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TGI Chronicles Pt. 1 Ch. 01

By: GaryAPB



Part 1: Too Late Ch. 01

I woke up on that Thursday morning to Beth moving about in the bed, it was more than her just turning over, but she wasn't getting out. Then I felt her tongue on the very tip of my cock already hard and stiff from whatever unknown dream I had been dreaming before I woke. Quickly, before I could move, her mouth engulfed the whole head. It felt wonderful.

"Well this is a good way to wake up. I think I'll insist on it always."

I felt her release my cock from her mouth. Moments later her tousled, but oh so beautiful head appeared from under the duvet. "You should be so lucky!"

"Well I think I'm pretty lucky just to be married to you. But some more of that sucking wouldn't go amiss if today is my lucky day."

She disappeared under the duvet again and resumed her sucking, quickly to be followed by her fucking.

As we recovered breath and came down from our mutual orgasms, I turned my head to the bedside clock radio. There wasn't a lot of time for me to get out of the house and on my way to work. "Well, what brought that on? Not that I'm complaining."

She lay in the crook of my arm as she replied "I woke up early, I guess it was the sun or the birds and I remembered what a great time we had last night and what a great husband I've got and my thoughts led to action."

"I love you. And to prove my undying love for you, I'm going to get out of this bed, have a shower and get on my way to earn you the money to give you some of the luxuries that you so richly deserve. Like those rugs you fancy for the guestroom." I kissed the top of her head and swung my legs out of the bed.

---

As I drove down the High Street I spotted Alice walking along. Alice is a rather attractive late-20's girl in Marketing and Sales. She lives somewhere in the town, in walking distance of the offices. We have an unwritten rule, if I pass her in my car before she has turned into River Road then I'll stop and give her a lift. If she has got around the corner then we both think it's not worth stopping and I leave her to walk and just wave as I pass. This morning she was a long way from River Road, either I was early or she was even later than me. 

She jumped in and immediately said "Morning Tim, you look happy. You must have got lucky last night."

"Not just last night."

"Don't! I don't want to know about the passions of you newly weds."

"Beth and I aren't newly weds. We've been married for seven years. Eight years in August. But we are passionate. I'm a walking talking advert for married life."

"I still don't want to know. I've got no man in my life. Just a bunch of bloody customers and a lousy boss at work"

"Don isn't a bad boss is he?"

"No, not normally, but you know what all the directors are getting like until that ITP contract pays up on its next instalment."

"I'd heard times were a bit tight. But its nothing to do with me, I'm very pleased to say."

"It's an insurance client, surely that's in your division?"

"Yes, but Perry insists on doing that project himself. He's the boss, so he is nominally in charge of everything insurance. But he split it so that he takes personal care of ITP, plus being head of department of course, and I get all the other insurance work." 

I swung into a space in the staff car park and we strolled together into the offices. She returned to the subject of my personal life, "What does Beth do? Do you have children?"

"No, not yet. I hope soon. Beth works part time, mainly from home, as the PR person for a small federation of food manufacturers. Why?"

"No reason, just interested." She headed for the marketing suite, I headed for the coffee machine.

It then turned into a pretty normal morning in TGI Financial Computer Systems. Until about 12 o'clock that is. Perry Charman, my boss turned up at my desk. That was pretty unusual in itself, he would normally get Stella his secretary to summon me to his office. He then suggested we went out to lunch. That was even more unusual. I've worked at TGI for five years and Perry for about two years. He came in to be Head of Insurance Systems Development and Implementation, alongside the Banking and the Investment Systems Divisions. I became Deputy Head at that time. In those two years I don't think Perry has invited me to lunch ever. So why today?

We left the building walking to Perry's car. "Let's go to the Magpie, they sell good beer there." Life was getting odder and odder. Perry never drinks at lunch time, and before now he has heavily hinted that he disapproves of any lunchtime drinking and that I should make sure that none of the department partakes. Oh well!

Perry is a funny soul. He is just useless at communicating with his fellow man. How in the world he ever became a manager I do not know. He knows all the rules, he just can't apply them because that would mean really having to talk to people. We had a very stilted conversation for the whole of lunch. Long and awkward silences, with Perry then suddenly asking a question about my techniques in project management, or how to motivate the project team or an individual who I knew well. Now I knew that the ITP project was running late and a bit of a mess, the Friday night after work drinkers frequently complained about it. It wasn't a surprise, Perry was useless at motivating and driving the team. Yet it was the biggest and most important implementation we had, so he insisted on taking personal control. Obviously the pressure was on, and Perry was getting stressed about it. I made gentle suggestions, but I don't think he picked up on them.

It turned into a very long and boozy lunch. I drank five pints, I don't know how much Perry drank, he went onto double vodkas after his first couple of pints, and he was drinking faster than me.

Suddenly, Perry announced that it was time to go, with me none the wiser as to what the whole drinking session had been about. Neither of us was fit to go back to the offices, and Perry certainly wasn't fit to drive. I pointed this out to him, and he didn't argue. We quickly agreed with the barman that he could leave his car in their car park and they ordered him a taxi. I decided to walk home. 

It was about an hour's walk, but I thought it might sober me up a bit, and I'd still be home earlier than normal which would be a nice surprise for Beth.

---

The sun was hot on that June afternoon. I sweated a lot as I walked home. We live right on the outskirts of town in a house we bought when I came to work for TGI. It was pretty run down at that time, otherwise we couldn't have afforded it. Even then the mortgage has been a bit of a strain. We have spent five years getting it how we wanted, but it's been Beth's hard work and inspiration rather than mine, I just supplied the muscle. And now, the work was very nearly complete. Just some little jobs still to do, plus some minor second thoughts on what we've done already. That's why I thought we were ready for children, but Beth wanted a few months to get her mind around that, and there was no rush. I had just turned thirty and Beth was twenty-eight. I was thinking about future family life in the home she had created as I sweated and sobered up as I walked along.

When I got home it was about four thirty. I called out for Beth, but got no answer. She was obviously out. I went upstairs thinking I'd have a shower and a change of clothes. I went into our bedroom when I glanced out of the window and saw Beth.

She was lying sunbathing beside our neighbour's pool. Ken and Jean Whitman had moved next door to us about three years ago. Their house was bigger than ours, and stood in a very large garden. They were obviously fairly wealthy. They were about fifteen years older than Beth and myself, in their mid to late forties say. They had two sons who were away at public school. They had spent a fortune on the house, extending it, putting in a swimming pool and tennis courts, a huge garage block which included a show room type garage for a vintage Bentley that was Ken's pride and joy. Jean was a lawyer who spent Monday to Friday in London, living in their town flat. Ken was a freelance consultant to airlines on fuel issues and he worked from home, with occasional business trips all over the world.

Beth and myself got on with them well. We weren't close, but we had no problems with them and I hope they had no problems with us as neighbours. They were always encouraging us to use their pool or their tennis courts. Obviously Beth had taken them up on their offer this afternoon.

You don't get a clear view of their pool or garden from our bedroom window, there are too many hedges and bushes in the way. But you can see one end of the pool and some of the surrounding paved area. Beth was lying on a lounge chair, sunglasses on, wearing her pink bikini and sitting up reading a paperback. I could see that much. Ken was sitting in the shade under an umbrella, working at his laptop. 

I thought I'd still have that shower and then put on my swim trunks under a pair of shorts and stroll round to them. Then, if Ken invited me to have a swim, I'd be ready.

As I undressed, I noticed Ken must be saying something to Beth. She then lent forward and took off her bikini top. She lay back to continue reading.

I have to say I was a bit surprised that my wife was sunbathing topless in front of our neighbour. But if she does it on holiday, why not in a back garden? And she does have lovely breasts, round and full but with no sag. I was a lucky man, why shouldn't Ken see just how lucky I was?

I stood at the window thinking these thoughts, when Ken mouthed something else to Beth. She stood up and walked up towards the house. I couldn't see all of her, just a short top half, but that gave me a nice view of her bouncing breasts. I considered opening a window and calling or waving. But that would have brought her home, and I fancied that swim. Better that I go round to them.

She came out again and walked to Ken. She was carrying a drink can. I couldn't tell if it was beer or a soft drink. He took it, saying something to her. She bent down, almost out of sight for a couple of seconds. Then she stood up again and just stood beside him, her back to me. After about a minute she walked away towards the pool.

As she got to the pool I saw that she was naked. I could see her whole backside. That was too much. What was going on here? Topless is one thing, nudity is too much. Before I could move she dived into the pool and swam out of sight. Then she came back into view as she did her second length. Then out of sight again. Now Beth is a strong swimmer, and I expected her to automatically do ten or twenty lengths. What was I going to do? Nothing wrong was happening, but she shouldn't be nude, and certainly not so casually nude in Ken's sole presence. It was worrying. I knew I was getting upset, and I also knew that I was probably being unreasonable. Then Beth came into view walking the side of the pool. She obviously had got out of the pool at the steps at the out of sight end. She walked up to Ken and just stood there dripping water. His hand went out to her, and he was speaking.

Then she turned and started walking towards the house, Ken got up and followed her a step behind. My God, they are going indoors. My mind raced. Now I was upset. They must be going indoors to fuck, why else does a naked woman go indoors with a man when they are completely alone?

I felt sick in my stomach. My head throbbed right above my eyes. I just collapsed onto the edge of the bed and sat there, panting, sweating and strangely cold. I have no idea how long a sat there, or even what I was thinking. I'm not sure I was thinking, I was just feeling. Then a thought did come into my mind. I must have been mistaken. This was Beth, my wife, the woman who made love to me this morning because she loved me so much. I must be wrong.

I'll go next door. If it is nothing, then I'm just interrupting them because I'm home early. If they are doing anything, well.....

But I can't. I can't risk it. I couldn't stand seeing them together. Not my Beth and that Ken. No, I daren't go next door. 

I'll phone them. Where is my cell phone? I found my jacket on the bed behind me. I found my phone in its pocket. I pressed favourite number one, Beth's phone. It rang and rang. Then I heard its jazzy warble in the distance, just faint on the air. I stood up, listening, where was it? It was coming from the pool area next door. Her phone was down by the pool. Then her answer phone message cut in.

What was their house number? I may have it in my directory, but how would I have listed it? Under Ken? Or Jean? Or Whitman? Or even Next Door? I'll have to pan through the lot, it could be under any entry. I sat again, pressing my way through the entries. Then there was "Jean W (Mble)". I pressed the little green phone button. Jean answered. "Hello, Jean Whitman."

"Hello Jean, its Tim next door. I think you should come home. I'm sure your husband is in your house screwing my wife at the moment."

"Oh! Not again. That's it."

"Again!? What do you mean Again?"

"Oh sorry Tim. I don't mean again with Beth. In fact I find it hard to believe it is Beth this time. But I'm not surprised it's someone. That's what I meant about Again."

"Oh" I said feeling slightly appeased.

"I'll leave right away. I should be able to catch the 5:30. I'll be home at about 7:30. I'll take a taxi from the station. I'll see you later Tim -- after I've seen Ken."

She rang off. I sat and thought. She wasn't surprised at Ken's infidelity. Obviously it wasn't the first time. Poor Jean. It's surprising what you don't know about other people's lives. 

Why had I done that? As I phoned Jean I knew she was in London. There was nothing she could do now about what's going on next door now. So why did I phone her? Maybe she'll phone them and that will stop it. My head hurts!

I don't remember going down stairs. But I was then in the sitting room. The French windows were open onto the garden, but it was still hot in the room.

I sat down in an old wing chair that Beth had found in a junk shop and had reupholstered herself. A coldness of emotion came over me as I sat there. I felt I was thinking clearer and clearer. I would challenge her as soon as she came home, before she has time to collect her thoughts. If it was an affair, then the marriage was over. I knew that coldly and clearly. There was no going back, no reconciliation to live with fear and doubt from then on. I would be out of here. If it was a first time, one off moment of madness in the summer sun, then may be we could get over it. I wasn't sure where the line was between a mad moment and a full affair.

I just sat there getting more clinical and more coldly, bitterly angry than I've ever known myself.

Then I started analysing what I'd seen. Why was I so convinced that this was an affair? I had seen nothing overtly sexual between them But I just knew.

Then Beth came through the French windows wearing a yellow towelling robe that she doesn't have. She didn't see me sitting in the dark corner.

"Hello Beth. I guess you need a shower to get the smell of Ken's after shave off your body before I come home. Do you need to get his cum out of your cheating cunt as well?" I was cold, clear and loud, but I wasn't shouting.

"Tim! You startled me. What do you mean? Good Heavens, I know what you mean. What the hell do you think your doing accusing me of that?"

She looked as white as a sheet, she stared into the gloom on my shady side of the room. 

I stood up, but lurched slightly to the side, holding on to the arm of the chair. 

"Well is it true? I saw you in the garden."

"Have you been drinking? Yes, you're pissed. I don't know what you saw. Look, I am going for a shower, I suggest you drink a lot of black coffee or orange juice or something. And then we'll talk about what you supposedly saw when I come down. I'll also get you something to eat - that might help you sober up and think straight."

She walked out and went up stairs.

I sat down again and tried to remember what she had said. Had she admitted it? Had she denied it? She had accused me of being drunk, and she was possibly right. No not drunk, but definitely the worse for wear. She was right, I needed some coffee and orange juice and aspirin.

---

I was in the kitchen when she came down. She was obviously wary of me and didn't come close.

"How are you now? Have you sobered up? I'll get us something to eat. Then we've got some talking to do."

She opened the freezer door and stared inside. "We've got some Bolognese sauce here. Let's have spag bol. Not exciting, but plenty of pasta might soak up some of your booze. Now why are you home so early, so drunk and so accusatory of me?

That was three questions. Two of them were easily answered, the third was harder to truthfully answer because I didn't know why, but I'd seen them and I knew.

"Perry insisted we take a very early, very boozy lunch and I don't know why. But I wasn't fit to go back to the office so I came home."

"I hope you didn't drive."

"No I walked from the Magpie. My car's still at the office."

"Good, you'd be dead by now if you'd tried to drive in that state."

"For fuck's sake Beth. I accused you of having an affair with Ken. Why are we talking about my driving ability when pissed?" My voice had gone up several decibels suddenly.

"That's why! One minute you are quietly telling me about your lunch with Perry, the next you are swearing and shouting at me."

I sat down just as the microwave went ping to signify that the Bolognese sauce was defrosted. It struck me as a very odd sound effect for my frustrated anger.

I sat in silence sipping a glass of orange juice while Beth fussed around getting a meal. Eventually she put a plate of Spaghetti Bolognese down in front of me. 

