knot it was in and allowed me to talk with slightly more ease than before.

"English language, Literature and Art."

"Are you doing well in English language?" She was grinning.

"It would appear not. Perhaps I need more practice."

"Well your getting better."

That was the start of a emotional journey that I travelled for years, and am still travelling. It may seem strange to some that I got tongue-tied. You really have to blame the education system of that era in the UK. After the eleven-plus exam, those boys and girls who were deemed suitable for higher education were separated into different single sex schools. The resultant was that they emerged into the world, heads full of knowledge apart from the vital subject of knowing how to talk with these strange creatures of the opposite sex. It was even worse if you went on to study for University entrance, as I was doing. Young men, with hormones demanding attention, and little knowledge of how to create any kind of relationship with the member of the opposite sex. Crazy! Here I was at eighteen gauche and uncertain with a girl who was the same age as me. I looked as if I should be at ease with girls, two inches under six foot, brown hair, that would, if I let it get long, flow back from my brow in corrugated waves, I didn't want that so I kept it short almost a crew cut. I had been skinny for most of my life, but at last I was filling out quickly. I would not describe myself as handsome, that was for others to say, but my face was regular and symmetric. So it never sent anyone away screaming in fright. Now having screwed up my courage I was going to see if I could relate to Gill with a 'G'. 

Gill and I would see each other everyday after that first faltering start. We would travel in to Birmingham in the morning, and I would wait for her to get out of work in the evening. Gill's father had died two years before we met. Typically of British companies at that time there was no company life assurance, and the state would only pay a meagre amount in widows pension. So Gill, despite being of above average intelligence had to leave school and find a job to help with the family expenses. She worked with the Inland Revenue doing mundane clerking work that did not in any way challenge her intellect.

We did go to the cinema from time to time, but money was always a problem, most of her wages were needed at home, and I of course wasn't earning anything, my time being full with study. During holidays I would get part-time employment, with the postal service at Christmas, and with various stores at other times. So Gill and I would enjoy all the pastimes that cost nothing like walking in the countryside and sitting in the park people watching. We would amuse ourselves making up fantasy stories about the others we saw there. These fantasies were not malicious, even so I suspect that the stories we made up would not amuse those who were the subject. Yes there was another pastime that cost nothing, but in those days girls usually went on their honeymoon as virgins. The pill was available, But a girl needed her parent's permission to get a prescription, and how many would do that? Very few young men of my age had the confidence to walk into a chemist or a Barbers to buy condoms. So sex was not on the menu. I tried, of course I tried, we spent many happy hours kissing and cuddling but apart from allowing me to fondle her breasts from outside her clothing, Gill had no intention of allowing further intimacy. She did seem to enjoy my caressing her breasts though, so I, who had only ever felt one girl's breasts before, was content.

Eventually the time came when I went away to university. Gill and I were both in tears at the thought of this separation, and for a while I had thought not to go. My parents were adamant that I would go, and Gill, who would have found a place at University easily, were it not for her family's circumstances added her voice to that of my parents. Sadly I packed the clothes and books I would need for the first term (Semester). I had been accepted at Cambridge, and there was very little chance of getting back to see Gill until the end of term. I think my unhappiness at being away from Gill, on my own without family to back me, and the new world I had entered was the cause of my inability to fit in that first term. I came home that Christmas determined that I would not return. Some hopes. Gill while delighted to see me, would not hear of my dropping out. We talked long and hard, and eventually she convinced me. It also helped that she allowed me more intimacy than hitherto. She had unbuttoned her blouse and allowed me to slip my hand inside her brassiere. Her breast sitting beautifully soft and warm in my hand was a powerful argument. Our kisses reached a new high in passion. I persuaded myself that another term would have me enjoy even more of her.

We exchanged letters on a weekly basis. It was frustrating for me as although I was studying for a BA in English Language and Literature, I seemed unable to express in writing what my heart and emotions wanted me to say, so my letters were generally about what I was doing and studying that week. Her letters were chatty, catching me up on all that was happening, but always expressed her loneliness without me, and how much she looked forward to seeing me again. I had now settled at Cambridge, becoming used to my surroundings and the systems. Studies were going well. But I looked forward to the spring break, with aroused anticipation for what Gill would allow me next.

Aroused anticipation was not telling me the truth. Gill would allow nothing more than she had at Christmas. She must have a will of iron. My hand inside her bra was obviously getting to her, her nipples erected stiffly, and her gasps as I rubbed them with my thumb and forefinger told the story, yet when my free hand wandered slowly up her skirt, I managed to find the top of her stocking (long before pantyhose, happy days!) but there she clamped her legs together so tightly my hand felt it was caught in a Mangle. She had her limits, and I had to respect them.

"Andy, I want to do all these things with you, but think how much better it will be when we are married. We can go to bed on our marriage night and I will be naked for you. All we want then, we can have, without shame." Fine I thought, but that doesn't help me now with this raging erection.

I had little doubt that I loved Gill, nor that she loved me. The tears when we parted for me to go back to Cambridge were without doubt genuine. The way she clung to me, knowing I had to go, yet extracting the last ounce of contact before I boarded the train. Our partings were painful, and the greetings when I returned ecstatic. Neither of us questioned that we would be married as soon as I gained my degree. Yet the three years at Cambridge asked for and received a heavy toll. It was the third Christmas that I went round to see Gill. She had gone down with a really heavy cold, and was in bed. Her mum was just going out, and asked me to make Gill a hot lemon drink. I took the drink upstairs and knocked on her door. I knew which bedroom she slept in, but had never been in.

"It's OK Andy. I'm decent." That was a blow. I opened the door and went in. Gill was sitting up in bed, wearing a nightgown. I knew that she hadn't made a mistake, as she let her arms fall to the side offering me the view. The nightgown was diaphanous, and her breasts and erect nipples could be clearly seen through the fabric. She smiled at me, a smile of welcome and apprehension. Heavy cold or no, I had to kiss her. I put the drink down on the bedside table and sat, leaning forward to draw her into my arms. She gave me her lips willingly, and as we kissed sought and found my hand and placed it on her breast. 

"Touch me, Andy." I did. Caressing her breast in the manner I had before. Her moans told me that it pleased her, but her next action told me even more. She again found my hand, and slipped it through the opening of the gown finding once again that pinnacled jewel. She moved a little, and as if of it's own accord her nightgown opened, exposing those two feminine moons as never before. I moved down and took her nipples one by one in my mouth. Gently suckling and nipping. Her gasps were more frequent and at a higher volume now.

"That's so good. I didn't ever imagine that your mouth on my breasts would be so exciting." More movement as she kicked at the bedclothes, then lifted my mouth from her breasts, asking me without words to look at her. The gown was parted all the way to its bottom hem, and Gill lay there naked, unashamed. Her breasts didn't slip to the side, there wasn't enough of them to do that, her stomach was quite flat so her hip bones raised gently either side like small hills, and there was that little patch of curly hair, guarding, yet highlighting the treasure between her legs. As if of their own accord her legs opened, and the lips of her vulva unstuck and spread. 

"Gill, you are so beautiful." She smiled happily, knowing that her body pleased me. I understood what Gill was offering me. Years of tormented lust urged me to explore her depths and take her. But Love asked a different question. I knew that it was Gill's wish to come to our marriage bed a virgin. If I loved her, how could I not allow her to make the gift she longed to give. I also knew that later I would hate myself for this, but I had no choice. I leaned down and placed a kiss on her cleft, she smelt wonderful, then I pulled the bedclothes up to cover her.

"Gill, I love you. I love you enough to want the same thing that you want. Both of us coming to our marriage bed as virgins. Believe me it is painful not to take advantage now. But you have been clear about what you want all these years. I will graduate in six months, we have waited for four years, can we not wait another few months?" The apprehension left Gills face to be replaced with a calm loving smile.

"Thank you Andy. I would have given myself to you, you know. But I am so pleased that you also think that we should wait." She offered her lips to kiss. The she smiled a secret smile of mischief.

"I know I will love it. Your lips on my nipples were good enough, but when you kissed me down there it was like an electric shock. How come you knew to do that." I was as confused as Gill about that.

"I don't know. Your...your vagina was so pretty, that I just had to kiss you there. Do you mind?"

"Mind? My darling. I loved it. You'll have to remember that, and I'm glad you think my vagina is pretty." I didn't know where that kiss came from. You don't get an instruction leaflet with a woman, and if there were books on the subject, they were certainly not in my school library. I was an English undergraduate. I had seen the word cunnilingus. But at that moment the words on a page did not relate it to the kiss I gave Gill's vagina.

I left feeling very good about my noble stance. Two days later I went down with the head cold. So much for righteousness.

The next few months flew past. I was at my books from morning to night with the spectre of finals coming ever closer. By August I was back home Andrew Gresham B.A.(Hons). All degrees are supposed to be the same, but putting Cambridge (Cantab) or Oxford (Oxon) after them was the glittering lights. First thing was to find a job, and I was lucky. I was recruited by an advertising agency, AGH Associates. Most companies in the UK had something they called the Publicity Dept., responsible for what passed as advertising, such as billboards, posters on buses, enamelled signs on railways stations and the like. But with the advent of TV advertising a more professional approach was required. Using the knowledge and experience of the States (again) a number of creative types had set up agencies devoted to producing TV adverts. I knew full well that my tutors at Cambridge would have thrown up their hands in horror at this Honours graduate selling out to greedy Mammon, but I was getting married, and to get a mortgage to buy a house needed a decent confirmed salary. My Dad came up with the deposit, and within three months I was the proud owner of a three bed-roomed semi-detached house on the better side of Erdington. Gill was fully involved in the viewing and decision to buy, and her salary was taken into account for the mortgage.