"I'm having a glass of wine" she said, the first time either of us had spoken for some minutes. "Do you want one? You shouldn't, you've drunk enough today."

"No, I'll go on drinking juice." I replied.

I twirled some spaghetti on my fork. Eating seemed a good idea, but I didn't want it. I wanted to go to bed and sleep. I wanted Beth to answer my questions. I wanted to walk out and never come back. I wanted to start the day again without any of this.

Beth hardly touched her food either. The first sign that I'd seen of nerves. She seemed so calm, so patient, just waiting for the right time to talk my accusation through.

Eventually, she looked up and asked "Now, Tim, exactly what did you see that upset you so much and made you think I was having an affair with Ken?"

"O.K." I took a big breath. This was it. Somehow I had to make this sound convincing enough that it would reflect how I felt and demand a truthful answer if she was guilty. "I came home early, and I called for you. You weren't in so I went up to our bedroom. I saw you sunbathing with Ken by their pool." 

"Well that's accurate. I saw Ken this morning as I went into town to get some milk. He asked what I'd got planned for the day, and I said I had some work to do 'til about lunchtime. Then this afternoon I thought I might sit in the garden and read a book. It looked like it was going to be too hot to do any gardening. He suggested that I go round there, maybe sit by their pool and have a swim. He liked to work down by the pool, but preferred company. I went round there and took him up on his offer. I guess it was sometime after four o'clock that you saw us."

That seemed fair and probably true. Let's move on, "Then he said something to you, and you immediately took off your bikini top."

"Yes, he had been kidding me ever since I'd arrived that he bet I wouldn't be wearing a top if I was in Spain or Greece. I'd said 'Maybe, later'. I don't know why but I didn't want to strip off in their garden. But eventually he made some other comment, and I thought 'Oh what the hell!' and I took off my top. It's no big thing, Tim. He was right, on holiday in Europe I would certainly be flashing them to every man on the beach. And in my own garden here I would have been sunbathing topless, if not nude. You know that, you've never complained in the past. Your not silly jealous are you?"


TGI Chronicles Pt. 1 Ch. 01



"It was just the way you did it. He seemed to tell you to do it, and you obeyed. And you were so comfortable with it."

"Well, I certainly wasn't going to give him the pleasure of thinking it was special treat just for him. I wanted to keep it natural, that it was no big thing. And it isn't!" She looked at me defiantly. 

Well, maybe she can explain it away. But I still didn't feel happy about it, so I pressed on, "But then he sent you in for a drink for him. And you hurried off to do it, like some semi-naked Nubian slave, pandering to her master's every whim."

"Well it was a bit like that. Or at least I felt it was. He asked me to go and get him a cold drink. He didn't say Please, he didn't offer me one. He really is a selfish pig of a man. But I was sunbathing by his pool. So, I did what he said. But I wasn't very happy at that moment."

"OK. But then you stripped to nothing as soon as you got back."

"Did you see that? Did you see my pussy from the window?"

I shook my head. "No, but I saw your bum when you went swimming."

"No, I didn't think you could have. My g-string bikini bottom would look like I was nude from the back and at that distance . You know that little tan coloured one?" Again she looked defiantly at me, challenging me to deny her.

She went on, "You obviously couldn't see the strings of the g-string at the back from your window. You see, I was angry with Ken when I brought him that drink. He was totally oblivious of how I felt. He just made some lewd comment about me being topless, and why didn't I finish the job? I thought I could really get at him, really show him. So I very slowly and sexily peeled off my bikini bottom. He didn't know that I could wear a g-string under it. He had to play it cool, but I knew what he was thinking. I thought that was a little victory. Us girls have to rely on the little victories when dealing with lechers like Ken."

She looked at me. I just sat thinking. It was plausible but didn't quite ring true.

"Why did you have a g-string on under your bikini. Did you think Ken was going to rape you? I've never known you to wear two bikini bottoms before."

She looked at me for a long moment. I think she saw I was trying to find fault in her story, which was probably unfair. How many of us are completely rational all the time? I wasn't totally rational in my doubts and thinking.

"Originally I wasn't going to take up Ken's offer. I was going to sunbathe just wearing that little g-string on our back patio. So I put it on. Then I had a worry that the sun doesn't stay on our patio to late afternoon, I know it certainly doesn't later in the year, I wasn't sure about June. So I went over to the window to look at our patio and to judge it and I saw the Whitman's pool. It looked so inviting that I changed my mind. So I put on the pink bikini. As you know that is one of my most modest bikinis, which was why I chose it. I'm not really sure why, I wasn't expecting trouble. I just did it."

She paused, looking at me, and then added "If you don't believe me Tim, my g-string is wet but drying at the end of the towel rail in our bathroom."

"So why did you go indoors with him, and what were you doing?"

"You saw me go for a swim. Well maybe I got too hot sitting in the sun, maybe its too early in the year and their pool hasn't heated up yet, but that water was very cold. After a few lengths I came out. I was too cold. I said so to Ken, I went up to thank him, but I was going to come home for a hot shower. He said not to do that, but to go into their house and he'd make me a cup of tea, and he'd find me a towel. I could have a shower there if I wanted. And that's what we did."

"Tell me, what happened then. You were in there some time?"

"God, Tim. This is getting to be like the Inquisition. I'm trying to be patient and explain it all, because you got yourself in such a state about it, but this is getting silly."

"Humour me."

"OK!" she said, with a sigh "Ken found me a big fluffy towel. An orange one. I've never seen bright orange towels before, but there you go. Anyway it was straight from their airing cupboard and was lovely and warm from their hot tank. Then he found me that bathrobe of Jean's. Being indoors and with the towel and robe I was feeling warmer, so I decided not to shower. I wrapped up and just got warm. Ken was in the kitchen, and he'd made a pot of tea. We sat there to drink it. I foolishly mentioned his Bentley, just to make conversation. That set him off. He went and got a set of 1930's Bentley postcards that he'd just bought on E-bay. God, I warn you Tim. Ken has a thousand boring facts about those bloody postcards, and he lovingly told me every one - at length and in detail. As soon as I could I got away to come home for a shower. That's when I found a stupid, drunk husband in a jealous rage. OK? Now you know what happened from when you caught me sunbathing by their pool. Can we let it drop?"

"He was touching you when you came out of the pool."

"Did he?"

"Yes, I saw his arm move to touch you."

"Maybe he was moving a fly or something. It was nothing important."

I just sat in silence going over the detail of what she had told me. Maybe it was just my stupid male ego, maybe it was still the lunchtime drinking, maybe it was my guilt at being stupid, but I desperately sought the one damning mistake in her explanation. I couldn't find it, but I couldn't say sorry. I was suddenly very tired, I wanted to go to bed and sleep. That was the after effects of the drink, I was certain about that at least.

Eventually, Beth broke the silence, "Let's have cup of coffee."

"I think I'd like to go to bed. I feel so very tired. The lunchtime drinking and the emotions of the day are catching up with me." I pleaded.

"Have a cup of coffee with me before you do. Please. Look, you go into the sitting room. I'll clear the table and make some coffee and bring it through."

I guess I owed her that. She seems to have had a rotten day as well. I nodded my agreement, and went into the sitting room. 

After a few minutes Beth followed me with two mugs of coffee. "Its only instant I'm afraid. But I thought you could do with some more coffee, and I know I need one." 

I was sitting at one end of the sofa. She put the coffee down on the table in front of me, and sat on the floor beside my legs, leaning against the sofa, effectively in front of me, and with her back to me.

Beth broke the silence "So what's all this about Perry then?"

We then chatted about Perry and his total inability for hands on project management. Talking it through with Beth made me realise that other than for his lack of one-on-one ability, he was a damn good manager and boss. In his time, the last two years, the insurance team had received better pay rises than either banking or investments. He was scrupulously fair on the rare occasions when disciplinary action had been needed. He had certainly helped me, his clinical analyses of my work in my personal reviews had certainly helped me as I learnt the ropes of management as his deputy. That's what's good about Beth. She is so good at bringing out my muddled thoughts, of helping me understand myself and my world. I loved her for that.

Eventually we ran out of work gossip and fell to silence again.

The room had drifted towards gloom, as twilight came with the setting sun. I was sitting there with my private thoughts, when Beth started another line of conversation, "What would you have done if you had caught me having an affair with Ken?"

"It would have depended a little on the circumstances. If it was just a silly one off, to be regretted but really meaningless, then I guess I would have to get over it. It would hurt like hell though, and life wouldn't be much fun for a long long time. But if it was a full blown affair then it would have been divorce." I was pleased to note that I was talking as if it was hypothetical, this was the first time I had actually acknowledged that I had accepted her story. I was glad.

"What happened to Love and Tolerance and Forgiveness and all those good things that I thought our marriage had in Spades?"

"I think cold deliberate betrayal week after week, or month after month, gets beyond that. It destroys the fundamental trust on which all those other things are based. Its not about forgiveness, its about trying to find a way forward. And there isn't one without trust."

"God, Tim, you have been thinking about it."

"One of us has to. I know you just follow your heart and live by the day."

"I don't."

"Yes you do. I'm not criticizing. It's the way you think. It's part of the reason you are so good at your job and PR. You live to get the story right for the day, as long as you get to the end of the day with no damage done and without having to tell a literal lie, then its been a good day. There isn't an ounce of long term strategic thinking in you. I'm not complaining, its you and I love you."

"What do you mean, never telling a literal lie?"

"Look, let's not go there. I love you just as you are, and I'm very tired and I want to go to bed. Please can I go to bed? Please?"

"Yes, let's not end the day on an argument, that might count as damage and that's against my creed - apparently!" she said with heavy sarcasm, but I knew, with good humour.

I leant forward and kissed the top of her head. Then I just stood up and wearily made my way to bed.

---

I so desperately wanted, no needed, to go to sleep. But I kept going over my feelings and all that Beth had said. What was wrong with me? I have never known Beth to lie to me, ever. Her explanation was exact and detailed and disproved my doubts. She was right, her g-string bikini was damp and drying in our bathroom. I was convinced. But I hadn't been able to say sorry. Tim - you are a fool, a stupid fool.

With that thought I must have dozed off. I woke to Beth creeping around the bedroom in the dark, trying not to wake me. I very nearly sat up in bed to say how sorry I was to doubt her, but it seemed churlish to show her I was awake after she was trying so hard to be quiet and not disturb me. So I feigned sleep. Tomorrow would be soon enough to abase myself.

As she slid into the bed, for a moment she hovered over me and, very very gently, leant forward to kiss the back of my head and very quietly whisper "I do love you Tim, so very much. I promise I will never ever cheat on you for as long as I live."

On that happy thought I did fall properly asleep.

---

I woke at five o'clock. The birds were already singing their dawn chorus. I lay there thinking clearly. Now I was worried. Last night, in a drunken haze, I had accused my wife of being unfaithful. How could I have been so cruel. She hadn't got mad with me, although she had every right to do so. What was she thinking? My mind went wild with possibilities. She might think it was a cover story for my own adultery. She might think I am a stupid jealous husband showing signs of wanting an intolerable control of her life. Oh God! Tim - you are a fool, a stupid fool.

I had to say sorry in a big way. I had to show that I loved her and trusted her. And I had to do it as soon as possible. What could I do? It was beyond the flowers and chocolate sort of apology. 

As a lay there, in the grey light of dawn I remembered something from about six weeks ago, just before my birthday. The bedroom ceiling, that blank white expanse, must have inspired me! Beth had said one evening that she had seen Ken in the day. He had suggested that she might find well paid PR consultancy work within the airline industry. He'd offered to introduce her to some of the players at a conference in Rhodes that was coming up. She would have to pay her own hotel bill and conference fees, but Ken could get her the flights for free. I had been against it. First she was formally employed by her consortium, and we didn't know what they would think of her taking outside work. Second, and this was my selfish thinking, I wanted her to think about giving up work and starting a family, not building a new career as a freelance PR consultant. Now I could suggest that she takes Ken up on his offer. I know she wanted to do it, she was ambitious after all. And what better way of showing that I not only trust her, I trust her with Ken, the very man I thought was my rival. I'll suggest it this evening, over dinner at The Lobster Pot, the best restaurant in town.

I lay there planning our evening. The roses, the champagne and my coup-de-grace, the acceptance of her week in Rhodes with Ken. A saw a way forward to my own forgiveness. But the start better be a favourite breakfast.

I slid out of bed, so smoothly I ended up on all fours on the floor to minimise disturbing the duvet. I crept around collecting my clothes, opening and closing wardrobes and drawers more successfully than Beth did last night. I'm sure I didn't wake her. Then I crept out to use the main bathroom, not to risk noise from our en-suite one.

I looked into the shaving mirror, 'You'll be lucky, Tim, if you can get your apology in before it's too late.' 

To be continued...



TGI Chronicles Pt. 1 Ch. 02



Beth was sitting at the kitchen table as I came through the garden door. I had laid the table for her favourite breakfast, pain-au-chocolat with hot chocolate to drink, a feast of chocolate. I had been out in the garden looking for some flowers to put on the table, and had struck lucky. The rose bush that her parents had given us for our wedding anniversary in the first year we lived in this house was covered in blooms. I had picked a single rose on a long stem.

She had her back to me as I came in, but she looked round as she heard the door. "I wondered where you were."

"Look what I found. That rose is covered in blooms at the moment." I offered her the single bloom as a loving gift. "Don't you think that's significant.?"

"What is?" she asked as she held the rose to her face and sniffed its scent.

"Don't you remember? That's the rose that your parents gave us on the first wedding anniversary that we were here. The next year it had a couple of flowers on it, then every year it has grown and bloomed more. This year it's covered. Don't you think that's significant? It must mean something."

"It means that you're a silly romantic and that roses like the soil here."

"Maybe I am, but I've every right to be so." I knelt on the floor in front of her. "I have the most wonderful wife. I wanted to say sorry for my foolishness last night and tell you that I love you very much. You are the very centre of my being. I hope you know that. I do love you Beth, and I don't really doubt you, I don't know what got into me yesterday. I guess it was several pints of beer, but I shouldn't have said what I did. I'm sorry."

She leant forward and kissed me on the cheek. "You're forgiven."

"No, I want to say sorry more than that. I do trust you, you know. Do you remember that Adam incident when we lived in London. I trusted you then. You were the one that told me that you had a bloke at work who was getting a bit silly about you. I know you'd talk to me if, heaven forbid, you did find that you were unhappy or vulnerable to some man. I know you wouldn't go off and have an affair."

She looked up with a distant look in her eye, "Yes. I'd forgotten Adam. He took a lot of talking to at that company barbeque. Do you remember?"