We married in October. It was a Church wedding; Gill was a confirmed believer; but it was quiet. Mrs. Walton, her mother was unable to splash out on a big wedding, and Gill would not hear of my father paying, as he had already made the deposit on our house. After the Church, we went to 'La Reserve' a decent restaurant in Sutton Park for a meal, and later Gill and I slipped away in my hired car to Kingsbridge in Devon for our Honeymoon.

Gill made a joke as I was unpacking my case. She leaned in and grabbed the pyjamas I had brought. Smiling she asked me.

"Do you honestly think that you will wear these?" I grinned sheepishly.

"I wasn't going to put them in, but as I was packing the case, mum came in with them, telling me that I had forgotten them. I didn't have the courage to tell her they weren't needed." Gill was laughing now.

"What does she think we will be doing?"

"Well I know what I will be doing." I took Gill in my arms, kissing her deeply, and felt behind her to unzip her skirt. She looked bright-eyed at me.

"Yes my darling. Take me to bed." We were undressed in thirty seconds and rolling around the bed. I think we were both delirious feeling each other's naked body for the first time. My heart was pounding, so much so that my hands shook uncontrollably. At the optimum time Gill grabbed my pyjamas and lifting her hips pushed them underneath her bottom.

"There may be some blood." Reminding us both that she was a virgin, as was I.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"I know you don't, but it shouldn't be too much. Please Andy do it, I want to be your wife physically as well as in the eyes of God."

There was blood, and Gill did hurt, and I felt awful, having inflicted pain on the woman I loved. Gill would have none of it. All she said was.

"Those pyjamas came in useful after all." But she saw my distress, and cuddled to me. "Andy, darling Andy. Women know there is pain in loving, being loved, and giving birth. We are prepared for it and suffer willingly for the love we have. The pain will soon go, and now my virginity has gone I shall be open for you whenever you want me. Give me a day, and then I will want you to love me again and again." She was true to her word, and we made love at every opportunity for the rest of our honeymoon.

I had read up on cunnilingus in the library at Cambridge, where they had a huge section devoted to erotica. Having read, I put the theory into practice. Gill went wild! The accepted convention in the early sixties was that the orgasm was the finale to love-making. Only one orgasm? As if they were rationed? That myth was even in some of the books in the library. What rubbish. We could both climax when I was inside Gill, then I would kiss and suck her, and she would climax again. By this time I was ready once more, and upon seeing this Gill would happily open her legs and welcome me into her warm, wet depths. Not bad for two innocents. We did the actions, but the words were taboo. I had read and heard words like Pussy, Cock, Fuck and Cunt, and I am pretty sure that Gill had knowledge of them as well. But although they were in our vocabulary, they were never vocalised.

Chapter two

It's wonderful feeling, travelling home on the bus after a busy day at work, to know that there is this lovely lady, your wife, who has got home at least an hour before you, who will be cooking a great meal, and who later will be happily naked in the bed you share; from the start Gill had insisted that we went to bed naked; allowing intimacies of a very personal nature. That was the feeling that I had every weeknight. Then at weekends there was time for extra loving. Gill and I had no problem about speaking of our sex life. She was open in telling me what she liked and also in asking me what I would like. And she was willing to try. There was no doubt that she loved her vagina being sucked and licked, and I loved doing it for her, it was so intimate, she opening her legs and allowing me access to her most precious parts. We had only been back from out honeymoon for three weeks when she asked a question.


It's Gill with a 'G'



"Andy, I love it when you kiss me down there, but I feel selfish as I haven't returned the pleasure. Would you mind if I tried to suck your penis? Do you think that will give you the same feelings?" I had no idea. Having read up on cunnilingus, the article referred to fellatio, and a little research explained that. I assumed it would feel good so I invited Gill to try. She was tentative at first, aware that it would hurt if she caught me with her teeth. She simply licked to start with, then sucked just the tip into her mouth. Almost immediately she raised her head.

"Is that alright? I didn't hurt you did I?"

"No, not at all. In fact it feels rather good. Very sensitive though."

"Shall I carry on?"

"Only if you want to." She smiled and nodded.

"Yes. I quite like it. It feels a bit spongy, but silky smooth and warm. It's good in my mouth." She returned to her task. She was attuned to my movements, and soon learned from my movements what worked, and also what gave a little discomfort. Soon she was taking more and more of me into her mouth, sucking hard as her head came up, and licking and moisturising with her saliva as she went further down. I could feel the churning in my groin announcing the onset of my climax, and told her that I would spurt soon. She paid little attention. Holding back was a problem as I felt that tightening in my testicles and behind my penis that couldn't be denied.

"Gill! I can't stop myself." I tried to lift her arms to pull her away, but she was having none of that, tightening her grip on my legs. I was out of control, and my climax hit me, and I spurted my semen in her mouth. She stayed, taking the repeated spurts in her mouth, until I had finished. She raised her head with a big smile of accomplishment. Some of my semen clung to her lips, and I wondered where the rest had gone. She opened her mouth.

"I swallowed it all, Andy. It was lovely."

"You shouldn't have done that."

"Why? It came from you. We share everything, and I wanted to share your sperm." I pulled her up, and kissed her. Licking her lips to remove the traces around her mouth. She in turn pushed her tongue into my mouth, sharing my emissions.

That was how we were. Talking about everything, and trying out what we thought would be good. There were no inhibitions in our bed. Openness and honesty came hand in hand with trust. Her trust that I would not hurt her, and my trust that she was there for me. Our innocent fumbles taught us how to please each other. Gill brought up the subject of anal sex. I had to admit that I was not too keen, but if she wanted to try it then I would go along with it. I cannot recall which of us came up with the understanding that some lubricant would be required, but on the evening there was a large tub of cold cream by the bed. The first attempt was not too successful. I was inhibited as I feared that I could hurt Gill, but we persevered, finding the right position for my penetration. Afterwards we discussed this activity openly. Gill decided that whilst there was some good feelings for her, it would never get close to how she felt when I was in her vagina. For me the tightness of her anus was such that I had trouble in controlling my ejaculation. Interesting we decided, but not something to indulge in on a regular basis.

For the next six years our marriage was great. It was then that Gill came off the pill, as we had decided together that now was the right time to have a baby. Eagerly we went about the baby-making procedure, there was an added thrill to making love, the thought that this could be the time that my sperm would meet her egg. Then something happened that shook me. Gill called out just as we were about to climax together.

"Fuck me, Andy. Fuck me!"

I suppose for many married couples that would be a tremendous spur. But not for me. Call us innocent if you will, but we had never used words like that in our love-making. Gill had picked that up from somewhere, or someone else. I put it out of my mind. It had to be something she had heard at the office, I knew enough from the girls in my office how they would talk about all sorts of things and very often sex was an important content of their conversation. Little did I know that it was the distant thunder heralding a storm.

Two days before that Gill had attended her office Christmas party. She had come home around ten thirty, happy, but possibly a little taken by wine. She gave me a great kiss of greeting as she came through the door, and I imagined that I was going to enjoy some uninhibited love making tonight. Not so. No sooner had Gill got into bed than she was out like a light. I smiled lovingly, as I tucked the bed sheets around her, and got in my side. I thought she would probably have a hangover in the morning. The following week, it was my office Christmas party. I am embarrassed to say that I too was non-combatant for Gill, when I got home, and the headache the next morning was one of those that had you declaring "Never again". With the Christmas holiday, visits to parents and relatives, the incident of Gill's swearing had been forgotten.

That lapse of memory came back with a vengeance in the new year. It was rare that I had to go and visit clients. This particular client's brief was that part of the advert should focus on his office procedures. Normally we would use a set and actors for this, but he insisted that we should if possible use his premises and his staff. I wasn't happy with this but he was the client, so I went along. His offices were in the same building as the Inland Revenue, where Gill worked. I wasn't seeking to see Gill while I was there. I was working and she was working, so contact would have been unprofessional. I made my call, and was pleasantly surprised as Mr. William's office and staff could work quite well. He was happy and accompanied me back to the ground floor. We waited for the lift to take us down. The 'ping' announced it's arrival and we turned to the opening doors. There was a man and a woman in the lift, kissing passionately. With an insouciance that had to be admired, the man reached out and pressed the close door button, all the while maintaining his kiss. We were left standing in the foyer bemused.

"That bloody man. At it again, no woman is safe from him." Mr. Williams hissed angrily. "And he just shut the doors on us. I shall go up to the Revenue offices and let them know that Perryman has to be dealt with." I said nothing, as I was in shock. The woman was my wife, my lovely adored Gill. And she was kissing another man passionately!

The journey back to my offices passed in a fog, and even there I was useless for the rest of the day. No paper that came to my desk was read, the black symbols became hieroglyphics as far as my mind was concerned, indecipherable, unintelligible. All I could see was those doors opening and Gill and that man kissing. The scene was replayed many times, as if by the replaying the characters could suddenly change, and it would not be my wife there in his arms. It didn't happen, it did happen, no it didn't. But it did! I told the staff I wasn't well, and went home. I must have made quite a spectacle on the bus, as tears ran down my face. Men don't cry do they? Oh yes they do, and this man was certainly crying.

I made myself some tea once I was home, and then sat in the lounge, thinking sadly, in agony. All the things that I had thought certain were no longer. I had a pain inside that would never cease. I got cold and curled up on the settee, hugging my self for warmth. The tea got cold, not even a sip had been taken. The afternoon light faded as my hopes and dreams faded. Somewhere along the way, I suddenly remembered Gills words. The words that I had set aside and forgotten. "Fuck me Andy, Fuck me!" I knew then that it wasn't only a kiss, however hurtful to me that would have been, Gill had allowed him her body. There was no evidence but I knew, I knew!

Gill found me, still curled up on the settee when she got home. Her concern was palpable.

"Andy! What's wrong? Are you ill? I'll get the Doctor." She picked up the phone.

"No, don't do that." I called. "There's no need." Gill put the phone down and with worry etched on her face came to me.

"What's the matter, Andy?" I knew no other way, we had always been open with each other.

"When were you going to tell me about Mr. Perryman?" For a moment I saw the guilt on her face, but she quickly covered herself.

"Oh, John. We work together, that's all. He's a bit of a friend I suppose."

"Only a bit of a friend. Do you usually open your mouth for kisses from men who you describe as a bit of a friend?" Gill shook her head, not saying anything. I continued. "And is the lift the normal place for you to entertain a bit of a friend?" Gill got up and sat in another chair. 

"How...how did you know that?" Uncertain of how much I knew, uncertain of herself and uncertain of me. I put the uncertainty out of her mind. 

"I was in your building today, seeing a client. We were waiting for the lift, and the doors opened and lo and behold! There was my wife, kissing another man." I took a deep breath to calm my anger. "And I suppose it was him who taught you to say things like "Fuck me Fuck me!" Her tears came then. I was pleased, at least I was not the only one crying that day.

I went to the kitchen and got a tissue for her, then went upstairs to wash my face. When I came down ten minutes later her tears had dried, but it was obvious that it wouldn't take much to start them again.

"Have you nothing to say?" I asked calmly. Gill shook her head.

"I'm sorry." 

"You've had sex with him, haven't you?" She nodded and quietly said.

"Yes." Gill's tears had dried, but mine ran slowly down my cheeks. Her confirmation of what I suspected just devastated me. She saw my hurt, and got up as if to come to me. I shook my head at her.

"Go. Get out." She nodded sadly, and put her coat on. At the door she turned.

"Andy, I am so sorry." She left, and my life went with her.

Half an hour later I felt terrible. All Gill had was the clothes she had worn that day, and her handbag (purse). She would have little money, she usually only allowed herself sufficient for her bus fares and lunch. I was frantic. How can this hurt exist alongside compassion? Where would she go? How would she get there? I called her mother. I didn't want to tell her what was going on, so I simply said that we had an argument, and that she could probably see Gill very soon. Mrs. Walton laughed a little.

"I wondered when you two would have a spat. Don't worry Andy, it's all par for the course. I'll tell her you called when she turns up." I thought to myself that her mother may have different thoughts when and if Gill did arrive.

I couldn't stay in the house that evening, so I went around to my parents. Mum was of the same opinion as Gill's mum, but in private I told my dad what had really happened. He was thoughtful.

"Give me some time to think this over, lad. Let's sleep on it and discuss it in the morning." He had obviously told mum as at breakfast the next morning she was grim-faced. Her advice was unequivocal.

"If she will cheat once, she will do it again, Andy. Go see a solicitor and start divorce proceedings." This was from my mother who was totally opposed to divorce, yet also totally opposed to adultery. Dad proposed caution.

"You have got to talk to her. See if this is a one-off, or if it is an affair." He and mum got into an argument about their seemingly opposing stances. I made my mind up.

"Mum, Dad. I love her so much. But she has hurt more than I thought it possible to be hurt. I don't know if I can put that hurt behind me, but I think I have to talk to her to see if something can be salvaged." Brave words I suppose, but events were already making that course a non-starter.

I phoned my boss and asked for and got some compassionate leave. Despite my misgivings I had to tell him the truth. He was properly sympathetic, and gave me three days off out of my holiday allowance. I had gone back to my house the next day, somehow hoping that Gill would be there. I couldn't have spoken to her politely, but even the fact that she had come home would have told me that there was some possibility of putting our marriage together again. She wasn't there.

The day after her mother phoned.

"Andy, I'm worried about her. She hasn't been here. I phoned some of her old friends, and they haven't seen her either. I don't know what to do." I thought for a moment.

"I shall call her office. They don't like personal calls, but at least I will know she's alright."

"That's a good idea, Let me know won't you, Andy."

"Yes Ma. I will call you as soon as I know."

The Civil Service was a byword for secrecy, except of course when they were State secrets. The manager of the office, Mr. Grumman, would only tell me that Gill had taken sick leave, as from the previous day. He would not comment further than that, until I asked him if Mr. Perryman was at work. That caught him. He asked my why I wanted to know that.

"I believe that Mr. Perryman and my wife have been behaving inappropriately." 

"I can't comment on office gossip. But he is not in today." I knew it, he was aware of this relationship.

"Mr. Grumman, could you ascertain that my wife is alright, and where she is? I ask not for myself, but for her mother, who is very worried about her." I gave him Gill's mother's phone number.

"I'll see what I can do. But it's very irregular."

When I got home from work a couple of days later, Gill had been. Most of her clothes had gone, together with her make-up and toilet stuff. She had left a little note on the table. All it said was 'Sorry. I love you'. Yes I thought, you love me, yet if you had waited for me we could have talked.

Mr. Grumman did find Gill, when he phoned Perryman's flat. He didn't want to tell me, but Gill had asked him to let her mother know, and of course her mother told me. Then she asked the question.

"Andy. What is going on? Why is Gill at this man's flat?" I gave her the simple facts, there was little point in trying to sweeten the news.

"I am so sorry, Andy. What must have possessed my daughter. Now I know why she didn't come to me, she was aware of my views on infidelity. Oh I could wring her neck I am so angry with her. What was she thinking of, she had you, she loved you and you loved her. What is going on in her head. Andy! What are you going to do?"

"I was going to try and talk with Gill, to see if we could salvage our marriage. But I fear that can't happen now. She's taken her clothes and gone to him. Obviously she has more feelings for him that she does for me. I will see a Solicitor and seek a divorce." I put the phone down then as my anguish overwhelmed me, and my sobs would have made speech impossible.

The divorce went through without problem. I took my Solicitors advice and used the grounds of Misconduct. If I had tried for Adultery, he believed that Gill would fight it, and as I had really no evidence apart from Gill's confession to me without witnesses, it would have been a hard and long struggle. She was still living in his flat throughout this time, so I considered that Gill was lost to me for ever. I had accepted that, but had no answer to the question, why? What did I do wrong? I didn't know it at the time but that thought would keep me from any other relationship.

Chapter three

Life was now empty. Six months ago it was full of absolutes, the love I bore for Gill, the love she had for me, the wonderful vista of our life together, stretching far into the future, the planning of a family. All these were gone except one, the love I had for Gill. Despite what had happened, despite my divorcing her, I still had love for her. Why? Why could I not take a knife and cut it out of me, like a surgeon would cut out a growth. Perhaps it was because we had grown together, from the age of seventeen until now. Eleven years we had, thinking together, planning together and talking together, always talking. I knew Gill as I knew myself, and she knew me. That was why when I asked her if she had sex with Berryman, she told the truth. I would have known if she lied. I knew Gill. Lying would have been the ultimate disrespect, and she would not have done that. Perhaps that said something, that she still had some regard for me. I don't know, and that is the essence of my problem. I don't know what I did wrong, I don't know why she was intimate with this man, I don't know why she couldn't tell me what was wrong in our relationship. I don't know why she went straight to him. There was so much I didn't understand, about her actions, and equally about mine. But I still loved her, I cried.

I had recovered from the trauma of these events sufficiently to be able to work well. The evidence of that was an invitation to lunch with one of the partners. Alex Wellman had been in the States for some time, and understood their attitude towards advertising. He had brought this knowledge back to the UK and set up this agency, Wellman Goff and Co. Who the Goff was, no one knew. I arrived at the Penns Hall Hotel, where he was staying and where our lunch appointment was. I told reception I was there, and they paged him.

"Andy." He approached me with a smile and a hand outstretched to shake mine. "It's great to see you. Come on in, we'll have a drink before lunch."

"Thank you Mr. Wellman."

"Hey, none of that Mr. Wellman, call me Alex." We had drinks at the bar, and then went in for a superb lunch. Our talk was casual until we got to coffee.

"Andy, I know about your personal problem, but I hope that is behind you now." I acknowledged that it was. "Good. We like your work. Some of the copy you have come up with is sensational. Hits hard, but in a very subtle way. Fantastic. Now we want you to take the next step, and join us in London, working on national schemes. There's going to be a change coming in TV advertising, we are looking at making a series, that plugs the product, but draws the viewers in because there is a story being told. In effect we will be making a drama that will entertain as well as sell. So we will need the best dialogue, written by the best writer we have, and Andy, that's you. What do you think?" My mind was tumbling over the possibilities, an opportunity, a chance. Not because of the work, my thoughts were about getting away from Birmingham and the memories, starting afresh some where else. The job was secondary.

"I like the idea, Alex. Is this a firm offer?"

"Yes, Andy. We want you there. You get a great rise, London weighting allowance, and we will pay all your legal costs for the move. What do you say?"

"Sounds good. What salary am I looking at?" He got out a piece of paper, and wrote down a figure, then showed it to me. I was shocked for a moment it was a lot!

"Did you put the comma in the wrong place?" I asked cheekily. Alex laughed.

"That, Andy is exactly why we want you. That throwaway remark that asks a question, yet contains humour, and says in one second what others would need a minute for. Yes, the comma is in the right place. Do a good job for us, and I will move the comma the right way for you." He held out his hand. "Do we have a deal?" I took his hand and shook.

"Yes, Alex. You've got yourself a dramatist."

I put the house on the market, packed up everything I wanted to take and within a month I had moved down to London. The office was close to Fleet Street, Apt I thought, as contact with the press was important to the advertising industry. Some would say the two biggest fantasists in one place. Alex had arranged a hotel room for me, just off the Bayswater Road. The arrangement was that the company would pay for three months, after that I had to foot the bill. The house in Erdington sold quite quickly. I offered my dad the deposit he had made for us, but he indignantly refused. So I wrote a cheque for half the profit and sent it to Gill's through my solicitor. There was nothing in the settlement covering this, but it made me feel better, and it was a subtle way of reminding Gill, that I still had her in mind.