"When he tried to talk to you alone, offering to get you drinks or food from the barbie? And he did it all right in front of me. His intent was pretty obvious. Didn't he know that I was your husband?"

"I don't think he cared. But it was because you were there that I put him down so firmly."

"You were pretty cruel. Why do you think I sent you to go and talk to him? To at least rebuild his ego at little bit. I have a confession to make about that."

"What?" she asked, looking interested.

"Well, I said you should go and let him down a bit better than you did. Leave the poor guy some ego. Do you remember? And you went off to find him. After about quarter of an hour I began to get a bit worried, and I went looking for you. I found you just talking to him on a seat right at the end of the garden, hidden from everyone else. I crept away leaving you to it."

"I knew you were there. Your reflection was in the window of that garden shed."

"And neither of us said anything. I guess there was no need. What I wanted to say is that I do trust you. Even with the Adam's of this world. You talked to me about him and I know you would talk to me about anything. I love you Beth Williams."

"And I love you, Tim Williams."

We kissed and then just held each other. 

"You would tell me if anything worried you, wouldn't you Beth?" I don't know why I returned to the subject, I guess I just wanted to make sure that she did know that she could talk about anything.

"Yes. Of course."

"I remember when Paul was killed. You put up with me going on and on about Paul, day after day for weeks, until I had got all my feelings straight in my head. I was so grateful to you for that. You were wonderful. I think that's part of the reason I love and respect you more now than when we got married."

"Well he was far too young to die, and I knew it was a terrible time for you. I remember feeling so useless. You were so upset, and there was nothing I could do except let you talk."

I gave her another hug and squeeze. Then I had other ideas. "You haven't got anything on under that robe. You don't fancy a quickie on the kitchen table do you.?"

"Down boy. You'd be late for work." She smiled at me.

"Yes, your right. Anyway, I want to save you until after a dinner at The Lobster Pot tonight."

"For a dinner at The Lobster Pot you can have me before and after, and possibly during." She sat back and looked at me. "Anyway, The Lobster Pot is a bit much. I've already accepted your apology."

"Well I've got something else to say. To show how much I love you and trust you."

"Ooh! What?"

"You'll have to wait." I leant in again to give her one last kiss and hug.

From inside my hug I heard her hesitantly and quietly "You know I do get some things a bit muddled sometimes. But I do know that I love you so much, Tim...."

Then the doorbell went.

I stood up. "Who the hell is that? At this time of the morning!" 

I went to the hall, and approaching the front door I could see Jean's auburn hair through the hazy glass of the door. Oh my God. Jean! I had forgotten my phone call. What chaos and damage had I caused in their house. How do you say sorry to a neighbour for causing a real argument between a husband and wife? I opened the door.

"I'm sorry Jean..."

"Yes I guess it isn't a good time in here any more than in my house." She said as she walked in, straight passed me. She could see Beth in the kitchen, through the open door. 

Beth looked at her, down the hall, and said "Hi!"

So Jean went forward into the kitchen, and that's where she continued "I don't know what you two are going to do, but I thought you ought to know that Ken has admitted to it going on for three months. I don't know what she's told you, Tim. Anyway, we will be selling the house. For me it's the end."

The world went into slow motion. Three months!? Three months!? THREE MONTHS!? 

Somewhere I heard Jean continuing, but I didn't really hear what she was saying. It was something to do with her having all the money, and that she was sending Ken to Spain for two months. I didn't really understand. I was watching Beth. She was getting smaller and more curled up on her chair as I watched her. She was white. 

Jean was walking out again. I followed her. I was on autopilot, and I was seeing her to the door. That's what you did with visitors when they were leaving. I began to hear her again. "... they were both adults, they both knew what they were doing. But I'd like to bet that Ken was the one that started it. He can't resist trying it on as soon as he sees a pretty face."

By then she was standing in our porch and she turned to talk to me, "I'm so sorry Tim. I thought you and Beth were the perfect couple, I thought you'd be immune from Ken even if he did try something. I'm going to drive up to London. I'm taking Ken to Heathrow to make sure he gets a plane to Spain. He would have had to go there very soon anyway, we've got builders in on the villa, so he might as well be useful and oversee that before I get rid of him. You needn't worry, he won't come back. He'll be desperate trying to either placate me, or at least get himself a good settlement. I won't be back for a couple of weeks. Then I'll come down to start clearing up and put the house on the market. I'll give you a call then. Don't worry Tim. I promise you it will get better, whatever you do."

She just left, walking down our drive. The bearer of bad news. Shouldn't I kill her or something? I turned back to the kitchen. I felt totally icy. I knew that I used to have a heart. Now I had just a block of ice in that body cavity. 

And I was angry. Coldly. Deliberately. Angry.

Beth watched me as I came into the kitchen. She looked frightened, but maybe she had every right to, I couldn't see me, but I bet I looked exactly as I felt. "I'm sorry..... I can explain....I was going to tell you.... I'm so sorry..."

"You can explain! There is no possible explanation. Three months? Three bloody months of lying and cheating?"

She started to cry and she curled up onto her lap. All I could hear were sobs. Sobs and the occasional "I'm sorry" 

"Three months?" my voice was raising

"I'm sorry... you've got to forgive me..." she sobbed.

"THREE MONTHS?" I shouted, slamming my hand onto the table and jangling the crockery. I leant right across so that my face was almost her side of the table. "Answer me. Have you been having an affair with Ken for three months?"

"I'm sorry. I should have stopped it. I should have talked to you before it started. You've got to believe me. I'm sorry..."

"I'll ask once more. If you don't answer then I'm walking out. And I won't be back ....ever! HAVE YOU BEEN HAVING AN AFFAIR WITH KEN FOR THREE MONTHS?"

She looked up at me and whispered "Yes."

"Pardon? I didn't hear that." I sat down, heavily in my chair. I don't think my legs would let me stand any longer. It was my turn to crumple into a heap.

Beth slid out of her chair and came to kneel at my feet, "Yes ... I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I do love you Tim. Please don't leave me. Last night I decided to finish it. I was about to start telling you when Jean arrived. I'm sorry. You've got to believe me..."

I looked up at her. The ice had taken control again. "I'm going to work now. I don't want you here when I get home. Let me know where you've gone, or I'll contact you through your parents. There is nothing else to say. Goodbye Beth."

"No! No! You can't. I love you. We can work it out. Please ... Tim ... Please ...I'm your wife ..."

"No you're not. Not any more. You are just a - cheating - lying - slut that used to be my wife, in the days when you were decent and worth loving." I got up and just walked out, slamming the kitchen door behind me. 

As I walked the short length of the hall I heard a bestial scream from the kitchen. It was a howl of a wounded, once proud animal. I slammed the front door behind me.

I got to the drive and only then realised that I hadn't got my suit jacket. There was no way that I was going back, so I'll live without it. I'm pretty sure there are no formal meetings. Then there was no car where it should have been. Oh bugger, it's at work. Well, maybe that's for the best. I'll have to walk, and that way I can calm down. I've got to learn to work whilst I'm a bachelor again.

I don't remember much of that long walk into town. I just felt things, I didn't think. I know I wanted myself to cry, I tried to blubber up some tears but they didn't come. I wanted them so badly, I thought they would give me the release from the pressure. Tears would stop my head exploding. But they wouldn't come. And my head didn't explode.

As I came through the office reception I noticed that there was no receptionist on duty, just the security guard. I had lost all track of time. I looked at the wall clock, it was twenty to nine, and the receptionist didn't start until nine o'clock. After all that had happened, I was officially early, but late for me. I liked to be there by half past eight normally.

I sat at my desk and booted up my computer. I picked up my phone and hit the button for my voice mail. "You have ... 3... messages" said Mrs Metallica. I hit the button again. It was a client wanting me to call back. It didn't sound urgent. I hit the button. It was a Greg Dickens (or Dickers?) of ITP wanting lunch with me. What was that about? Don't tell me that after months of keeping Perry off my best guys, he was going to draft me onto that bloody ITP project. Maybe that's what yesterday's lunch was meant to be about. Odd! But not a lot I can do about it until Perry comes in. I hit the button. It was sobbing and gasping. Beth, almost indecipherable in her words. I switched off. I didn't want to listen.

My email was just as mundane. Someone was trying to get a company cricket team together. I knew I should fancy that, but I didn't. Anyway how can I commit myself for a season when I don't know how I'm going to live until lunch time?

I sat back. Colleagues were drifting into to their work stations. Some said 'Hi' without even looking up from the desk or papers. I noticed that those I looked at and who looked at me didn't say a word. Obviously there was something written across my forehead that warned them off. Did it say Cuckold in bright red capital letters? 

I tried to work, I wanted to bury myself in work problems. I was OK, or so I thought, in talking to people. I thought I was holding sensible business conversations. But I couldn't read a thing. Words were read, they just didn't make sense. Nothing stuck in my mind for the length of time between reading the beginning of a sentence and the end of that same sentence. I tried again and again and again in between visits to the coffee machine, to the loo (even when I didn't need to go), to the stationery cupboard although I had plenty of pens and paper. Anything to avoid real work. 

It was no good. I had to tell someone. Friend or manager? That was the question. I couldn't face telling a friend, they would ask questions, they might show patronising sympathy, and I couldn't stand that. I know I would have to face it all sometime. But not yet. Not now. So that left Manager. That seemed fair. I obviously wasn't going to work well today, and maybe never again. I owed it to them to put them in the picture. 

Perry's office was empty. Stella saw me looking and simply said "He isn't in yet." 

No Perry, so who? Charlie Bullard, the Personnel Director? Actually that could be a good choice. Charlie was a founder of the company with Neil Timmons, the CEO. Apparently there had been a third guy, but he dropped out (or was pushed out) early on. The early success was always attributed to Neil's great sales ability. I always thought that Charlie had a lot to do with it. He created the company culture that delivered success. He was the one that cared about people, and they were the company's only true assets. He was also a nice guy, in his late fifties, but he had a rapport with everyone, whatever their age, whatever their status.

When I got to Charlie's office he wasn't there, but his assistant suggested that I could wait in his office. So I sat in the visitor's chair at his desk for nearly twenty minutes. She offered me a cup of coffee, which I declined, I'd drunk enough coffee already, trying to avoid work. Eventually Charlie turned up.

"Tim, good to see you. I hope you haven't been waiting long."

"No, I wanted a word and I simply waited for you."

"Yes, sorry. Neil's had me in there for ages. Anyway what's this about? You don't stand an earthly of being allowed to recruit at the moment, so if its that, then let's not waste time."

"No, its personal."

"Well, in that case, let's have a cup of coffee. How do you take it."

There was no option, and anyway, having a coffee with Charlie seemed friendly, less formal, even if I had turned one down only a few minutes earlier. "White without, please."

Charlie put his head out of the office door and asked for two coffees. He came back to his desk, leaving the door wide open. He saw the look of concern on my face. "Let's wait for the coffee. Have you seen that they're trying to get a cricket team together. Apparently one of the banks' IT departments want to challenge us. You used to play a bit of cricket if I remember right?"

We made small talk about cricket until the coffee arrived, "Thanks" said Charlie, passing me a mug. "Could you close the door" he asked as the girl left. "Well? You look pretty uptight, so what is this all about?"

"About three hours ago I found out that my wife has been having a long affair. I've left her. I came into work, but I can't work and I think you should know." There I'd actually said it, my mouth did get round those dreadful words. And it felt better to find that I could say it. It was no longer a secret.

Charlie looked at me. He just watched me for what seemed like a very long time. Then he spoke. "I'm sorry, Tim. Of course you need the day off, you need the week off. That's not a problem. I'll tell Perry. Just go home."

"Oh God! No! I can't go home. I can't face her. I told her I want her out of the house before I get home this evening. I won't go home 'til I'm sure she's gone."

Again, Charlie paused. He leant forward across his desk. "You've got to face her sometime, Tim. You've got to talk to her."

"Yes, I know. But not yet. I'm so full of anger and hatred and wanting to hurt her. And I'm so empty of anything else. I can't talk to her yet. It would just be a slanging match, and I don't want my marriage to end on that."

"No. I see. Sure. OK, you shouldn't talk to her yet. Not until you're ready ..... and she is ready."

We both took a sip of our coffees. Then Charlie continued, "You know people do get over the most dreadful things in their marriages, and go on to happy life afterwards?"

"Some do, I know I won't. I don't see how there can be a way back from this. I want to find a little bachelor flat, sell the house and hope life brings something better next time. " I said.

"Well, wait and see. Don't do anything that you will regret later. And if it comes to divorce, then there can be a happy new life after that as well. I know because that's what happened to me. I promise you, either way its not as bad as you think it is now. I know, I've been there."

It was my turn just to look at him and wait. Charlie was the sort of man that is the stalwart of the middle classes and the community. His wife, Rose (I think I remembered her name) was of similar ilk. It was hard to imagine that their marriage was a late flowering love. I waited to see if he would tell me anymore. I wasn't that interested, but coffee and talking in this safe haven was better than being out there facing people.

"I didn't go to university when I left school. I married my school sweetheart, and went out to work. I thought we were very happy. After a couple of years she changed her job, and the new one seemed to demand that she work all sorts of odd hours. But the money was good and we needed that."

"Go on." I said, wondering where this was leading.

"Then one evening I was waiting for her in her company's regular watering hole, and when people realised who I was waiting for they sort of nudged and winked at me, implying I was in for a good time tonight. I wondered what it was all about."

"And?"

Charlie looked up at me, then leant back in his tilting chair and put his feet up on the desk. "It turned out that she had listed herself at the company in her old maiden name, and took off her wedding rings every morning before she went into work. She then flirted with and dated any and every guy she fancied. She had quite a reputation, hence the nudges in the pub."

"Good Heavens! What was she up to?"

"To this day I still don't know. I think I would still like to know and understand, even after all this time. That's why, whatever happens, you must talk. You must get to the truth, even if it hurts. Even if it confirms that there is no way forward." He looked up at me, staring me in the eyes.

Then he continued, "Obviously I divorced her. Divorce was a lot trickier in those days, but even then mine went through on the nod. It left me going pretty wild for a while. Then I decided I did want to go to university, so I was a late entrant. I wanted to understand more about people and their motivations. I wasn't clever enough for medical school and psychiatry. I guess that's why I ended up in personnel."

"So when did you meet your wife, and was getting married the second time easy?"

"She was a nurse, and I met her at a dance. All very traditional. I think she fancied me and decided to nurse me back to romantic good health. We've been married for thirty years last September. Two boys and a girl, and total happiness and contentment. I promise you Tim, there can be a happy ending."