It's Gill with a 'G'



The next weekend I went looking for a home. Giving consideration to the housing market, which appeared to be gathering strength at that time, I wanted to buy in an area that was cool, but could possibly become hot in a few years. That meant East London. Not the environs of the City, or the inner city, but out in Essex, beyond the belt of social housing developed in the thirties. I found the place in Upminster. A three bedroom semi-detached property, looking a little bit worse for wear, and priced accordingly. Upminster was perfect for me as the District line Underground ran from there to Temple station just a few minutes walk to the office. The journey took about forty minutes. My salary got me the mortgage easily, and I was also given a bank loan to make the renovations to the house. I put in central heating, and had an extension over the garage, in effect turning it into a four bed roomed home.

London was a surprising place after Birmingham. The most obvious difference was that in Birmingham life stopped at ten-thirty at night. The buses stopped, except for the night service which ran mostly every hour. The cinemas turned out at ten-fifteen, presumable so their patrons could catch the last regular service bus home. The pubs called last orders at ten-thirty. There were no night clubs. 

'The Smoke' as London was usually called affectionately, sometimes disparagingly was completely different. Life didn't start until ten-thirty. Walk the streets at that time and they were almost as full as rush hour, but with people, and not all young people, enjoying themselves. It took me some time to get used to, but as I was working many odd hours I got to see the place at all hours of the clock. Once I was settled I started to go out a bit. Now for me the theatre, the Opera, and the Ballet were the draws. I did invite some rather beautiful young ladies to accompany me, finding sadly that there was little enjoyment being with someone who did not share your interests. They were usually budding actresses who found commercial work while waiting for their big break. Sitting in the Stalls at the Ballet, with a lady who was not a good enough actress to disguise her yawns of boredom, highlighted the tie I had had with Gill. We had often gone to Stratford on Avon to the memorial theatre. Gill and I would watch enthralled, and at the interval would be so full of what we had seen, that the bell warning of the second half would come before we had time to drink our coffee. After my evenings in London I would get home with sadness and regret for what I had lost. I no longer had my natural half to talk to.

My work went well. I was enjoying myself as I was creating something with these commercials instead of just thinking up snappy phrases to go with a five second slot. Three and then four years went by so quickly that I hardly realised that I was settling into the fabric of the agency, becoming one of the pillars that held the thing together. I was reminded of that when out of the blue I got a letter from a recruitment agency. They were actually head-hunters, and I had been targeted as the right person for a rival advertising agency. I went along to see what they had to say, and they laid the package out for me in writing. I asked Alex's secretary if I could see him the day after I had the offer. I had no intention of blackmailing him. My motives were honourable although later I realised that he didn't quite see it that way. I laid the correspondence out for him to read, so that he could see I had not instigated this. He read them carefully.

"OK, Andy. Are you giving me your notice?"

"No Alex. I just wanted you to know what is going on. I am happy here, I like the work I am doing. I wanted you to see this, as rumours seem to fly around this industry like wildfire. I wanted you to know that I did not seek this offer." I don't think he could believe what I had just done. I was showing honesty and loyalty, something I found out eventually, he gave little creed to.

"Andy, I can't match this offer. I would like you to stay with us, you are doing a great job here. So what I will do is give you a raise of seven and a half thousand if you will sign a contact with us for the next four years. You will still get bonuses, but as we will be paying you well over the rate for your position, I cannot justify any interim increases for that period. What do you say. Yes or No?" I held out my hand.

"Yes." Call it naïve of me to accept that deal, but even after four years here I was still making comparisons based upon Birmingham rates of pay. I thought I was well paid. I managed the mortgage easily, I was no longer going out enjoying the temptations of the metropolis, apart from the concerts. Which I now attended alone. Glamorous girls who had little interest in their escort, apart from the expensive restaurants he could take them to had worn thin with me. I was quite happy with Fish and Chips after a night at the Opera, or an inexpensive Chinese meal before listening to the London Philharmonic playing Beethoven. That suited me, apart from wishing the seat next to mine was occupied by Gill.

I did have sex, twice actually with a member of the opposite sex. Girls from the office, recommended to me as sure things. Well they were, but compared to Gill, they were like lumps of wood. Mostly I had sex with myself, using a number of interesting magazines I got from a newsagent not far from my office. He kept a few of the 'Soho' style literature. Far more explicit than the usual type of glamour magazine that could be found on the top shelf of most newsagents. Funnily enough he would actually give you a twenty-five percent credit if you brought them back in good condition. I would pick them up on my way home, making sure they were concealed within the pages of the 'Evening Standard' before leaving the shop. These I kept for emergencies, well concealed at home, against the visits my mum and dad made from time to time. Strange really. I lived alone yet still had the compulsion to hide them. My evenings with these magazines were evenings of contrast, exhilaration, followed by deep despair at what I had come to. Self-pleasure is self-defeating, the orgasm is called the climax, it isn't, the real climax is cuddling the warm body of the woman you love.

My raise gave me a sufficient excess of income over expenditure, so I bought a car. I had learned to drive when I was seventeen. Dad paid for my lessons, it was a kind of bribe to ensure that I carried on with my studies. One of the most attractive cars around at that time was the Ford Cortina, and the best of that range was the '1600E'. It had good trim, two tone paintwork, an engine with superior performance, and fat tyres. Just the thing for a single young man of means. I used it at the weekends, going off and seeing most of Essex and East Anglia. I would also go back to Birmingham to see my parents, the car was good on the motorway, and would comfortably do a hundred and five, although that wasn't recommended. There was no speed limit then, but there were too many drivers unused to long distances at relatively high speed, and in honesty I had to count myself amongst them.

Most people would suppose that I had a good life. Good well paid job, owning my own home, car, and relatively carefree. But I often asked the question of myself. What was I doing this for? For me? Or for some young lady that would walk into my life one day, for me to find the connection and love that I had with Gill. I longed for it and dreamed of it, but in reality I knew it wouldn't happen. Even after eight years had passed since our divorce, I couldn't get her out of my system. Any woman that I got involved with would inevitably be compared to Gill, and I knew that she would fall short. I hated myself for feeling this way. I hated her for making me feel this way. I told myself so often that it was gone, over, done with, forget her. Only to wake up next morning and know that she still held my heart as surely as she did on our wedding day. 

My four year contract had expired, and I looked forward to a call to Alex's office to renew the agreement. The days passed, then the weeks, and no word. I carried on with the work we were doing. We were setting up a commercial for a new chocolate bar. They had asked for the serial commercial to roll out over a six month period. Each commercial would have a fifteen second slot, and would be repeated for four weeks before the next in the series would be aired. It was challenging but really interesting as all the ideas came in for consideration. I was leading the artistic team on this, responsible for the dialogue. When the layout was finished, Alex approved it, then the customer approved it, so the studio, actors and bit part players were booked and the whole series of commercials made back to back in just ten days. The first commercial went out, and I noticed that there were little changes of dialogue that I hadn't written. They were only small departures, but they affected the impact. I assumed these changes had been asked for by the customer. After it had run for a month there were serious faces. It wasn't performing. After two months it was a disaster. The point of sale wasn't working. It was placed just by the checkout in Supermarkets, the supplier paid heavily for those spots, and the bar was not being picked up. After three months the rest of the campaign was cancelled. That was when I got the call to Alex's office.

There had to be a scapegoat, and I was it. I got three months salary in lieu of notice, cleared my desk, and was gone by eleven that morning. A lesson learned. Trust few.

Chapter four

I would be a pariah in advertising in London for quite some time. I thought long and hard. I had little choice, but return to Birmingham and try and pick up some free-lance work there. There was always an undercurrent of suspicion in Birmingham circles about London practices and ideas. Anyone who was infra-dig in London, couldn't be all bad according to Birmingham. Londoners called it jealousy, Brummies called it common sense or shrewd. The silver lining that came with the dark cloud was that phenomenon called a housing boom. Property within easy reach of London was in demand. I put my house on the market, and was inundated with offers. I accepted the first good offer and couldn't believe how much the value had rocketed. Then the agent came back and said he had another offer, which was ten thousand over and above the first. I said no, I had already accepted the first offer. He could not believe it. His idea was to milk it for all it was worth, promising me that within a week I would be offered at least another ten on that. Me? I was brought up to believe that a man's word was his bond. I refused all later offers and stayed with the first. I had to sleep at nights. Another lesson, integrity costs you money!

Even after settling the mortgage, I had capital of almost a hundred thousand. I moved back to Birmingham in early spring, staying with my parents and started looking for work. I roughed out a C.V. and took it to a typing agency, who typed it and photo-copied it, with twenty copies. The woman who ran the agency called me just as I was leaving.

"Mr. Gresham, do you think I could have a word?" I nodded and walked over to her. She invited me into her office. She offered me coffee and got to her reason for asking me to chat.

"Mr. Gresham, I couldn't help noticing your C.V. I have rarely seen one so succinct and inviting a positive response. I assume that your Honours degree from Cambridge would explain that." I thanked her for the compliment and waited for her to go on. "A lot of the work we do is for small companies. Usually just run of the mill typing, but some of them are getting small adverts set up to run in the local papers. These are small businesses, self-employed people, who don't have the knowledge or expertise to set out an advert and make it interesting enough to catch peoples attention." I knew exactly what she was saying. I had seen these little adverts in papers, and could see at a glance that few of them had any chance of success. I said this as I agreed with her, but as she hadn't introduced herself I had no name.

"Oh I am sorry. I am Mrs. Holden. Ruth Holden." She was embarrassed at her slip. "I wondered, Mr Gresham, if you would be prepared to run your eye over some of these adverts as we get them and, shall we say, put a polish on them."

"I could do that. But as you see I am looking for work in the Advertising industry, and I doubt that I would have time for that."

"Yes of course." She replied. "I do understand. But I would be willing to pay you. I could offer my clients a service at a little extra cost. I am sure that most of them would be happy, if their adverts had that professional shine to them." 

"Let me think about it, Mrs. Holden. I'll get back to you shortly and let you know."

I spent the rest of the day, mailing out my C.V. to the agencies I knew of, those who had no connection with Wellman Goff. I gave Mrs. Holden's offer some thought and rejected the idea. What she wanted was a greater income from her typing jobs with no additional cost. I on the other hand could probably do the work very quickly, but I was sure that Mrs. Holden wouldn't be wanting to pay me professional rates. 

Dad asked me if I would like to walk down to the 'Horse and Jockey' that evening for a pint. I was happy with that, and after dinner, we took a leisurely stroll over the hill and down to the road junction where the pub was. I had a moments quiet as we got to the junction, as the bus stop where I had first seen Gill was just fifty yards along the main road. Memories crowded back into my mind.

At first I thought dad had an ulterior motive for suggesting this, but no. All he wanted was a quiet convivial drink. That is what we had until suddenly a hand clapped on my shoulder.

"Andy? What the hell are you doing here. We all thought that you were off in London living the life." It was Barry Mason, one of the crowd that I knew when Gill and I socialised.

"Barry! Good to see you. What are you doing with yourself these days?" Dad interrupted to tell me he was going to go and chat with a friend, explaining.

"Roger took a fiver off me at Golf last week. I need to set up a return and get it back. Won't be long." I turned back to Barry and we did the catch up bit. Along the way he expressed surprise at the divorce.

"None of us could understand that, Andy. You and Gill were so right for each other."

"That's what I thought. But Gill found this bloke and went to be with him. End of story." Barry was shaking his head.

"From what I have heard, she isn't living with anyone."

"She must be."

"No, Andy. I am certain of that. From what Becky said she has never lived with anyone since you and she parted." This was astonishing. Her boss at the revenue offices had confirmed that she was there with Berryman. She had replied to all letters from my solicitor from his address. She didn't get her own solicitor, seemingly accepting her guilt and similarly accepting her fate. I still had copies of the correspondence. Becky was Barry's wife, and although she didn't work for the revenue, did work for an accountant, and had frequent contact with Gill and her co workers. I decided not to pursue this further, but I also determined that on Saturday afternoon I would go and find out for myself. Perhaps I could finally kill this ache inside me.

I drove over to Stechford on that Saturday afternoon about two-thirty. I found the address and was immediately dismayed. This was a Victorian house, converted into flats. The paint peeled from the woodwork, the front garden was full of overflowing dustbins, with only little tufts of grass braving the hazards of the rubbish. The glass in the windows was dirty and smeared. Gill was living here? The only saving grace was the buzzer system for the four flats. I pressed number three. There was no response, so I pressed again. Suddenly there was a click from the speaker box and a disembodied voice asked.

"Who do you want?"

"I was calling flat three, looking for Gill."

"Oh, Gill Gresham. She's not in. I saw her go out about an hour ago. She is probably shopping. Shouldn't be long." Click! The woman cut off. I went back to the car, undecided whether to wait or not. "Give it half an hour." I told myself. Then it struck me. She was still using my name! Now there was no reason for a divorced woman to go back to her maiden name, but I had convinced myself that Gill would be Mrs. Berryman by this time. The thoughts tumbled through my mind. I waited half an hour then decided to wait another half an hour, there was a dilemma here and if I could, I wanted some explanation.

Ten minutes later I saw her a long way down the road. Too far away for recognition, but my senses knew it was her. She was holding the hand of a young child! As she got closer I saw her attitude, one of weariness, melancholy, sadness and defeat. My heart went out to her. I hadn't got out of the car yet, but she looked up and fixed on the car as if she knew there was something there for her attention. She drew close, keeping her gaze on the car. I got out. She looked shocked at first then gave me a wan smile.

"Hello, Andy."

"Gill. How are you?"

"How do I look?" I shook my head from side to side. There was no need for an answer, she understood exactly how she looked.

"Why are you here? Have you come to gloat?"

"No Gill. You should know me better than that." Her bitterness had overcome her natural disposition.

"Yes. I do. I'm sorry for saying that. Understanding and compassion were instinctive to you." The child, it was a little girl, I assumed to be Berryman's daughter watched this exchange with a serious expression. Gill bent down to her.

"Anita. This is Andy, he was..." She stopped and started again. "He was a friend of mine, years ago." Anita smiled.

"Hello Mr. Andy."

"Hello, Anita. And how old are you?" What else do you say to a child? Their age is very important to them.

"I am eight. I will be nine in September." Gill interrupted before Anita could say anymore.

"Well, as you have come all this way, would you like a cup of tea?"

"That would be nice. And it's not far from Sutton to Stechford."

Anita lead the way up the stairs. Gill following and me bringing up the rear. I had taken one of the shopping bags from Gill as we went in the front door, and she turned and for a moment I saw a flash of emotion. Her flat was on the first floor. It was a complete contrast to the rest of the building. It was clean, painted brightly if inexpertly, and lacked that old house smell that pervaded the common areas. Gill disappeared into a kitchen and I could hear the rattle as she filled the kettle. Anita took off her coat and took it past the kitchen into what I assumed would be her bedroom. She was Gill's daughter for certain. Gill always hung up her coat immediately. The times she scolded me for just leaving my coat anywhere.

Gill came back and gestured for me to sit. She sat in a wing chair, covered by a bright throw.

"Well, Andy. You can see where I am, and what state I am in. I know you better than to think you are happy about this, but why are you here?"

"Gill. I have lived with so many unanswered questions for these last years. I wanted to see you to try and put paid to the hurt and see if I can put my life back together." Gill looked sad.

"Yes. I did hurt you, and in doing so hurt myself. I'm sorry, Andy." Her face brightened a little. "I thought you were doing so well. You went off to London, and from what I heard have a great job. You didn't come all this way back to just see me?"

"No, Gill. I did have a great job. I got sacked!" The surprise on her face was evident.

"Sacked?"

"Yes. A campaign went badly wrong, and I, it would seem, was the reason." She looked doubtful.




It's Gill with a 'G'



"No, Andy. I watch a lot of television, it's all I have for entertainment, and I have seen the commercials. I was always able to tell the ones you had been involved with. There was something about the dialogue that set them apart. Crisp and pithy. I knew your writing from before we..." She tailed off then recovered. "From when you were working in Birmingham with AGH. Your style is quite distinctive."

"Well whatever. I was out of a job. So I'm back in Brum." The kettle started whistling, so she got up to make the tea. When she came back she had a different air about her, stronger and more determined. She gave me my cup and went back to her chair.

"I ought to thank you for that cheque." She looked up at me. "I was bloody angry at first. It was you letting me know that I had walked away from a good man. I thought that you wanted to twist the knife, and would have returned it, but to be honest, I needed the money. Later when I thought about it I knew that it was just you being as fair as you could. So thank you, Andy, that was a nice gesture."

"Bloody angry?" That doesn't sound like the Gill I knew." She smiled for the first time.

"Life has a way of changing your views, and your vocabulary. Sometimes swearing is the only way to get through the day." I decided to ask a question, without asking what I really wanted to know.

"I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable, so I'll drink my tea and leave before Berryman gets back. What time do you expect him?" She laughed, a short cynical dismissive laugh. She looked at her watch.

"Well he left at eleven o' clock, and hasn't been back for eight years, so I am not really expecting him any time soon, or between now and when Hell freezes over. He left as soon as he found out I was pregnant. I gave up the nicest man I had ever known to go with a Shit!" I could see tears starting in her eyes. I felt sorry for her but I had the answers I wanted.

Anita came in at that point.

"Mummy. It's getting cold in my room, can I put the fire on?"

"Put another jumper on for a while, sweetheart. I'll put the fire on later." Anita ran off to do as she was told.

"Nice child." I said. "Polite, but I wouldn't expect anything else from a daughter of yours." I had learned from that exchange that her finances were not good. "Are you still with the Revenue."

"Yes. It's only the Civil Service that would put up with my flexible working hours." The tears did start then. "Andy, you've found out what you came to find. Please go. All the while you are here you remind me of another life, a good life, that I deliberately walked away from. I can't have that back, so please don't tantalise me with these visions." I got up, finished my tea and was about to leave when I turned back to her, crossed the room and knelt down taking her hands in mine.

"Gill. I can help, if you would let me. Forget the hurt I still worry about you." Why did I say that? It was not my intention, but the words just came out of my instinct, the truth. The tears ran easily down her face.

"No! You can't. And I don't need your help. Go."

"Ok. I will leave. But Gill, I told you to go once, I was wrong. We should have talked. You have just told me to go, and now it's you who is wrong. This time I won't give up so easily. I closed the door behind me.

I was unlocking the car door and looked up. Gill was there in the window. I raised my hand as a gesture of good bye, and she gave a little wave in return. I drove off feeling happier than I had in years.

Chapter five

I phoned Mrs. Holden and told her that I could do some of this work for her, then told her how much an hour I would ask. There was a gasp over the connection.

"As much as that?"

"Mrs. Holden. I spent three years at Cambridge getting my degree, and since then I have been in advertising for fourteen years. Your customers will get adverts that will work, instead of throwing money away on column inches that don't have a chance. What is better value for money? I could probably re-word six or seven adverts in an hour, split that between your customers and it will little enough to pay for a professional job." She said she would think about it and get back to me. If she had seven customers that wanted my help that would be good, if it was only one, then she would have to make her own decision, either swallow the cost or charge it all on to the one customer. Either way I wasn't bothered. The treatment handed out to me by Alex Wellman had been a lesson. You want my expertise? You pay for it.