TGI Chronicles Pt. 1 Ch. 02



"Maybe not for everyone." I said gloomily.

"That's probably how you feel now." He just stared at me as I was finishing my coffee. "So what are we going to do with you for today. Look, play it by ear. If you want to go home, then go home. How about telling your parents? They're still around I assume?"

"Well, sort of. They retired to Ireland a couple of years ago. You see my younger brother Paul was called up for Afghanistan, and was killed out there. It rather screwed them up. They sort of went inwards on themselves, and then decided that Dad would retire and they'd do what they'd always promised themselves, they'd retire to Ireland which they've done."

Charlie looked at me, knowing I hadn't finished, "It's OK. They seem happy. And I have a good relationship with them. It's just a bit of a haul to get to see them, fly to Dublin and then drive for three hours. So we don't see a lot of each other. They have their life and I have mine, or I had mine!" I added bitterly.

"Well sometimes a cuddle from Mum helps at times like these, even when you are a big boy. Maybe you should get over there soon. Tell me, how did you feel about your brother's death?"

I looked at him, was this the amateur psychiatrist in him, or had he seen something? "Well I was pretty cut up about it at the time. Paul and myself fought like hell all through our childhood. And then as we got older we began to appreciate each other more. I think we could have been really good friends. But there was always time to sort that out. He was in London, living his fun bachelor life. I was happily married here, remodelling the house and working hard. There was always time to build my bridges with Paul. And then suddenly there was no time." Tears welled up in my eyes. I thought I'd cried every last ounce I had for Paul, but suddenly they all came back.

Charlie quietly pushed the box of tissues across the desk. I guess they're standard issue in Personnel. He quietly waited for me to wipe my eyes and blow my nose. I looked up at him and tried to smile. "It's ironic. I wanted so much to cry about Beth this morning and I couldn't. Now I can cry for Paul and he's been dead for years."

"I suspect they're the same tears. Don't worry."

He just sat and looked at me while I composed myself. Eventually he judged I could talk, or at least listen, "Look, Tim. You've got rough times ahead. If you think that this isn't just a little weekend hiatus, then I suggest you tell someone at work. Whatever you do, you are going to be grist for the gossip mill in this place. You might as well start it on your own terms and tell a trusted friend. Think about it, choose your best colleague and friend and take them out at lunch time and talk. Its got to be done, and it only gets harder the longer you try to pretend everything is OK. Even with all the prurient gossip, people will be a lot kinder if they know what's happened."

He stood up. "Thank you for coming to see me, Tim. I know it couldn't have been easy. Look, I've got to go to a meeting, but you stay here and compose yourself and think about things. Have another cup of coffee if you want. Keep me posted."

He reassuringly squeezed my shoulder as he passed, on his way out of the door.

I guess I sat there for another quarter of an hour. I was conscious that the personnel staff were watching me, but discretely leaving me alone. It had felt easier having talked to Charlie. So I decided that he was probably right, I should tell someone else. Finally I went back to my desk. Not a lot had changed there.

I went to find Dave. David Finch was my best friend at work. He had joined about two months after me, and one grade below me. We had progressed in parallel. He was now my right hand man and my best project manager. He was also my eyes and ears on what was going on amongst my teams, always tipping me off to put right all the little things that go wrong in working teams. Dave was about a year younger than me, unreasonably handsome, tall and dark, with big soft brown eyes. There was some Italian blood in him somewhere. Dave's looks were his downfall. While I was the devoted married man, Dave never got very far into a relationship, at the first sign of a problem he would dump her and move on. There were always plenty of candidates for Dave's bed. Maybe the differences between us are why we worked together so well. That, and that we hardly ever saw each other out of work, we had these different lifestyles.

"Dave, you doing anything for lunch?"

"I've got to buy Maddy a birthday card. It's her birthday on Monday. Other than that, no, nothing. Why, you fancying a small half?" 

"Who's Maddy?" I asked, although I should have known. It was his latest conquest. She apparently moved in a week ago. Another poor girl in the long line of recruits to the battalions of Dave's ex's, only she doesn't know it yet.

Rather than the pub, I wanted to walk in the fresh air. First it was more private, second, I didn't feel like eating or drinking. So I suggested that we went into town, we could get Maddy's card and a sandwich for Dave, and then we could stroll along the river. Dave, who was used to my eccentricities still looked a little askance at this suggestion. But if that's what his boss wanted to do...

Once we had done the little bit of shopping and had walked along the river bank to an empty seat provided by someone for others to sit and enjoy the view, I told Dave the full story. I found it easier than I had imagined. He was sympathetic, but there was little he could say or do. I knew that he would cover for me if work got a little demanding when I wasn't there or able to take up the strain. I didn't exactly swear him to secrecy, but I did imply that he should be fairly discrete with what he knew, at least for a few days.

Strolling back to the office Dave asked if he could change the subject. I was rather pleased that he did. He wanted to know what was going on with the ITP contract. Apparently the whole ITP team were very nervous but not saying a word, they must know something. I couldn't enlighten him. I told him about my lunch with Perry, but that didn't add much to our pool of understanding. He told me that Perry had eventually phoned in sick. I wasn't surprised when I thought about how much he had drunk yesterday. I told Dave about the call I'd received for a lunch at ITP. Neither of us could explain it. I think both of us worried that Perry was going to rearrange the department so that we were all working on saving his project, at the detriment to our own and our clients. I could only say I'd fight it.

As we walked through the office doors I saw Beth sitting in a visitor's chair in Reception. Dave disappeared in a puff of smoke! I looked at her, she stood up and looked at me. Neither of us said a word. The iceberg just landed in my chest, but it didn't freeze the raging tumult in my stomach. I turned to the Receptionist "Is the Conference Room free?" She nodded, not wanting to say a word either, probably recognising that something was going on, she just didn't know what.

I opened the Conference Room door, and waited for Beth to go in. I caught a whiff of her perfume as she passed me, she wasn't missing a trick. She was casually but sexily dressed, as white as a sheet and with sunglasses to hide what must have been very red eyes. Once we were inside, we naturally took positions at opposite ends of the long conference table, neither of us sat down. 

I looked at her "Yes?"

"Please Tim, don't throw me out. Where am I to go? How can we talk this through if I'm sent away? Please...Tim..."

"I don't really care where you go. I guess your parents are the obvious choice. They aren't too far away, you could get back for your work, and you only have to visit that once or twice a week, and rarely in rush hour. But it's up to you. I just don't want you there when I get in tonight." I surprised myself with the reasonableness of my answer. Not one bit of shouting. Not one swear word.

"What are you going to do? We have to talk. I have to convince you how sorry I am. To make you realise that it will never, ever happen again. Please Tim, don't throw away so much that we had."

"I'm not throwing anything away. You threw it away. I'm just tidying up afterwards." I got real bitterness into my voice as I said that. I think I scored a hit with that one. Then I relented a little, "Look, if we try to talk now I will want to hurt you, to make you feel the hurt I'm feeling right now. I don't know whether its hate or contempt I feel, but it's not conducive to civilised discussion. If you want to talk you've got to wait until I'm ready to listen." I turned to leave, there was nothing more to be said, or so I thought.

As I got to the door she blurted out "I'm not a lying cheating slut. And don't you ever call me that again. I have never lied to you. I never cheated you of anything, I loved you and thoroughly enjoyed making love with you, always. And I'm not a slut. Except for Ken, I've been with no man since I started going steady with you ten years ago. I am not a lying cheating slut."

That stopped me in my tracks for a moment. But then I just kept walking. 

Dave watched me come into the department. He came over "Are you OK?" 

"Yes, sure." I lied.

I'm not sure how I got through the rest of the afternoon, but I did. There was one bright spot when Charlie came passed my desk, "I had lunch with Rose today. I don't know whether you know, but she works part time at Symmonds & Burtons, the agents in the High Street. I told her a little of your story, I hope you don't mind, she will be very discrete. She tells me that she has a one bedroom flat, new to the market coming on in about a week's time. She suggested that you might like it. It's a bit of a special case, it's a private family down by River Mead, they are having major work done on their house, and they want someone to live in the new conversion above the garage whilst the builders are there, as they are living in rented accommodation on the other side of town. There's a fifty percent reduction in the rent for the first year."

I was busy trying to remember where River Mead was, and then I remembered, it was down by the River! Actually, in quite a convenient and nice part of town. I hadn't given any thought to where I was going to live, but this might be the answer. So "I could be interested." I replied.

"Well Rose's suggestion is that she collects you from your house at about five tomorrow afternoon. She'll take you to see it, the owners will be there so you can meet them, and then she can bring you back to our house for supper. If its late afternoon, you can be her last appointment for the day. Say, if you have other plans."

I was taken aback by the kindness. "Well, I haven't the faintest idea what I'm doing this weekend. I guess it's the weekend for moping, and crying, and being generally emotional. I doubt whether I'll be very good company. Are you sure?"

"Yes, Rose loves a broken heart. I told you, that's her speciality. Look, if when you get in tonight things change, or even tomorrow, just phone me or Rose. We'll understand. Here's Rose's card, then you'll be able to get her if you need to. Otherwise, I'll see you tomorrow."

Not long after that, Dave came up again. "Some of us are going over the road for a quick one after work. I doubt whether you'll fancy it, but I didn't want to cut you out."

I didn't fancy it, but I fancied going home even less. "Yes, I'll come. Anything that makes sure Beth's had enough time to get out of there. I'll see you at close of play" I glanced at my watch. It was already passed five o'clock.

"Well if you're coming, let's go now. We'll beat the rush. And I don't want to be late for Maddy, I can't get enough of that body." He suddenly looked at me with concern. "Oh, sorry. I guess you don't need to hear about rampant sex at the moment."

"Don't worry. I do know the rest of the world is still turning. It's only my bit that has stood still, frozen in time. OK let's go." I headed for the door. "Aren't the rest coming?"

"They'll follow. Someone has discovered a website with a cartoon of George Bush and Tony Blair doing things to each other that I am sure are illegal in many parts of the world."

"I said I didn't mind hearing about other people's sex lives, but there is a limit!" It was the first time that day that I think I had given a normal, light-hearted reply. It felt good. It also reminded me that although I had just said that my world was frozen in time, it wasn't. Even for me things were moving on.

Dave and myself made small talk and minor gossip in the pub. He drank beer, I drank Coke; I thought the sugar and caffeine might do some good. And I certainly couldn't face beer. Dave sunk his pint, and let me buy him another one. That one he took a bit slower. I reminded him that he needed to get back to his Maddy. He looked at my hardly touched Coke and said there was no rush. Eventually I managed to drink most of it, with Dave protecting me from the cheerful banter of the rest of the TGI crowd. Dave looked at me and asked if it was alright if he headed for the delights of Maddy. "Sure" I said, and he left. 

He must have passed Alice in the doorway. She got herself a drink and came over. "Hi, how's you?"

"Just leaving" I said. And left.

As I drove home I could feel real fear growing inside of me. I was scared she'd still be there. I couldn't face her. This afternoon in the office she had taken me unawares, and I coped, although I had found it difficult. To calmly walk in to our home, no not home anymore, just house, and meet her would be too much.

As I pulled into the drive I noted that her car was not there. I opened the front door quietly. It was totally silent. I went into the kitchen. It was empty, but there was one sheet of lilac notepaper on the table, with "I LOVE YOU" written right across it and the single rose in a stem vase beside it. I went into the sitting room. It was cold and empty. Not the warm friendly room that Beth and I had tried to create. I sat down and turned on the television. There was a couple shouting at each other. I turned off the television. I looked round, and then the little table in the alcove caught my eye. On it were our photographs. Of our wedding day. Of our graduation. Of this house as a wreck when we moved in. Of our honeymoon. My whole life was there.

Suddenly, I cried and cried and cried.

Eventually I stopped crying and for some reason, I don't know why, I went upstairs. I went into our bedroom. It seemed even more empty than the sitting room. I opened Beth's wardrobe to see if she had taken all her clothes. She had taken a lot of them, but there were still plenty there. And they smelled of her and her perfume. I held a dress to my face. And I cried.

I collapsed onto the bed and I cried. I wanted her back. The tears kept coming. I wanted to shout at her. I cried and I cried. I wanted to shake her and make her feel my hurt. I didn't seem able to stop crying. I wanted her back in this house where she belonged. My throat and face hurt from the crying. I wanted her to realise just what she'd done. The tears just went on and on. I wanted to kiss her and hold her just once more. And I cried. I wanted to wake up and find that this was all a ghastly dream. The tears were making the bed wet. I wanted to go back far enough that I could put right whatever silly notion had made her do this terrible thing. And I couldn't. It was too late.



TGI Chronicles Pt. 1 Ch. 03



I must have fallen asleep for a while once my crying had subsided. I came to and the bedside clock said it was a quarter to one. I just kicked off my shoes and slid under the duvet. I woke up next at quarter past seven as a crumpled heap. 

I sat up in bed and found I had a pounding headache. I went down to the kitchen, purposely ignoring the love note and rose on the table, knowing I was trying not to look at them. I put the kettle on for a cup of tea and looked for the paracetamol. I swallowed two tablets, dry. When the kettle boiled I made a pot of tea and sat down. Bravely I pushed the note and flower to one side. 

I poured myself a cup of tea, and thought the teapot was far too big for one person. I guess I'm going to have to get a smaller one. It never seemed too big when Beth had been away on business, or that time when she went to stay with her parents. She'd gone, with my encouragement, when they were so upset that her brother Stephen had come out as being gay. I don't thing the homosexuality had upset George and Mary as much as the possible pink lifestyle, as they imagined it, and the certainty of no grandchildren from Stephen. I stared at the teapot, is this what my life is going to be like? A series of little things constantly reminding me of what I've lost, of what I once had. Oh I hope not.

Then I pondered my long hours of sleep. That was a surprise. I didn't expect a good night's sleep for weeks or months or maybe never again. And then on the very first night I had hours of dreamless sleep. Was my collapse into total crying and sobbing a cathartic period that will let me move on, and at least sleep at night? Or was it just the result of mental and physical exhaustion, and that it will be troubled nights from here on in? I guess I'll find out.

My head was still hurting. I thought it's a little late to have a hangover from Thursday's lunch with Perry. Maybe its stress. Then some inner voice said, 'or maybe its hunger!' I thought about that. I don't think I'd eaten a thing since Thursday breakfast, and that was only two slices of toast. My last real meal was on Wednesday night. Yes, my headache could be hunger, I answered that inner voice.

I looked at what was in the fridge. Not a lot. No surprise, Friday night is shopping night. Often we meet Phil and Denny there, and can, if no one's bought anything frozen that needs to be got back to the freezer, have a Chinese or Indian with them. 

Phil is my best friend. We were at university together, although he was training as a vet, a long way from my mathematics course. But we were both cricketers and became firm friends. He was my best man when I married Beth. There she is again, she comes into every one of my trains of thought. Anyway, Phil had a girlfriend, Denny. She was in Beth's year, but I don't think they knew each other very well. Then they got married. Then they came to stay here for a weekend just after we moved in, and they loved the place. Six month's later Phil had got himself the job of junior vet at the local practice. Slowly, over the years, Beth and Denny have got to become very close friends as well. So we make, or made, a happy foursome.

I would phone him this morning, but it was still a bit early for that. I poured another cup of tea, and put some bread in the toaster. It wasn't much to eat, but better than nothing, and I didn't feel like searching out food from the freezer, or cooking for that matter. 

After my meagre breakfast I went for a stroll round the garden. The fresh air was good. Then that bloody rose came into view. I walked up to it. I swung my foot back. I swung it forward with the full intention of kicking the bloody thing so hard it would enter the earth's orbit. But then I had second thoughts and tried to stop my swinging foot. I ended up flat on my back. But what was the point of taking my anger out on a rose bush? It had never done me any harm. I got up and laughed at myself.

I went and had a shower, a shave and a change of clothes. I felt better for doing so. Afterwards, I went into the sitting room. It was no happier a place than it had been the night before. I determinedly turned every photograph on the little alcove table over so they lay face down. That was better. 

Then I did nothing.

I thought lots of dark and evil thoughts. Revenge? Murder? Contract Killing? Maybe just a little gentle maiming? Maybe have her raped?

I forced myself to think civilised thoughts. I wondered if there was a way back for me and Beth. Maybe she wouldn't want one. I wanted one, but didn't think it was possible. 

Then the questions started to arrive. Had she lied? She said she had never lied to me. But surely that story about Thursday afternoon was lies? Why hadn't I noticed? Surely she would have shown some signs of her new lifestyle? Who had started it, him or her? Had he used his money to tempt her? Was the business trip to Rhodes really a business opportunity, or a chance for a holiday together? Had she delayed coming off the pill because of Ken or because she really did doubt about having a family? I wonder what went on in Ken and Jean's life? I wonder what will happen to them now? I wonder how Beth's parents will react? I think they grew to be rather fond of me, I guess their daughter's behaviour will be a bit of a shock.

Eventually, I thought it a respectable time to phone Phil. I used his cell phone number. He answered promptly.. "Hi Tim. I'm glad you phoned. You should know that Beth is here."

"Oh, she went to you did she? I thought she'd go to her parents."

"She will if I've got anything to do with it. I don't know what's going on between you two, but I don't want anyone to think we are taking sides. I think Denny felt obliged last night, but she agrees with me, she's got to move on this morning."

"I don't blame you, and I promise you, I don't think your taking sides. Or not yet anyway. I just wanted to ask if you're around at lunchtime."

"Er, let me think. Yes, I can be. I've got the Saturday morning surgery to do, but that's really 'emergencies only'. So I'll be free by twelve easily. Where?"

"How about the Magpie?"

"You've got to be joking. Make it the Red Lion and you're on."

"Red Lion it is then. Twelve. See ya."

---

I arrived early at the Red Lion. Ordered myself a glass of red wine. I don't normally drink wine in pubs, but I wanted to remain very sober for this flat viewing and Charlie and Rose, and I could make a glass of wine last a lot longer than a pint of beer. 

Phil arrived not long after I'd sat down. I stood up and got him a pint. We both sat down and looked at each other in silence. 

Eventually I spoke, "What did she tell you?"

"Not much. You two have been having problems. It all blew up yesterday morning and you suddenly called her a lot of nasty names and threw her out without even talking to her properly."

"That's all?"

"Yeah, basically. We got back from the supermarket at about nine, and there she was, sitting in her car, all upset and in tears, saying you'd thrown her out. We got her inside, and then it was an evening of whispered conversations in the kitchen between Denny and myself as to what we were going to do with this wreck in the living room. I've never seen her like it, I don't think I've ever seen any woman like it. She was so upset. Denny said we couldn't throw her out. I said we had to get her to go back to you, I offered to phone you which set her off again. In the end she slept in the spare bedroom. She wasn't up by the time I left for surgery, but Denny is under strict orders to get her off to her parents by lunchtime."

"Will she go?"

"Looking at the state of her last night, I wonder whether she will be fit to drive. I said to Denny, maybe we should call her father to come and collect her. Why won't you have her back? You can't sort whatever it is out long distance."

"I'll talk to her in good time, but not for a few days. I think we both need some time to calm down and think things through."

"Well, you two do seem to have got yourselves into a right old pickle, as my Mum would say." 

He drank a large part of his pint in one go. I was just sitting staring at nothing in particular. Then I realised I was staring at a couple at the corner table. They were youngish, he on one side of the table, she on the other. Just drinking and chatting. Then it struck me. A eureka moment. 

"Phil, what are that couple in the corner doing?"

He glanced round briefly. "They're drinking. This is a pub you know."

"Yes, smarty pants, I know that. What else are they doing?"

He looked round a bit longer this time, but the couple didn't notice us looking at them. "My guess is they're flirting, why?"

"Exactly. I know they're flirting. You know they're flirting. Yet, if we were in a witness box, all we could say is they are a couple sitting on opposite sides of a pub table. She seems to have an OJ. He's got a pint, about half drunk. She's sitting fairly upright, her legs tucked together and to one side. He's lounging back with his legs straight out in front of him. They seem to be talking amicably. Right?"

"Yes, I suppose so. She might be drinking a screwdriver."

"True. But we know they're flirting. Its all in the body language."

"Yes, I suppose so. Why?"

"Nothing. Just something that's been troubling me for a couple of days."

Phil stood up, "Do you want another glass of red wine to cuddle? Or are you going to drink that one?"

"No get yourself one, but leave me out."

While Phil was away at the bar, I pondered Beth's lack of telling Phil and Denny the whole truth. Maybe she was too upset. Maybe she wasn't prepared to tell her best friend what she had been up to. What I didn't like...no what I really hated.. was the suggestion that somehow this was a sort of mutual fault, that I was partly to blame, that I was the bad guy that called her names and threw her out quite unreasonably. I was going to put that right. And sooner rather than later.

When Phil came back from the bar with his pint and a packet of salted peanuts, I asked him "Phil, can I tell you something without it getting back to Denny or Beth. I don't want to put her on the spot."

"Yes. Partly. And you won't."

"Pardon?"

"Yes you can tell me something, but it will get back to Denny, and no it won't get back to Beth if you don't want it to. And you won't put Denny, or me for that matter, on the spot. Denny and I discussed this possibility over breakfast. We talked of little else, except for the two hours last night trying to guess what's up between you two. Anyway, we have decided that whatever you or Beth tell me or Denny will be shared between us. What we will do, however, is promise that it goes no further from either of us. We are not going to carry messages or play piggy in the middle."

"Oh.! I see. Actually I don't blame you. It sounds good sense to me. Well done. I'll try to respect that."

"You won't have an option. Do you want some peanuts?" He held out the packet, ready to shake some into my hand.

"No thanks." I said, and actually took a sip of my wine.

Phil was a good friend and so was Denny, but I'd changed my mind, I won't tell them the truth yet. I think I prefer that Beth tells them. Let's see if she can be totally honest for once. That led me to my next train of thought, "Do you think Beth always tells the truth?"

"Good question. Yes and no."

"Elaborate." I sat back to listen, I knew Phil would give me a full answer to an open question like that.

"Well, one of the wonderful things about Beth, one of the things I really like, is that she is always so positive. She always finds the nice thing to say. If we give her something to eat that really she hates, when asked she'll say 'The sauce was nice' or 'I loved what you did with the potatoes'. She'll find a way out of an awkward question with a good, positive comment. I guess it's her professional training. Her job is to put a good spin on things, that's why their spin doctors."

"So your saying that she doesn't answer the question, but she doesn't lie?"

Phil took another handful of peanuts, then he turned the packet over and became engrossed in the back of it. I was about to remind him that I'd just asked a question when he looked up. "Its like this packet of peanuts. It says on the front '15% less fat.' Less than what might be a good question. Less than this brand was last week I guess. But, I've just looked it up. They are nearly 50% fat by weight. They are full of salt, and yes, they've got lots of protein in them. But, anyone seeing this packet is meant to believe 'Hey, these peanuts are good and healthy for me. I know they are full of protein, but now they've taken away the unhealthy fat. I'll have some of those' In fact they are salt laden, oil rich heart attacks in a packet, but that isn't such a good slogan." He stopped and looked at me. "But they do taste nice" he said as he emptied the remaining few nuts into his mouth.

I sat quietly, thinking about what he had said, and took another sip of wine.

He waited for me to respond, and when I didn't, he went on, "Look, Beth is very professional in her job, I suspect she is really good at it. She has to respond with the accurate, truthful best case under tremendous stress sometimes. She has to stand up at press conferences, sometime with the cameras rolling, and the '15% less fat' answer has to roll off the tongue as if it is the complete and only fact about these peanuts that's worth reporting. And I bet she does it bloody well. Don't knock her for it. Be proud."

We sat in silence and he finished his second pint. 

"Your thirsty today." I observed "Do you want another one?"

He stared at his empty glass for some moments. "I guess its nerves, I was quite..." he searched for the word "...concerned... about what I would find when I walked in here this morning."

"You shouldn't have been. You should know that I wasn't going to scream or shout. Well not at you, anyway."

"I was thinking back as I drove here. You nursed me through being dumped by the love of my life several times before I found Denny. I don't think I ever had to do that for you, ever."

I thought for a moment "You're probably right. The only time I was really dumped, and it was from a great height, was in the long vac, and you weren't around.. Well?"

"Well what?"

"Do you want another pint?"

"Only if you can drive me home. I can then pick up my car later."

"I'll take that as a Yes then." I stood up and went to the bar. When I got back with his pint, Phil was missing. I expected him to return from the direction of the Gents. He came in the front door again. "Where have you been?"

"Talking to Denny. I hate phoning from the bar, it isn't fair on everyone else. She's got Beth off to her parents. Apparently it was only the threat of Denny phoning her father to collect her that made her go though."

"Oh."

"So, Denny is coming down here. She just wants to see you. To inspect you I think. But she's taking a taxi down so you won't have to give me a lift home. I hope that's OK?"

I wasn't sure I wanted to see Denny, not just yet. But it looked like I wasn't going to get an option. "Sure, I'm always pleased to see Denny."

"Liar."

"The only time I'm not is when I have to deliver you back home pissed. She always blames me. And she can be quite frightening to a simple lad like me."

He let that pass. I suddenly realised I was hungry. I guess talking to an old friend had relaxed me enough to actually let me feel my body for the first time in days. "When she gets here, perhaps we could have something to eat."

"That's what you'll miss. No home cooking."

We made small talk until Denny arrived. Then we ordered some food. Denny kept giving me and Phil questioning looks, but beyond saying how sorry she was that Beth and myself were having problems, and how she was sure it would all blow over, nothing more of importance was said. We finished our meal, and left with kisses and hugs in the car park. For them to show sympathy I guess.

I drove home. I was pleased that I had broken the ice with Phil and Denny. Maybe especially Denny. I had known I would have no problem with Phil, he was too old and trusted a friend. But Denny was a woman, and really she was Beth's friend. Two reasons that had made me wonder how she would treat me. Another hurdle over.

The house remained a dismal reminder. As I went into the hall, for the first time I noticed that it smelled of a home I had once known. A home with a happy married couple living there. Pity it wasn't one now.

I went upstairs and showered again. I'd heard, somewhere, that some women, after they've been raped, wash and scrub themselves time after time, trying to wash away the rape. Maybe I felt a bit like that, dirty, sullied. I don't know. I just know that I wanted to shower.

Not long after that Rose phoned to say that it was a very quiet day at Symmonds & Burtons, could she bring our appointment forward? I was happy to do so, and within fifteen minutes I was getting into her car. Rose was one of those instantly likeable people. Bubbly and fun, but with a strong current of sensitivity. You know your in safe hands, but there will be some jokes along the way. Almost before we were out of my drive she tackled THE subject, "Sorry to hear about what has brought you to look for a flat, Tim."

"It wasn't your fault. I'm grateful that you thought of me with this one."

"Well, I used to be a reconciliation counsellor. My advice is to think hard before you do anything. Quick decisions have a habit of coming back at you and biting."

"I'm beginning to realise that already."

"Why? What have you done."

"Yesterday I threw Beth out. It was an angry, instant response. But I now realise it was a mistake."

"Well, I expect you can put it right. Have you talked to her?"

"Oh! No! I don't mean that I regret us splitting. I hate it, but I still think that that was the right thing to do. But I wanted to throw her out, I wanted to make her be inconvenienced. Why should I move when I've done nothing wrong? Or that's what I thought. But it means that I'm the one that is living surrounded by everything from our life together. There are memories wherever I look, with whatever I touch. She's back in the safe neutral ground of her parents. She should be suffering the pain of our house as an empty shell. She should understand what she's done."

"I am sure she is learning that fast. Don't worry, she'll be suffering. Unless she was mentally out of the marriage already?"

I didn't answer. That idea raised horrid thoughts. We sat in silence for the rest of the way.

River Mead is a wide 19th century avenue that runs down to the river, parallel to the High Street. It's made up of large, detached houses. The road, when it gets to the river, turns sharp right into a small lane that follows the river for a while, and then cuts back to the High Street. Trafalgar House was the large house on that corner, next to the river and with the little lane going up its side. There was a large, nearly new Range Rover in the drive. The house was a building site, with scaffolding partially covering it and piles of sand and boards around. To the river side of the house was a tall thin two story building, with a garage door at the road end. It would create a generously double length garage. Attached to it, on the river side was a single story flat roofed garage that also seemed to run the double length. The other side wall of this extension garage made the boundary wall of the property, onto the little riverside lane. There was some iron work on this flat roofed bit, probably to soften the sharp contrast of flat roof and the two story original building. Between the side of the house and the garage block was a wide passageway. I noticed that neither the house or garage block had any windows facing out onto this area. However on the blank brink wall of the garage was an attractive wrought iron staircase that led up to a little iron work porch with a single door into the top floor. I assumed this was into the flat.




TGI Chronicles Pt. 1 Ch. 03



Rose led the way. At the top of the stairway she reached into her handbag and pulled out a door key and opened the door. We entered. Suddenly we were in a different world, a modern, totally white apartment. There was a little hallway that ran to the left and right of the door. Slightly toward the front, but opposite was a door into what was obviously small kitchen. Rose led the way. It was all brand new, and with fridge freezer, hob, oven and wash-dryer, and plenty of fitted cupboards. The window, opposite the door was above the sink and seemed to look out over the river. I looked round. It wasn't spacious, but it was all there.