I was getting uncomfortable living with mum and dad again. I really needed to get out and start looking for my own place. Initially when I came back I thought a good flat would do me, but since seeing and talking to Gill, I was ambivalent. Would a flat do, or may I really need a house? Possibly I was running here when a slow steady walk would be better. But I couldn't help my emotions, and they told me that despite what happened I wanted Gill in my life again. In one way our meeting had been unsuccessful. I had looked to finding closure. Now I understood that I wouldn't get it, the wound to my heart had been opened again, and only Gill could heal that lesion.

I got a couple of calls inviting me to have a chat from two of the agencies I had sent my C.V. to. They were illuminating. As I suspected what goes in London was very different to the style of treatment in Birmingham. I was talking to John Ferguson at Melling Services. The second of the responses. He knew of Alex Wellman and his ethics.

"The man has no honour at all. You are not the only one he shafted. I will wager that your script will re-appear almost word for word in another advert. The man's a Hyena." With his vitriol out of the way he went on to see if I could fit in. I went through some of the campaigns I had worked on, and showed him copies of the slogans and scripts. He had seen quite a few of them, and got more and more interested.

"Andy, we have never gone after national campaigns before. But with you on board we will have the talent to offer really good schemes. I can't say welcome aboard right now. I need to know that our Principles will be willing to fund these sort of campaigns. Let me get back to you. No more than two days, I promise, and don't accept any offers until we have spoken. I can't promise you the package you had in London, but it will be the best around here, that I can say."

I was pleased, I had got the ball rolling, and was confident now that my dismissal was not going to be a problem.

The next Saturday I was back waiting outside Gill's flat for when she got back from shopping. She didn't give me exactly a heartfelt welcome.

"Andy. I told you not to come again. It's painful to see you and be reminded of everything in our past." I ignored Gill, and instead presented Anita with a Doll I had bought. Doesn't every eight year old girl like dolls? Possibly not today, but back then the answer was yes, and I suspected that there had not been too many presents in Anita's short life. Anita took the Doll happily, remembering to thank me properly. Then announced that the Doll's name was Looby Lou. I looked bewildered until Gill explained, there was a programme on television with a character called Looby Lou. It was a less irritated Gill that invited me in for tea.

"Why did you call again, Andy? Is it just to hurt me? I know I hurt you, cannot you just forgive me or hate me and get on with your life?"

"No, Gill. I cannot." I replied. "Ever since I was seventeen, you were in my life. You supported me, encouraged me, made me laugh and laughed with me. We shared our interests, even the fantasies about people in the park when we had no money to do anything else. Not having money didn't matter, because we had each other. Gill! You became so much a part of my life that it was automatic for me to think 'us' not 'me'. Over the last eight years in London, I have been to Covent Garden to see the Opera, and the Ballet. Watched Shakespeare at the Old Vic. I have been in the audience at the Royal Albert Hall for the proms, and I was even at the last night on one occasion. And I enjoyed the music, the singing and the dance. But never completely, because the seat next to mine was reserved in my heart for just one person Gill, You. When I came to see you last week I wanted to find that my love was gone, and buried. It wasn't, even after all this time it's still there, and I believe that your love is still there. Possibly just a dimly flickering ember, but I want to try and blow it into life again. Thank you for the tea. I will call again next week. If you tell me to go then, I will and that will be that. But if you want to try being friends again as we were, if you want to see if the little flickering flame can be coaxed back to a fire, tell me and we'll see what we can do." I thought that Gill would throw a fit, but she smiled.

"Well, well. Andy Gresham is being forceful."

"Yeah. I press the button to open bus doors quite a lot now." Gill giggled.

"Oh God. Do you remember that."

"Of course I do. The doors opened on the best years of my life. Gill with a 'G'." I walked to the door. "I shall be here next week." She nodded, than walked over and asked.

"Will you kiss me?" I made no reply, simply bent my head and pressed my lips against hers. The jolt shook me. Gill accepted the kiss then just looked at me, with questions in her eyes I couldn't answer because she was asking questions of herself. Whatever answers she found I couldn't know. I wondered if she knew either.

"Next week." I said.

"Next week." She repeated.

I had a job by Tuesday evening. They made me a fair offer. As John Ferguson had said it didn't match what I got in London, but it was probably as good as they could go. I hadn't heard from Mrs. Holden But that didn't matter. If she wanted work done it was something that I could handle in an hour or so in the evening. Dad invited me for a drink down at the 'Horse and Jockey' again. I had the feeling that this time he was going to be questioning me. He was. Within two seconds of our taking our first pint, he asked me what was going on.

"Andy. You have been to see Gill. What is it about?" He was my dad and he deserved the truth.

"To be honest, Dad, I went with an idea that I could lay the ghost. Gill had meant so much to me, and even after the divorce I still had lots of feelings for her. However, having seen her I realise that whatever happened, I am still in love with her, and would like to try and find some sort of life with her." He nodded slowly, and took another pull at his pint before answering.

"Son, I know you have a true heart, and I always thought that Gill was perfect for you. If that is how you feel, try hard to get her back. This life is a lot easier with the right woman by your side, rather than the woman who will just do." It was good to know that someone could see the future without all the cloud to complicate matters.

"What do you think mum will say. She was pretty adamant about my divorcing Gill."

"I'll tell you something, but it goes no further. Promise me."

"Yes, of course."

"When I was in the army in Korea, your mum had a little fling with another bloke. I am sure that it didn't go as far as Gill went, but nonetheless it caused us a lot of trouble at the time. Your mum was so angry with herself, more than I was actually. You see, she was the woman I wanted, needed, in my life, not the woman who would just do. I think the realisation that I may have walked away is what made her so inflexible about what Gill did. It's like the reformed smoker becoming the most virulent opponent of smoking by others. I am willing to bet that Gill is so angry at herself right now in the same way. Son, it is that anger that will be your problem." 

The more that I thought about dad's words the more prophetic they seemed to be. I sensed that anger in Gill. Perhaps it wouldn't be as easy as I thought.

Next Saturday I was there at Gill's. I took a new tack. Instead of going in to chat over tea, I asked Anita, if she would like to go to MacDonalds instead. Gill would have protested, but Anita's eagerness for the treat drowned her out. We got in the car, Gill in front and Anita in the back seat, and we went to Solihull, the nearest MacDonalds to Stechford. Gill looked across at me, and said sotto voce.

"Sneaky.". I grinned, and she smiled.

There was little talk about us. Anita was so full of being at the place she had seen on television. Well it wasn't the actual place, because the adverts were shot in the States, but the layout was similar enough to convince her that this was the one. With a mouth full of Big Mac, and a carton of diet Pepsi, nothing could spoil Anita's happiness that day. I had a Big Mac too, but couldn't eat it all as I had one of mum's sandwiches for lunch. Gill had only ordered coffee, so she took my Big Mac and nibbled at it. Suddenly memories made her sad, we had often shared food together.

We got Anita back to the flat, and she immediately went into her room to watch the television. She did thank me very politely without being prompted for taking her out. Yes, Anita thought I was taking her out, her mum was just an afterthought.

"Andy. I don't know what to say about our talk last week. Well your talk. I said very little. There's part of me that would love to get back where we were, but there is also a part of me that says that the hurt I caused is too big to ever get over. I don't know. I don't want to start down this road, if at the end we get nowhere. All the hurt and recrimination starts all over again." I had borne dad's words in mind, so I startled Gill when I said.

"So you don't believe that you can forgive yourself?" She did look shocked.

"Andy, I would have thought it was for you to forgive me." 

"Apart from that day, when I found out. Have you ever heard me say anything to suggest I had not done that. If I hadn't forgiven you, would I be here?" Gill thought, turning over our conversations in her mind.

"No. I don't suppose you would."

"Have I ever given you the impression that I don't have feelings for you?"

"No."

"Right. So The problem is you, not forgiving yourself." Gill had to think about that. I could see the understanding coming to her face.

"You are right. I don't forgive myself. I hate what I did. I hate what I did to you. I was so confused at the time. There had only ever been you, you know that. Then John was working with me, and he was friendly. He made the days go past so quickly, and you know how much I hated that job. We laughed and joked, it was fun to be with him. It started to become a pleasure to go to work. Then at the Christmas party I let my hair down a bit, a glass or two more wine than I usually drink, a dance or two more than I should have with John, then he just took me to an office, and told me he was going to make love to me." Gill was crying now. "He just told me as if I didn't have any say in it. And I didn't. I couldn't stop him, I didn't try, Andy. I didn't try." She sobbed bitterly. I went over and put my arms round her shoulder. She shrugged me away.

"Don't. I don't deserve to be comforted. I gave what I had promised to you, and only you, to a lying, cheating sleazebag."

Anita came back into the room at that point.

"Mr. Andy, why are you making mummy cry?" Gill quickly answered her.

"No, darling. Andy isn't making me cry. I just remembered something that made me upset." Anita seem mollified with that answer.

"Well don't cry mummy, you have me." She promptly disappeared back to the television in her room. The incongruity of her assertion and the speed with which she went made me laugh, and soon after Gill smiled again.

"Kids." She said. "If all's well with their world they don't worry about anyone else."

"They learn as they grow." That was my offering to the topic. I decided that it was the point when I should leave. No good would come from pressing Gill further. However I had learned something. A little more about Mr. Berryman, and also that Gill had in all possibility been drunk. The state she was in when she came home was proof of that.

"Gill, I will be back next Saturday. I will come earlier, and we will all go out together to Cannon Hill Park. The band should be playing." Gill accepted that, probably more for Anita than herself.

"Anita will enjoy that." She paused. "You're not going to give up, are you?" It wasn't a question, it was a resigned statement.

"No. I'm not." She shook her head.

"You're mad." I grinned.

"Yes. Mad, stupid, illogical and completely round the bend. I need a good woman to help me find my sanity." I bent my head towards her and kissed her. This time her hand came up and caressed my cheek.

The next Saturday, Gill and Anita were ready when I arrived. Anita was chatting happily as she got in the back seat, telling me all about her school and her friends. What she was doing in classes, and then seamlessly moving on to her favourite television programmes. She only stopped talking when something interesting caught her attention out of the window. Gill leaned across to say.

"She has been telling everyone that Mr. Andy is taking her out on Saturday. I would appear to be coming along simply as chaperone." I laughed.

I parked up at Cannon Hill Park. It was opposite Edgbaston Cricket ground, and judging by the number of cars parked there was a match on. We strolled into the park. It was a bit of a showpiece really, well laid out, with paved walks that took you through woodland, and alongside the River Rea. We strolled the paths, with Anita skipping happily, sometimes holding Gill's hand then occasionally holding mine. Gill and I fell quite easily in the old habits of when we were first together. Talking easily about all sorts of things and then people watching, making up the fantasy stories as we had years ago. We had to stop that though when Anita demanded to know how we knew these people we talked about. It was difficult to explain to an eight year old that we were making those stories up. Some time later we heard the strains of music carried over the gentle breeze, telling us that the Band had arrived and was starting to play. We walked quickly towards the Bandstand to get a good position. We found an ideal spot, and as the ground was dry, Gill sank gracefully to the grass in that elegant way that Women do. Her legs folded back to one side, with her skirt spread about her. I slumped down next to her, and Anita insisted on sitting between us. I have always been a fan of just about all music, although I have to say I draw the line at pure Jazz. Nothing against the aficionados, just not to my taste. This band played well, lots of Military marches, and quite a few Brass Band classics. Towards the end of their performance they played the 'Helston Floral Dance' All around us you could hear people singing along with off the cuff versions of the words. We did as well, and as I looked over at Gill her face was lit up as she sang along, holding Anita's hand conducting the band. She seemed to feel my gaze, and looked across, there was a happiness in her eyes that hadn't been there over the last few weeks. A shine I suspect had not been there for years.

Chapter six

I was working again, taking up the new challenge with Melling Services. I got on well with John Ferguson, and we were soon looking at better, more prestigious campaigns with national companies. The icing on the cake was when we were approached by the manufacturer of the chocolate bar that foundered. Their Marketing Director, Brian Forster was a little wary, when he realised that I was involved, and tackled me straight away.

"Why did you change that script." He demanded. "It was damn good, and then you changed it when it was too late to do anything about it."

"I didn't." 

"What?" 

"I didn't change the script. I assumed that you the client had asked for the last minute changes."




It's Gill with a 'G'



"No. We didn't." He thought for a moment. I wasn't going to say anything, as now I realised who had changed the script. Why did Wellman do that? I had my ideas but now was not the time to air them.. I think that Brian had come to the same conclusion, but would have no knowledge of the undercurrents that inspired the changes. Water under the bridge, possibly but it goes to illustrate the cutthroat business we were in.

I had to put some ideas together for Brian, and obviously I couldn't use the copy I had come up with before, even with the changes it would be seen as spoilt goods. It took me about a week of bashing the vocabulary hard, but I was able to put some submissions forward for consideration.

My cousin Jean came to see mum and dad that week. She was much older than me, in her fifties, and was jokingly referred to as the family genealogist. She had been up in her attic at the house she inherited from her parents, and had found an old suitcase full of photos. She had brought the relevant ones with her, and we had a happy evening passing them around. Yes there were the usual embarrassing ones of various members of the family, including me. Then she produced one of my mother. Mum tried hard not to let anyone see it.

"No, give it here. You can't show that to anyone." Dad, Jean and I were laughing. Dad took it first, and told mum he could see how she grew up to be a lovely woman. Then mum looked at it, and of course immediately complained that the photographer had not taken it from the best angle. Then it came to me and I went cold. Mum was eleven in this photo, and it was taken fifty years ago. But the girl that mum was then was the spitting image of Anita. Coincidence? Hardly. Anita had to be my daughter.

I got up, apologising to Jean. 

"I have to go and see someone." I don't know if they noticed that I had taken the photo with me. I arrived at Gill's flat not too late in the evening, so I was sure that she wouldn't have gone to bed. I buzzed her flat. After a few minutes her voice asked who it was. There was trepidation in her voice.

"Gill, it's me, Andy."

"Andy? what are you doing here at this time?"

"There is something important I need to discuss. Can I come up, please?"

"Can't it wait till Saturday?"

"No. Gill let me in. I have to speak to you now." The buzzer sounded and I pushed the door open and went up the stairs. Gill had opened her door and peered round it to make sure it was me before opening it completely.

"Do you want some tea, or is this the kind of conversation that will need something stronger?"

"Tea will be fine." She went through to the kitchen and I followed her.

"Anita says that she had a very nice day at Cannon Hill Park, and if Mr. Andy is happy about it, Alton Towers would be nice too."

"I am sure that could be arranged." I replied. She turned from pouring the tea.

"You really don't need to go to that sort of trouble."

"Why not? Any father would do that for his daughter." The tea making stopped dead. Gill stood there silent and immobile for a second or two. Without looking up she said softly.

"You guessed then."

"Not exactly. Let's say I got a big hint when I saw this photo." I handed her the photo of my mum. Gill took it and her eyes opened wide. "That was taken when mum was eleven. It's quite a coincidence isn't it? Too much of a coincidence really. Makes you jump to a conclusion." Gill finished making the tea in silence, handed me a mug and we went through into the living room. She was obviously not going to say anything so I went on. "When were you going to tell me. Gill? Why didn't you let me know. You could have, you know, through the solicitor if you couldn't bring yourself to speak to me. I would have supported her, even if you didn't want me back in your life." I was crying now, tears rolling down my cheeks. "I have a daughter, eight years old, I would have loved to hold her as a baby, but you denied me that. I would have wanted to be there for her as she grew up, took her first steps, said mama and dada for the first time, but you denied me that as well. Why Gill, why?" Gill looked up with terrible guilt straining her face and posture, saw my tears and came quickly over and threw her arms round me, adding her tears to mine. My arms crept around her. It took some time for both of us to regain our composure. I got my handkerchief out, thankfully it was clean, and dried her tears. She then took it from me and dried mine. She sat on the settee next to me, blew her nose, and took a deep breath.

"I couldn't tell you Andy. If I did it would look like I was trying to blackmail you into allowing me back. I did want to come back but I had hurt you enough, I couldn't hurt you any more. I didn't want to live my life knowing I was there on sufferance and every day seeing you hating me. I had sinned, against you and against God's commandment. I had to accept my punishment."

"Gill. That was not your decision to make."

"Possibly. But in the state I was in at the time I doubt that I was thinking logically. Later? Well it was too late to do anything. It came back to haunt me these last few weeks. Seeing you with Anita, how well you treated her, not as the bastard daughter of a man you have every right to loathe. I saw that and felt so guilty. Here was a Man. Big enough to show compassion to a child who was innocent of her mother's guilt. I nearly told you. But again it would seem as if I was forcing you to take me back."

"You're not forcing me. I want you back. I love you Gill. I never stopped loving you. I want you back in the place where you should be, at my side." Gill was quiet, yet there was hope in her attitude, hope mixed with doubt.

"You can't mean that."

"Can't I? Gill I came to see you all those weeks ago, to try and put you behind me, because you had haunted me all these years. But you are not a ghost. Not now. You are the woman, the only woman I have ever loved, and I know I will never find love like this again." This brought a fresh outburst of tears. Through her sobs she wailed plaintively.

"But can you forget what I did?"

"No, Gill. But neither will you. You have explained what happened, and I can understand that, it still hurts when I think about it, but given the choice of having you in my life or allowing that to spoil our lives, I have to say I choose you. I know now that you and I are one, we were always meant to be. I love you." I had something else to say, something that was only half-formed in my mind. "Gill, in many ways we were so naïve. You and I, were brought up to understand the concepts of integrity, truth and loyalty. We lived those concepts and were not aware that others did not. We have both learned now that people are not always what they purport to be, Berryman took advantage of you when you were drunk, and Alex Wellman shafted me, because he thought I had blackmailed him into giving me a rise. That is why if forgiving is necessary, I forgive, as long as you forgive. Forgetting? No we will not forget, and we shouldn't, as it will keep us on guard for the next unscrupulous bastard that comes along." 

"I always loved you, Andy. I tried, because I had messed up, I tried to stop loving you, but I couldn't. Then Anita came along, and I found an outlet for all that love." She turned and threw herself into my arms. "Andy, this isn't some game you are playing? You are not going to dump me when you have had your revenge? Do you really mean it?"

"With my body, I thee worship. I can't remember the rest of it, oh yes the bit about with all my worldly goods, Men will remember that bit, but I am sure we can do it all again. No my darling Gill, I am not playing. I love you and I want you to be my wife again." There was this face in front of me. It was red-eyed, blotchy, wet from tears yet carrying the biggest smile I had ever seen apart from one, that was the day we married.

"If that was a proposal, then the answer is yes." She paused and a soft look of love came into her eyes. "Will you stay tonight?"

"No Gill. We aren't married."

"We could stretch a point. In the eyes of some prelates we are. They don't recognise divorce. And I do want to feel your arms around me once more. I have sinned once, but I am sure God will forgive this sin, and it will only be a little sin."

"You are tempting me, I really want to stay, but a cousin of mine has visited, it was she who had the photo, and it would be discourteous if I don't get back." Gill nodded.