Rose waited for me and then led on into the main living room. This was far larger than I expected. But then I guess garages are larger when empty and used for furniture and living than they look with a car and stored paraphernalia. The room was again white, but with a light wood floor, a couple of bright rugs. A sofa and couple of easy chairs grouped around a log burner stove; a dining table and chairs for four in the kitchen corner, and two sideboards and a book case. The whole room was bright, cheerful and modern. What took my eye were the windows. A large one in the end wall, over-looking the front drive, and two sets of French doors in the riverside wall. I walked over and then realised there was a roof terrace built on the whole flat roof of the garage below, running the whole length of the building, surrounded by an ornamental safety rail. I opened the door and walked out. Below me was the little lane, but one's eye automatically went to the river. A wonderful view, and as far as I could see not overlooked by anyone except the riverside apartments on the far bank.

I came back in, and smiled at Rose. "I'm beginning to be very impressed." We went down the hallway to find a small complete bathroom next to the kitchen.. In the bath there was a window blind, obviously waiting to be fitted. On the windowsill was a bathroom wall cabinet, also waiting to be put up. We went on into the large bedroom that mirrored the living room, but a bit smaller. A brand new double bed, the mattress still wrapped in polythene. Bedside cupboards, and chest of drawers and two large fitted wardrobes along the bathroom wall completed the furnishings. Again a pair of French doors led onto the roof terrace. The curtains lay across the bed, still not hung. 

I looked at Rose. "I love it." 

Just at that point there were voices outside, obviously coming up the stairs. Then a toddler ran into the room. Stopped. Looked at myself and Rose with complete shock on his or her face. The face crumpled and tears began with the toddler turning tail and running out going "Mumma...Mumma.." I was concerned. Rose burst out laughing. 

Rose looked at me and saw the concern on my face. "Don't worry. That's par for the course at that age." We followed the child back into the hall. There we found a man on his hands and knees cuddling the toddler, a very attractive woman of about my age with a tray in her hands with four steaming mugs of tea and a supermarket bag, and a little boy of about four peeping at us from behind her.

"Tim, let me introduce you to Mr and Mrs Chapman. This is Tim Williams."

I looked up and smiled. "Hi, I'm Sue" said Mrs Chapman "I'm sorry I can't shake your hand. I've brought some tea and doughnuts."

"That's very kind of you, you really didn't have to." I was surprised at her kind welcome.

"Its not as kind as it might look. They were selling them off, six for fifteen pence. They obviously over-doughnutted in the bakery department. Oh. This is my husband, Freddy. And that's Kimberley or Kim and the one that's about to try pulling my jeans off is Jonathon or Jon. Let's go and sit down." She led the way into the living room.

Freddy stood up, with the little girl cuddled into him, sort of sitting on his right arm and her face buried into his neck. He was a few years older than me, but pleasant looking. "Sorry, I can't shake your hand properly either" He held out his left hand, which I shook in that awkward twisted, doesn't feel right way.

We all went into the living room, Sue was still standing there with the tray in her hands, looking round. "We need to buy a coffee table for this room." She said to no one in particular.

"No we don't." responded Freddy. "Let the tenant's have some freedom and choice." And save yourself the money I thought. Sue put the tray down on the dining table and handed out the mugs of tea. Sue and Freddy sat on the sofa, myself and Rose sat in the chairs. Freddy put Kim down, and she immediately started to climb towards her mother, who picked her up and tucked her into her lap without thought. Jon started running up and down, slapping his feet on the wood floor to maximise the noise. 

Freddy called him over. The little boy stood looking at his father. "Jon, do you like your new sandals?"

"Yes."

"Then please don't make me take them back to the shop because they are too noisy."

Jon looked at his father, then turned and crept off with an exaggerated tip toe gait, smiling conspiratorially at me. 

"Make yourself useful, Jon, why don't you pass round the doughnuts?" Suggested Sue, which he immediately did, politely visiting each adult in turn and holding out the open bag. When we had all taken our ones, he hopefully looked at his mother. "Yes, take one for yourself."

"Well," said Freddy "Shall I start to tell you a little about us and the apartment."

At the end of the conversation I knew that they had just returned from three years working in the US for a Swiss-US bank, and that Freddy had come here to work for the Wagon Laboratories, which were (apparently) a subsidiary of the bank. They had bought Trafalgar House, but it needed huge amounts of restoration work to be done. They were living in a rented house on the other side of town, provided by the bank. They had started the conversion by creating this apartment, because it would give them some rent income and meant that someone was living on site whilst they weren't. They were now looking for a tenant who was probably male, as girls were unlikely to want to live on a building site for months, but who was young enough to fit in with them, but old enough to be sensible and mature. To achieve that they would reduce the rent by half for as long as the builders were around.

I told them something about myself. Where I worked, how long I'd lived in the town, which university and the rest of the stuff. I swiftly glossed over, as quickly as I could, that I was looking to rent somewhere because I was splitting up with my wife. I must have done a pretty good job of that bit, and hidden my sensitivity well, because later when I remarked that I could bring some cushions from our guest room that would go well on this living room sofa, Sue cheerfully nudged her husband in the ribs and said "A man who's straight, but cares about soft furnishings. Your ex must be mad to let you go. I'll divorce Freddy and marry you." I laughed with the rest of them. It's surprising how quickly we learn to put a social face on our personal pain.

Freddy told me that they had called the apartment "Blindside", as neither it nor the house had any windows facing each other, and it seemed a good name, with its oblique reference to Nelson.. So it was Blindside, Trafalgar House, River Mead. I liked it, and said so.

"Good, 'cos that's the name we've registered with the Post Office and utilities, so there's nothing you can do about it, anyway." Said Freddy.

I left with Rose, without comment as to whether I would actually take the flat or not. But then they didn't say whether they wanted me as their tenant or not.

---

As I got into Rose's car I was deep in thought. Rose did not say a word for several minutes. Then she quietly asked "Too soon?"

"Yes. It's a lovely apartment. I love it, and in some ways it's exactly what I need. It's so completely different from my house. But that's its problem. If I move into there, I think I'll be starting a new life. Leaving Beth behind. Does that make sense?" 

She glanced round at me, and put out her hand onto my thigh for a second. "Yes. Look, you don't have to take it. Don't throw away a good marriage because you like some interior décor."

"But if myself and Beth are to really split, then I'd hate to lose it." We fell into silence. 

Eventually, as we drove through a classy residential area of large houses, I guessed we were getting near Rose and Charlie's home. We pulled into the drive of a large attractive mock Tudor house, with immaculate gardens. As we got out of the car I was anxious to finish this official business with Rose before we entered her home and I was making conversation with Charlie. "Do you think they would let me make a deposit and delay my decision for a couple of weeks?" 

Rose stopped looking for her front door key, and turned to me, "I could try. I think I might have to tell them a little of why you might want a delay. I'll try to be discrete and tell them no more than I have to. Are you okay with that? Do you want me to try."

She opened the door as I answered, "Yes"

We found Charlie sitting in the garden, doing the crossword in his paper. I joined him and sat down. He asked about the flat and I told him that I loved it, but was scared to push my life this fast, and that I had suggested that Rose may be able to negotiate a delay. Just then I heard a phone ringing and looked at Charlie, expecting him to leave to answer it.

"Don't worry, Rose will get that. I hope she'll get a bottle of wine and bring it out as well, I could do with a drink and I'm sure you could."

Sure enough, Rose appeared from the house a few minutes later carrying a bottle of white wine and some glasses. "That was Freddy Chapman. They are keen on you."

"Did you tell them I was keen and suggest my idea of giving them a deposit but having a bit of a delay?"

"No, I didn't tell them anything. I said you were just thinking about things." She looked at me smugly.

"Why not? I don't want it going to anyone else, and certainly not without trying to get it."

"Because I was talking to Freddy. He's committed to getting a tenant to sign up immediately for a year's lease. With all the normal get out clauses of course, he can't avoid those. All I did was build you up a bit, make sure he knew what a reliable person you were, how I knew you'd be a good tenant."

"But why didn't you tell them I would take it if they'll give me some flexibility up front?"

"Because Freddy won't like giving you that flexibility. He's got a huge building job on with his house. It must be costing him a fortune. I guess he wants that flat leased off to the right person, on a long lease. That way there's some money coming in and its one problem solved. He wouldn't want to know about delays. So I built you up, so that he'll want you even more. Then, in about an hour's time I'll phone her. I'll just happen to have left their home number and Freddy's number in the office, but I'll have hers. I'll be sure that they would want to hear from me before Monday when I'm in the office, so I'm sure she'll excuse me phoning her. I'll have heard from you by then, about how really keen you are, but, in the circumstances, you need a bit of a delay. I'll tell her a little bit about your problem. By the time I've finished every maternal instinct in her will be on your side. She'll convince Freddy, who by then will be desperate that you take it. Let Sue get you your flexibility."

"And they say business is a man's world!" uttered Charlie.

At that point a young man in his early twenties came out of the house. He saw me and immediately approached with his hand out. "Hi, I'm Simon." 

I introduced myself, and we shook hands.

"Are you eating with us dear?" asked his mother "And if you want a drink you'll have to get yourself a glass."

"No thanks. I came to see if I could borrow the car, please Mum?"

"Yes, the keys are on the kitchen table. Is this Maddy again?"

My ears pricked up; "No. Maddy and me are cooling it. She's got something going with some older guy. I think he's got a bit of a reputation. I don't like him, bit slimy if you ask me. But, of course, he's got his own car and a flat and things. Paupers like me don't stand a chance."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. I thought you were quite keen on Maddy."

"Well, she's still coming with me to Paul's wedding next weekend. Maybe she'll realise what she's missing by then." Simon went off, waving his hand to Charlie and myself, and giving his mother a kiss as he passed.

Charlie turned to Rose, "I can't say I'm sorry. I wasn't too keen on Maddy."

"I never thought she had a lot up top." remarked Rose.

"Oh, I thought she had quite a lot up top." Charlie gave an exaggerated leer and winked at me.

"I meant fifteen inches higher than you were thinking. And anyway, middle aged fathers lusting over their son's girlfriends is slightly distasteful. Keep those comments to the golf club please."

"That's the trouble. We don't have lady golfers like Maddy. They're all middle aged and not quite as attractive. I suppose Maddy couldn't play golf, she wouldn't be able to see the ball when she's putting." Again he smiled at me.

"Why do you think I let you play golf?"

This happy exchange of two people, sure in their relationship and commitment to each other, was a two edged sword to me. It was good to hear how warm and safe a life Charlie had after his bad start. But it was also a reminder of what I used to have with Beth, what I wanted and what I had lost.

We sat on the terrace drinking our wine (although Rose was mixing hers with mineral water) and chatted about families and a little office gossip for some time. Then Rose said it was time to phone Sue Chapman. I followed her indoors and stood watching her make the call. After some long pauses when I guess there was some talking going on at the other end, Rose gave me the thumbs up sign. She had got me a delay, at the cost of a possible wasted month's rent, I needn't make up my mind until the 14th July, which gave me over three weeks to decide the immediate future of my marriage.

The evening was pleasant. We eat well, but on very traditional food. Rose thought I could probably do with a good home cooked meal. We kept chatting about everything and nothing for the evening. I realised I was in an entirely safe environment. I could talk about Beth if I wanted, I could cry if I needed, Charlie and Rose would have coped. And precisely because I was safe and I could, I didn't need to. Emotions are funny things.

Rose drove me home not long after eleven o'clock.

---

I couldn't sleep that night. For the first time I was plagued with sexual images of Beth and Ken. Ken was not fat, but even so I imagined him, pasty white, the signs of a middle aged paunch, maybe the hint of saggy man breasts. Grey hairs on his chest? On his back? 

This was in contrast to my beautiful, sexy Beth. Tanned, slim, firm full breasts. The flare of her hips, her light brown pussy hair which she always kept trimmed into a neat triangle, but was now shaved down to just a thin landing strip above bald pussy lips. That had been a bit of sexual fun a couple of month's ago on my birthday. I had shaved her. But she had encouraged me, I couldn't remember who had suggested it. Had she come up with the idea? Was I just the agent for some sexual request from Ken? 

With that thought, in those grim night hours, I felt a shift in my emotions. The dominance of anger gave way to hate. And that was unhealthy. That was what she had done to me. But thinking like that was the way of lifelong bitterness and loneliness. I had to get control of my thinking before it was too late. 

To Be Continued...



TGI Chronicles Pt. 1 Ch. 04



Chapter 04: Too Late

Sunday started better than Saturday had finished. I woke up, determined to be positive. But the day went down hill fast.

I wallowed in self-pity. I tortured myself with thoughts of Ken and Beth. Maybe I should go to Spain and take out my anger on Ken. No, that was Jean's job.

I thought 'do some cooking, Tim, you've got to eat properly, and learning to cook would be a start.' I burnt my fingers getting a casserole out of the oven. It tasted bloody awful.

It took me ages trying to get the washing machine to work on half-load. In the end I gave up and did three shirts as if they were a full load.

I went to the supermarket. I gave up on the cooking idea, only for a week or two of course, until I get adjusted, then I'll get back to it. So I bought loads of microwave meals for one. Then I felt bitterly ashamed and embarrassed as I waited to check-out. I felt everyone in the shop need only look at my trolley to know that I was a cuckolded husband.

The only bright spot was that Phil phoned in the evening. Just checking on how I was. But he was kind, and he let me talk about Beth and how much I missed her. Even in my misery, and even when talking to my best friend, with whom I should be honest, I made sure that he got no real idea of the true story of Beth and Ken from me. I didn't like that, but let her feel the shame of telling them.

I went to bed thinking that maybe that was my revenge. Making her have to be honest with everyone on what a bitch she really was. She wouldn't like that.

But she got her own back in the small hours, haunting me with images of her and that bastard.

---

Monday wasn't bad. 

I was greeted at work by Dave. As soon as he came in he put his head round my door, just to make sure I was OK (or maybe checking that I was there at all).

I began to realise that I probably was way off key with everybody on Friday, but no one said anything. I guessed that Dave had said enough for everyone to at least respect my privacy. Everyone that is except Stella, Perry's secretary. She came by my desk with a pained look on her face "I'm so sorry to hear about you and Beth. We've worked together for so long, Tim, I remember you joining as a junior analyst all those years ago. So, if there's anything I can do, If you'd like to chat it over, you know, get a woman's point of view."