"Will you come on Saturday then? I will cook us a meal, and will you stay then. It's not about sex, Andy. I just want to be in your arms, in bed and be loved again."

"Of course I will. And on Sunday we can all go looking for a home, a home for us." A sudden thought struck me. "Does Anita know?"

"No. It may be that we should let it come to her gradually. At eight years old she may have difficulty understanding the horrible things that adults do to each other." She looked happy, her eyes were bright. "Are you sure about a home? I can't help at all."

"Yes you can. When we get our home, just make sure you are there, because without you it will just be a house." I had to leave or I would be in serious trouble with my mum. Gill clung to me and offered her mouth, her lips open for a kiss of love. That was it. I would apologise in the morning to mum, dad and Jean. I couldn't leave Gill now.

"Can I use your phone?" 

"Yes." I called Dad and told him that something very important had happened and I would be home in the morning to explain.

"Ok, son. I'll pacify your mum." Gill had listened to my call, with increasing joy. I put the phone down and she took my hand.

"Come to bed, Andy. I need you to hold me, and love me." 

Coming to bed was a little more difficult than going to Gill's bedroom. There was only one of those, and Anita slept there. Gill threw the cushions off the settee, and pulled the seat up and towards her. It became a three quarter bed. The addition of pillows and a duvet from the cupboard and it was ready. Gill stood to one side and I to the other. This was no seduction, we both were aware of how important this was. Gill started taking off her clothes, as I did also. She was naked first and slipped into bed, her eyes beseeching me to join her as quickly as possible. Finally I was naked, and she flipped the duvet back and held her arms up.

"Please, Andy." I lay beside her and took her in my arms, flesh clinging to flesh. She shook and gasped, The sensation, so long denied of our bodies together overwhelming us both. Her mouth sought mine and we joined in a kiss. Tongues chased tongues, lips clung and slipped and clung again, legs entwined and hands greedily tasted the body that was so familiar and yet so strange, there was no beginning of me and no end of her, we were us, indivisible. We didn't have intercourse. Anita was sleeping in the next room, and the possibility of her walking in at any moment precluded that. But we connected in a way that gave us great pleasure and warmth.

The light came slowly at six the next morning. Gill was still asleep, clasped to my body in the same way when we had loved each other last night. My stirring woke her, and her first thought was to tighten her arms, drawing the bond closer still. I kissed her brow, that was insufficient for Gill, she raised her mouth asking for mine. I kissed her. Her mouth was redolent of her last meal, as mine would have been, but that could not stop our exchanging tongues and saliva. She drew back and regarded me seriously.

"No regrets?" She asked.

"None." I assured her. "I love you Gill, with my heart, mind and body." She smiled.

"I love you Andy, I knew it when I asked you to kiss me the other week, the feeling that went through me was astounding. I have loved you since you pressed that button, and came and sat beside me. I lost my way, but you came and found me, and are taking me down the right path. You are my man, my protector, my strength, my lover, and my best friend. I don't really deserve you, but you are here and I will fight to keep you here whatever it takes."

"A Gold ring on this finger." I lifted her left hand and found the third finger. "Is all it will take, and I shall make certain that that it is there as soon as possible." We were interrupted by Anita, who had come into the room unnoticed.

"Mummy! Why are you in bed with Mr. Andy." Gill smiled and sat up. "Mummy! You aren't wearing any clothes."

"No, darling. Andy and I love each other, and we are going to get married. When you love someone you don't have to wear clothes when you go to bed. It's nicer that way." Anita gave little thought to the other ramifications of this. Mummy was happy, so she was happy. Anita looked at me. I decided to stay where I was, I didn't want to shock Anita even more.

"Mr. Andy. Does that mean you are going to be my daddy?" I nodded.

"Yes, Anita, if you would like that." She giggled.

"Yes. I would like that. Does this mean we can go to Alton Towers?" Gill laughed. The important things in a child's life are very self-centred.

"Yes, Anita." I replied, trying to keep the smile off my face. "But there are rides there that little girls cannot go on, they are too dangerous. You must promise not to get upset if mummy or I say no."

"Yes Mr. Andy. I will be good." she ran off, telling herself aloud, "I'm going to have a daddy, a real daddy." Immediately the television was turned on in her room. Life is so simple for a child.

Gill suggested that I got up and dress now. 

"I liked seeing you walking around naked, but I suspect it may be a shock to Anita." I grinned.

"Yes. I suppose that a naked man could be frightening to an eight year old girl."

"But not to her mother, though." Gill quipped. "You get me all squishy." She leaned in for a kiss.

"Thank you Andy. Thank you for not giving up with me."

"I had no choice. Without you, life was empty."

Chapter seven

There was an angry mother waiting for me when I got home. It doesn't matter how old a child is, an angry mother is a force to be reckoned with. 

"Where were you? You just ran out, then phoned to say you wouldn't be back. What was so important that you couldn't show some courtesy to your cousin, not to mention your dad and I. I felt humiliated." I told the truth.

"I was with Gill." Mum's face was a picture.

"Oh no, Andrew. You're not getting together with her again?" That was a question, phrased as an instruction, or perhaps an instruction phrased as a question.

"Yes. Mum. We are getting married again."

"I would have thought you had learned your lesson by now. Have you forgotten what she did?"

"No mum, I haven't. But I have never been able to put her out of my mind. I called to see her a few weeks ago, and I realised that I still loved her, and she still loves me."

"Huh! She will say anything to get you back."

"No mum. She didn't want to talk to me at first. It was me who pushed this."

"Then you're a fool."

"Ok. I am a fool. I thought though that you would want to meet your granddaughter?" Dad came in the room at this point.

"Granddaughter? Did you say granddaughter."

"Yes dad. I have a daughter, and she's eight years old." Mum was cynical still.

"Oh she's clever. First of all she convinces you to take her back, then she palms off her bastard child on you. The bitch!" I got the photo out.

"Yes, Gill has a daughter. I thought it was his at first, but when I saw this photo, mum. I knew that Anita was mine. When you see her you will know without a shadow of doubt." Dad took the photo from me.

"I wondered where that had gone. So when are we going to see Gill and this girl, Anita did you say?"

"When you and mum decide that you can meet her without recrimination." Dad nodded.

"Fair enough." He turned to mum. " Aggie! You and I are going to have a talk. If this is Andrew's choice, so be it. If we have a granddaughter then I don't want your attitude splitting our family."

I had phoned into work telling them I wouldn't be in today, so after a wash and shave, I dressed and went back to see Gill. She had called in sick first thing, after taking Anita to school.

Two hours after leaving, I was back at Gill's flat. We had agreed that I would come back, and the unspoken part of the agreement was that we would go to bed and make love. She had made an attempt to dress as well as she could, but I recognised the dress as one she had bought eighteen months before we split. Were things that bad for her that she couldn't afford a new dress?

"I always liked that dress. You look lovely." I told her as I took her in my arms. 

"I'm glad, but I hope I will not be wearing it that much longer. Andy! I want to spend the day in bed with you. Making love and talking as we used to. It is important to me that we find that sort of relationship again." I kissed her then started to unbutton the dress. She smiled.

"Can I help you as well." She caressed the lump that had already started in my trousers.

"I think you have already helped. But you will have to help some more to make it go down." By this time my sweatshirt was over my head, and Gill was unfastening my belt, I had finished unbuttoning her dress, and it fell off her shoulders. She hadn't bothered with underwear. My trousers dropped and Gill pushed down my underpants, freeing my penis. The bed had been made after last night, but not folded back into a settee. We dropped on it, clasping tight to each other's now naked body. Later we would have the refinements, now, I was eager to love Gill and she was eager for that too.

"I'm wet, Andy, so wet. Have me now, please now." She opened her legs and I slid back into the haven of love. Afterwards we lay there basking in the afterglow, breathing hard, sweating and so, so happy.

"Andy, welcome home." I nodded. It was home, that lovely part of her body that she gave and I took. "I nearly said those rude words again. But that's in the past now."

"No Gill. I think we were too reticent in our coupling before. We were innocent, we learned together, but we could never abandon ourselves, and I think we should. Sometimes we were like two academics rather than lovers. I love fucking you, I love having my cock in your pussy. Your cunt is heaven to me." I felt Gill stiffen as I said those words, then she relaxed.

"You're right. We did restrain ourselves. We talked so much about it that we never, as you say, abandoned ourselves." She got up on her elbow and looked me in the eyes. "I loved you fucking me, my cunt thrilled when your cock went in. I want to be on a regular diet now of fucking, sucking and pussy licking. I want to suck your cock, blowing you as often as I can, and swallow all your cum. Is that alright?"

"Gill. It sounds like heaven to me. Now I am going to re-introduce my tongue to a part of you it has missed for a long time." I moved down her body and pushed her legs apart.

"No, you can't. Let me go and clean myself up, you have just cum in me."

"Gill! Lay back and enjoy. I shall." She smiled.

"Yes, Andy."

For the first time in all of our loving, Gill became very vocal as I brought her to orgasm with my lips and tongue. She was very explicit as well.

"Yes, that's it. Suck my clit, harder, harder. Push your tongue into my cunt, oh fuck that's wonderful." I pushed my fingers into her cunt as well. "Agghh, Andy that's marvellous."

When she came, she screamed, calling me a bastard, a wonderful bastard, and many other things, as she shook, held her breath, gasped and shook some more. She was shattered as I worked my way back up her body, taking care to kiss and nibble as I travelled. Her nipples were harder than I had ever seen, and so sensitive that when I nipped one with my lips, she had a mini-orgasm. I lay over her, smiling as she recovered. Her eyes opened and she dragged my mouth down to her lips. I wondered why she was licking all round my mouth, and searching with her tongue the furthermost regions inside my cheeks. She told me she was trying to join with me in tasting our combined emissions.