I think that just confirmed what I already thought of Stella. I don't like her, and I don't think I ever have. She was always patronising, and she's had real difficulty with me as I rose through the ranks, and she had to start treating me as the senior manager I was. She was also one of the hubs of the gossip mill. Well, at least I know where I stand, everyone in the building will know within an hour of Stella knowing.

I went and saw Perry about Greg Dickens of ITP. He didn't know what it was about either. Maybe Neil had mentioned my name. Apparently Neil and this Greg Dickens had met on Thursday last week. I left it with him to sort out.

I wasn't in a rush to go home that evening, there was nothing to go home for. So it was about quarter to seven when I got into my car in the car park. Just then my phone rang, I could see from the little screen that it was Beth's parents home number calling. My heart missed a beat. What was she going to say? Did I want to even answer it?

I hit the talk button, "Hello."

"Hello, Tim? This is George here."

"Yes, George?" A wave of relief came over me.

"You might like to know that your wife is here after you threw her out. Now Mary and I don't want to interfere, but I have to say, whatever is going on between you two, no decent man calls his wife all the names under the sun and throws her out in the street late at night. We thought you loved her. Mary and I even became quite fond of you. We were obviously mistaken in our judgement." And then he rang off.

I sat in my car, staring at a brick wall through the windscreen. I was stunned. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what I should do. I got out of my car and went over the road to the pub. I walked up to the bar and ordered a double whisky. Only when I had taken a healthy gulp did I sigh with a huge release of tension. 

And then there was a voice behind me "Does that feel better?"

I looked round, it was Alice. "Oh hi there. I've just had an absolute stunner of a telephone call. I needed a quick reviver."

"I'd heard that it wasn't all moonlight and roses in your life. Sorry about that. Do you want to talk?" she asked.

I looked round. There were no colleagues in sight. "You in here by yourself? Or are you waiting for someone?"

"No, they just left. You came in here in such a storm that I doubt that you even saw them. I was the only one that was brave enough to wait and find out what the problem was." She smiled, and put an empty glass down on the bar. 

"Sorry, do you want another one of those, whatever it was?" I remembered my manners.

"Only if you fancy talking. I don't want to pry, but I thought you might like someone to talk to."

I thought about it, but I didn't really know Alice, I liked her and got on well with her, but I didn't feel like opening up to her, or not now, maybe another time. But it did make me think I wouldn't mind talking to Phil. "Well, I'll happily buy you a drink. But I think it better that I just sort out some of these things in my own head."

"Well then, why don't you finish up your drink. Then you can give me a lift up the High Street. It'll make a change from giving me a lift down the road always."

And that's what we did. I dropped her at what is known as the Bank Corner. Apparently she had a flat around there somewhere. I went home to a miserable evening, thinking about Beth and what she is telling everybody. I didn't ring Phil.

---

Monday night was just as bad as Sunday. I woke several times to the writhing of Beth and Ken in sexual ecstasy.

Tuesday I went into work with a determination that I was going to run my life from now on. I needed to sort out whether my marriage was repairable. I doubted it, but I had come to realise that there were questions to which only Beth could give me the answers. There was a mounting piles of things that I needed to say to her. I now had a deadline of 14th July. By then we had to know whether we were going to be splitting the CD collection or not.

I sat at my desk. I didn't want to phone her. I didn't like getting calls from her, out of the blue. I wasn't sure that making them to her would be any better. I felt that actually talking to her would only emphasise the gulf between us. I was going to have to email her. I know it was cold and impersonal, but that's the way I wanted it. I composed the email,

Beth, I want to talk to you. Suggest the Red Lion, tomorrow evening at 21:00. This is not reconciliation, but it may be a tentative first step, and anyway there are things you need to know. Please confirm that you can make it. Tim

I read it and read it again, full of indecision. I had to get the words exactly right: I want to talk to you? I'd like to talk to you? We need to talk? I left it as it was and hit the send button.

I had no idea when she would receive it. She may not even be looking at her private email. But that was an advantage of email, at least I could prove I'd tried.

When I came back from lunch, there was a reply:

Dear Tim, Thank you. I'll be there. All my love, Beth

Who's she trying to kid? All her love! Maybe this week, but she couldn't say that last week!

At the end of the day I went to the pub with Dave. He had an orange juice. I was surprised until he told me he was off to the gym. "You should join, Tim. It would do you good."

"You must be joking."

"Seriously. I know that, on the very odd occasion, when some girl has withdrawn from our relationship prematurely, I .."

"You mean when one dumped you?"

"Well, yes. But I'd rather think of it as a discrepancy in our immediate life goals and development." He said with a smile. "Anyway, a good work out session really does help ease the stress and anger that all gets tied up inside." He inspected me from head to toe, "I should think that a simple, intensive daily work out for about a year should do the trick."

"I don't think it's for me. I've always felt that there is something slightly narcissistic about gyms. I've never been to one in my life." I just couldn't see myself doing it.

"Well you ought to. For a start, it's something to do in the evening, and I bet you haven't got a very full social diary at the moment. Also, if you do end up back on the market, it might help if you had a bod that ain't too repulsive to the opposite sex."

I hated to admit it, but there was something in what he said. I certainly could do with something to do in the evenings, I couldn't always go to the pub. And being a bit fitter wouldn't do any harm. And the experts did seem to think that exercise does help with stress.

"OK. I'll dig out some kit and bring it into the office. Take me with you next time you go."

"Oh, you can't just come along anymore. You have to have a full induction. To check you out and do all the health and safety routine on the machines." He finished his juice.

"Well OK, book me in for one of those."

"Good decision. It's for your own good you know. And anyway, you never know who you'll meet down there. I've been approached twice - both of them were men, but at least I was approached."

"You're losing me, again." I said, smiling.

He looked at his watch, "I must go."

We both left the pub, and I went back to my empty house and had a microwaved supper. 

I tried phoning Phil and Denny's home number. There was no answer. I remembered that Tuesday night was Phil's cricket practice night. So I tried watching some television, and actually managed to watch it. In fact I watched it until past midnight, which at least sent me to bed very tired and I managed to sleep.

---

Wednesday was an average day in the office. The only thing of note was that I had a normal scheduled progress meeting with Perry in the morning. It was all very downbeat and mediocre.

Just before lunch, Rose phoned to say that they have drawn up the agreement on Blindside ready for me to sign. I went round to Symmonds & Burtons in the lunch hour. She told me that Freddy Chapman had phoned her, he wanted to emphasise that there would be no slipping on the timeframe to sign the full lease. I told Rose to tell him that I understood, and that she could tell him that I didn't want them to add any thing else to the apartment from what I'd seen. Rose said that there was no china, glass or cutlery and a hundred and one other things. I said I could bring it all from the house, and not having to spend any more money might cheer Freddy up. "Good tactic" said Rose.

I was pleased that the agreement was signed. It meant I could really give Beth a fixed timetable tonight.

I had chosen nine o'clock to meet Beth because it wouldn't be possible to get into a long conversation, and there was no hint of dining together. But it gave me an awkward period between work and meeting her. I went to the pub.

There were not many from TGI in the pub. But Alice was there. I didn't want to drink solidly for two hours, but I thought that Alice might be my saviour.

"You don't fancy a bite to eat do you?"

"Why Tim Williams! What a choice. Drinking here with this bunch of reprobates or being whisked off to a long and expensive meal in that nice Italian half way up the High Street. Well, OK then."

"No. I was hoping I could borrow you to stiffen my resolve. If you ..."

"You call it your resolve do you. Well that's a new one on me. But I guess a girl's got to do what a girl's got to do."

I gave her my best withering look, and didn't take up her flirting opener "If you want to eat Italian, I was more hoping for something like the pizza place at the bottom of the High Street. I'll promise you the real one next time. My treat."

"Well if your paying for that, then let the pizzas be on me."

As we walked along the road she asked "What's all this about then?" 

I explained that I was meeting Beth, trying to take things into my hands, into my control, but I was so scared. We talked about a lot of things, not just about my marriage. I don't think I bad mouthed Beth too much, but I gave her a truthful story of what had happened. Before I knew it was quarter to nine when I glanced at my watch. Alice saw my panic and sent me off, assuring me that she really would pay, but hold me to my promise.

As I drove toward the Red Lion I could feel my stomach muscles knotting. I had thought that eating beforehand would be a good idea. Now I wasn't so sure. I was scared. Scared that I would turn to jelly when I saw her. I knew I loved her. How can you be tough, even cruel, to someone you love? But it had to be done. I had to put my cards on the table. After that it was up to her.

I also knew that I, a humble computer project manager for insurance systems, had to out spin a professional PR consultant in what was essentially a battle of words in a game of love on which my whole world depended.

When I got to the Red Lion, Beth was already there. The pub wasn't very full, and she sat at a table in a window alcove with a glass of white wine in front of her. She was dressed well, but looked pale and drawn. She saw me come in, but didn't stand to greet me. I was glad about that, I'm not sure what I would have done. Shake her hand? Kiss her? Anyway, she stayed seated as I approached.

"Hi" I said, somewhat lamely.

"Hi, I was getting worried....."

"Yes Sorry. I'm only a couple of minutes late. How are you?" I asked. I was standing, awkwardly. She remained sitting, looking up at me, awkwardly.

"OK, I guess. In the circumstances... You know..."

I suddenly thought, I had to get myself a drink, and get settled, sitting down, before we really could talk. "I see you've got yourself a glass of wine, do you want anything else?"

"No thank you." she said in a small voice, slightly rasping. Odd, I thought. Then I realised that her throat was dry and rough from too much crying. Good.

"Well, I'll get myself something." I left her and went to the bar.

I returned with a glass of red wine and sat down opposite her. She looked at me expectantly. I was shaking inside, my stomach was a tight knot. I hoped it didn't show, but I expect it did. I was determined to get through this without shouting, without losing my temper, and in total control. After that I was going to go out and run up Everest, it would be an easier challenge!

"Beth, I want to be clear and honest with you. I don't believe we can put this right. I think your betrayal of me, of us, is beyond repair. I am so angry with you for what you did. For changing my life so completely, without any reference to me. I trusted you with my very soul and you chose, of your own freewill to damage me irretrievably. I don't think I could ever trust you again."

There was a sharp in take of breath from Beth. "Oh Tim, I don't know how to show you how sorry I am. I can think of nothing else but the hurt I've caused you. I need to be given a chance to try to put it right. Please Tim. Don't make this the end. Please.."

"No. I want you to be clear of where you start from. I know I still love you, I can't stop loving you in five days. But loving you and staying married to you are two different things. Everyone tells me that I must talk to you. That I must give our marriage a chance. I would love to be able to put it right. I desperately want our old partnership back. I just don't believe it can be done. But, if you want to try, then I'll listen and talk, directly to you or with counsellors or anything you want to try."

"Oh thank you. I'll do whatever it takes."

"Well, there are some conditions." I said firmly.

"Conditions? What? I've said I'll do anything." She looked eager and hopeful.

"I'll come to those in a moment. Before that you should know that there is also a timetable. At the weekend I saw a fabulous flat that I would want to move into if we are at the end. Now I have to make up my mind and sign a lease or lose my deposit and let it go by 14th July. So we've got 'til then to decide whether its worth pressing on with reconciliation or not."

"Surely, you wouldn't write us off so soon. Why is this flat so special?"

"Well, in theory I guess there is no difference between you living with your parents and me living at the house, and me living in a flat and you living in the house. But, I know that if I move out of the house it will probably be for good. This flat is a fresh start, it is not just some rooms to camp out in while we sort things out. It's not like me going into a hotel for a few days. This would be my new home, my new life. I don't know why, but that's what it signifies to me."

"I see."

"You needed to know that there are time limits."

"Thank you." Her head dipped, in defeat.

I took a sip of wine. She took her cue from me and also took a drink. We eyed each other. She looked tired, the bags under her eyes were very pronounced. Had they been there, maybe less so, but still there before Friday. Had I not noticed that she was tired, stressed from her double life? Don't get carried away from your agenda, Tim!

"Since Friday you've done a couple of things wrong." I opened on the core of my intentions. "You've given me the worst emotional time of my life. I cry myself to sleep. I wake up in the night with nightmare images of you and Ken rutting like animals. I hate you for lying and cheating on me for three months, time after time. I tear myself up that I never noticed the stress and fear you must have lived with in that same time." 

She moved to say something, but I held up my hand to stop her. "And I can't go and talk to my best friend about it all, I can't cry on his shoulder. I don't like that. I - won't - have - that." I spoke softly, quietly and determinedly. "You went to Phil and Denny for refuge, and you didn't even have the guts to tell them the truth. You led them to believe that we had been having problems for ages. That suddenly and unreasonably, I had blown up and ranted and raved and thrown you out like some wife beating husband." 

She looked up at me, about to protest at my version of her truth, but I was in full flow, "Don't start with feeble excuses. It's quite simple. You are going to tell Phil and Denny the truth. Or I will. And I'm going to do it on Sunday, unless you've already done it by then. It will be far better for you if you apologise and explain yourself before I do, I might not use such kind language to explain your behaviour. But it's your choice. I am talking to Phil on Sunday, the full and whole truth will be in the open by then. Do you understand.?"

I think I shocked her by my determination. She seemed cowed. "Yes, Tim. I understand."

While I was on a roll I kept going, "And that goes for my second condition. You'll do the same with your parents."

There was a sharp intake of breath from her side of the table. "No, you can't. It will kill them..."

"Oh yes you will. They're grown ups, they can take it. They love you. They may not like to hear quite what their little daughter's been up to, but they'll take it. And you will tell them. I don't take kindly to your father phoning me up, out of the blue, to tell me what a cad I am, and how cruelly I've treated his daughter."

I think that last bit genuinely surprised her. "I'm sorry. I didn't know he had done that. They promised me they wouldn't interfere."

"Well he did. And I'm glad he did. It just showed how you like to present things your way. And I'm not having that. If you want to even have a first attempt at trying to put this marriage together, then the truth, the whole truth will be out there for us all to consider and work with."




TGI Chronicles Pt. 1 Ch. 04



"I understand." she said meekly. But I wasn't convinced that she had really taken onboard how determined I was about all of this. 

I took another sip of wine, I found that doing that calmed me down. It brought me back to being in control of myself, otherwise I think I might have gone on with the sentiment of the moment to say too much. 

Now I could continue, "That leads me to my third condition. I now realise just how you misled me and others to let us believe the story you want us to believe. I accept that, in your terms, you've never lied to me. But you've never told me the truth either if it didn't suit you."

She looked at me questioningly. I guess she didn't like the theme of what I was saying, but it was about her and in held her interest. 

I went on, "I guess when I wanted to know what had happened last Thursday afternoon, with clever words you led me well away from the truth. I don't want you to explain yourself now, although I might in the future. What I want you to think about is that I want a written, yes written, pledge from you that there will be no secrets between us. If I ask a question, your job is not to work out how you can satisfy me with some answer that presents the version you want me to believe, but you will do your very best to make sure I get all the relevant facts and thoughts that surround the subject of my question. Now do you understand that?"

"I understand, but I think it's a mistake." she answered.

"Why?"

"Well our marriage is not a formal negotiation. It shouldn't have to be in writing. That's wrong." she pleaded.

I took another sip of wine. "No, Beth. It is precisely what it is about. Don't you see, I don't trust you anymore. Not only don't I trust you not to cheat on me, but I can't even trust that you tell me the truth when I ask. I need to know that you will always tell me the truth. And so that I can be convinced, I want to see your words in writing. Then there can be no careful changes of tense, no clever 'mays' instead of 'wills', no sneaked in 'possibles' or probablys'. I won't hear what I want to hear, I will see what you mean to say. And if it's good enough, then we can go on"

She was sipping her wine as I finished this, possibly to cover up her feelings when she realised that I had seen through some of her games, or at least that's what I liked to think. But she put her glass down and looked at me, "Surely you're not going to make me write everything down? We can't live like that."

"Well I don't intend to. But it's not a bad idea. I might well ask you to write down some of your answers if I think a question is critical enough."

"Oh."

We both sipped our wine. I finished mine.

"So there we are. Beth. Three jobs for you. And I mean it. I will not meet you again, I will not try to put this marriage back together unless you do all three. And even then there are no promises. And you know that you've got to show real progress by July 14th or it'll all be over. Just like three month's ago, the future of our marriage is in your hands." I just couldn't resist rubbing a little salt into the wound.

She sat quietly. She finished her wine. I asked her if she wanted another. She looked at me questioningly, wondering if there was any point or was our meeting over. I said I was having one, which seemed to please her, and she said she would too. I went off to the bar. When I got back, she had composed herself. She was sitting up, looking more alert.

I sat down and we both took sips of our drinks, looking at each other. Just looking at her began to get to me. I had damn good taste ten years ago when I spotted her as a fresher at university. I was feeling brighter, almost happy. I had got to the end of my agenda without mishap.

She was the one that broke the silence "I've been thinking about what you've said, and I think I want to understand some things. But before I talk about that, I want you to understand something. I want you to know that the affair between my self and Ken had nothing to do...."

"No, Beth. I'm not going to talk about you and Ken tonight. As I've already said, I will not start reconciling, or trying to understand what made you do it, or what you did or anything else until you've done as I ask."

"You've had your say this evening. Now it's my turn. I need to tell you...."

"Well hard luck. I told you NOT NOW. Please don't make me walk out." I think the threat of me making a scene was enough to stop her in her tracks. I calmly sipped my wine, waiting to see what she would do now, conscious that I was desperate to know about her and Ken, in every minute detail. But that had to wait. 

She glared at me, but, eventually, she too sipped her wine. 

She obviously decided on another tack, "You said that you might want me to explain what happened last Thursday. Don't you think it better, more positive if we move forward. Nothings gained by going over old mistakes. I want a new future with you, Tim. I know I've failed in the past. But what's the point of dragging all that up. Let's work to building a new future."

We've all heard the politicos and government officials who squirm out of their cock-ups by 'looking to the future' 'no purpose in pointing the finger for mistakes made in the past' 'time to move on' 'let's look to the new horizon' Crap. Not in my bloody marriage. Or not anymore anyway.

"No, Beth. That's precisely what reconciliation is about. To help us face up to the mistakes in the past. Face the unpleasant truths. And then build a new future. There will be no cover ups. No glossing over things."

She looked down. I don't think she liked that very much.

I went on "You have to be prepared to answer fully and truthfully any question I may ask. If I want to know the colour of Ken's underpants on a Wednesday in April, you will do your very best to tell me. If I want to know whether his third pubic hair from the right has gone grey or not, you will tell me." 

I looked at her, I think she was liking this bit even less, so I relented a little "I don't think I really want to know the details of what you got up to, not the anatomical details anyway. Unless he's a genetic mutation I guess it was pretty much standard variations on a pretty standard theme - which I think I know. But don't kid yourself, I will ask painful questions, and you will be expected to answer them - in full."

She obviously wasn't very happy. I guess it hadn't been a good evening for her. She came along, hopeful that this was the start of putting Ken behind us, and she had seen a very determined Tim who would only do that on his own terms. It wasn't going to be an easy journey for her. 

I took a sip of wine, and then tried cheering her up, "I don't know whether it will help or not, but I've found that a wife of a guy at work was a marriage guidance counsellor. She's ever so nice, but I think she's a bit of a maverick and she doesn't do it professionally anymore. She wouldn't be one of those totally neutral people. If one of us was wrong about something, I think she would tell us. You should meet her. Anyway it is just an idea."

"Oh, Tim. This isn't how it was meant to be. I know I was wrong. I know I've hurt you terribly. But, putting conditions on actually talking to me; hurting my parents and shaming me in their eyes; declaring that you don't think we stand a chance of getting over this; bringing in counsellors; insisting that we talk about things that we both know are going to be dreadfully painful; we don't stand a chance, do we? You seem determined to divorce me."

"No, that's not true. I loved you with all my heart. I'd like to find a way of going on loving you. But my mind tells me that it is fairly unlikely. That's all. I'm trying to be honest, Beth. I'm trying to find a route out of the mess you created. Look, you want to get back together, don't you?"

"Yes. More than anything I've ever wanted in my life."

"Do you think we could get over this?"

"I know I could. I thought you loved me enough that you could."

"Well then, there you are. Your heart wants to get over it. Your head says that we can get over it. My heart wants to get over it. It's only my mind that really has doubts. So that's three against one. That's not bad odds, is it?" I was rather pleased with myself for this one. Maybe I could spin the spinner. 

"Yes. I think I've got a lot of thinking to do."

We drank our glasses dry and stood up in unison. We both knew the evening was over. In the car park I walked her to her car, she unlocked it and then turned to face me. She looked so nervous. My heart melted, and then that little voice said 'don't blow it at this final hurdle, Tim'. I leant in and gave her a small kiss on the cheek. The sort of kiss that family give each other. Not a lover's kiss. I quickly turned and went to my car.

---

After meeting Beth that Wednesday night, trying to sleep was different. I went to bed excited. I had taken my future into my own hands. I had laid down my terms. I was pleased with myself. But I couldn't sleep because I kept trying to guess what she was going to do.

Thursday morning I dug out some gym kit and put it into a bag and stowed it in the back of the car. It was good timing. Dave told me that he had made an appointment for me on Saturday morning. I asked if he was going to be there. He didn't think so.

Not a lot happened at work. Stella was a bit sullen with me, but that wasn't a problem. Charlie asked me to lunch, a sandwich and juice in his office. He was just checking how I was, and with his director's hat on, how I was working. I told him that I'd given Beth some ultimatums, and that I was feeling pretty good in general and I was working well. But I admitted that sleeping was a problem. 

I went home and phoned my parents. I told them about Beth. They were full of sympathy, but really had nothing new to say. What could they say? Mum suggested that I should go out to stay with them for a bit of a break. I didn't fancy that, but I made vague promises about seeing them soon.

Thursday night was back to the old routine. Ken and Beth in full congress. But, maybe, slightly less hurtfully than before.

Friday was a bit like Thursday. Not a lot happening. The only thing that happened at work was that Perry called me into his office to tell me that ITP were getting really awkward, and that he thought he might have to reallocate resources. He would think about it over the weekend and see me on Monday. Oh Great! At this worst possible period in my life, I'm going to have to chase around smoothing people's egos after one of Perry's notorious department reorganisations. Just what I didn't need!

Just after I got home on Friday evening, Phil phoned,

"Tim, you don't fancy a drink, do you?"

"Always. Do you mean this evening? Its just that I thought Friday evening was your shopping evening."

"Well it usually is, but Denny's going out with Beth for a drink and a meal. So I thought of you at home. I thought it was about time we caught up."

"Who's idea was that?"

"What? Denny and Beth going out? I think Beth suggested it. Why?"

"No, not that, you and I going out for a drink?"

"Well it was sort of Denny and myself. She didn't want you floating around the town centre if she was there with Beth. No embarrassing scenes, if you know what I mean. So I promised that I'd lure you to the pub, I normally find that quite an easy thing to do."

"Well can I take a rain check on it? I know that's unusual, but I've just got in and this place is a tip. I've sort of promised myself that I should do a week's worth of dirty dishes, loads of laundry and all that sort of thing. A drink would be tempting, but I think I've got to start getting my domestic act together. How about a drink on Sunday morning if you're around?"

"Well, that's possible. But come on, Tim, don't you fancy one tonight?"

"Phil, I promise, I am not going down to the town centre to shadow Beth and Denny, and certainly not to interfere with them in any way. I won't phone them. I won't leave home. You can come round here and keep an eye on me while you wash the kitchen floor, and have a beer from the fridge I you want. How does that sound?"

"I'll see you Sunday morning. What time?"

"I'll call you."

I didn't want a stilted meeting with Phil, not being able to talk about the truth. And I certainly didn't want to interfere with Beth and Denny. I just hoped that Beth was doing what I asked, and telling Denny the truth before it was too late.

To be continued... 



TGI Chronicles Pt. 1 Ch. 05



Chapter 05: Too Late

Saturday morning started late. I hadn't slept well, but I couldn't rouse myself to get out of bed. Eventually I remembered my appointment at the gym, so I managed to get to the shower. That helped.

I was just about to leave the house, early for the gym, but I thought I would grab a coffee or juice in town before that, when my phone rang. It was Phil.

"Hi, Phil."

"Why didn't you tell me? You poor bugger. Are you alright?"

"Yes, As well as can be expected."

"You should have said something. Denny's being sticking pins in a wax model of you all week, and I've had my doubts."

"I was going to, but would you have fancied telling Denny that her best friend was a lying cheating bitch?"

"Oh... I see. But still..."

"Well you know now. And it was better that Beth told you. I take it that's what happened? It was confession time on the girl's night out?"

"Yes. Denny got back here absolutely shell-shocked. She's spitting blood about Beth."

"Tell her not to. I really do need to see you, Phil. No I need to see you both, but I've got to go. I've got an induction session at the gym in three quarters of a hour, and I need a coffee before then."

"You! Gym! Narcissistic pansy boys I think was your phrase when I joined."

"Well, as I've failed with women I thought I'd join the other side."

"Actually, it's a bloody good idea. Some good work outs will help, or they would me. Anyway, how about a pint at lunchtime? You'll need it by then."

I hadn't planned on seeing Phil today. I wanted to talk to him openly, but I had tomorrow in my mind "Haven't you got a match?"

"We did have, but have you looked out of the window this morning?"

No I hadn't. But I did now. It was a grey, wet English summer day. And the rain looked as if it was here to stay. "Oh, I see. Yes it does look a bit bleak."

"So, what about it?" Phil pressed me.

"I think I'd rather still see you tomorrow. I'll be more relaxed by then, and I do need to talk slowly and sensibly about all this."

"Well OK. How about the Red Lion at eleven thirty." 

"Does it have to be the Red Lion. I've seen rather a lot of it lately, and it isn't the best pub in the world."

"Its better than a lot. But OK then, how about the King's Head out on the Sheepen Road? That's nice, with plenty of quiet corners to settle into. You could walk to it, it's not that far across the fields from your place. And I'll get Denny to taxi me."

"OK. The King's Head tomorrow. But I must go now. Bye Phil."

"Look after yourself. It will get better, Tim. Denny and myself will help."

"Thanks" ---

The gym was nowhere near as bad as I thought it would be. After I'd parted with an exorbitant cheque, and got my little plastic card to swipe for anything I wanted to do; to go through a door; to use a bit of equipment; to lock a locker; to have sheer bloody exhaustion fitted.... Actually the guy who took me over all the equipment and helped fill in a rudimentary health check was very nice. I wondered whether he would like an introduction to Beth's brother Stephen, but he was a nice guy. He gave me some tips on what he thought I should concentrate on, but I refused to pay for the full personal training programme. Some general workouts and a bit of sweat would do for me.

After the instructor had left, I thought I'd have a go on a few bits of kit, when Dave turned up, "I thought you didn't come on Saturdays."

"I don't normally, but Maddy went off last night to some wedding with her ex. So I've some thoughts to work out. And I knew you would be down here, and I thought you might like a pint afterwards."

It seemed everybody wanted to pour beer down my throat. Being a cuckold has its compensations.

Dave and myself had a pleasant beer and lunch together. Our talk was very work orientated, I warned him that we seemed due for a Perry led game of musical chairs. He took it well.

When we came out of the pub it had stopped raining. It wasn't a great day, but it was drying up. After I had said my farewells to Dave I went for a walk round town. Its odd how you look at a place differently without a partner holding your hand. I guess you don't have to look in shop windows that don't interest you, and you can spend longer looking at things that do. Married life is a compromise. 

I then thought I might stroll round to River Mead, just to look. Blindside was becoming a bigger and bigger question mark in my mind. 

At the end of River Mead, where the road meets the river, there are a couple of park benches, for people to sit and look and take in the view. I sat on one and looked sideways at Trafalgar House. There was no sign of the Chapmans, I think the scaffolding was now higher than it had been last week.

I sat there for over half an hour, in deep thought. But I was no clearer as to whether I was going to live there than when I started. Beth had met the first of my demands, I wondered whether she would meet the other two. If she didn't, then my decision was easy. But, if she did, could we, would we make the progress towards rebuilding something worthwhile between us that may make me stay? I was learning that I may be able to dictate the timetable, I may be able to set my own criteria, but it was still a partnership to see what would happen. Damn the woman, she was still ruling my life!

---

On Sunday morning, I got to the King's Head just in time to see Denny's car pull out of the car park, I don't think she saw me, but I waved just in case. 

Phil was at the bar when I went in. I tapped him on the shoulder and said "Make it two"

The barman was handing him two pints. "I already did." he said, passing me a pint. The pub was surprisingly full. Tourist trade, I thought, as we looked round for somewhere to sit. We found two good seats in an alcove in a side room. We sat down and looked at each other.

"How do you feel?" was his opener.

"Surprisingly good, actually. When it all happened on Fateful Friday, I was just consumed in the pain of anger, of personal hurt, of revenge, of despair, of....Oh I don't know, just so much. I couldn't read, I couldn't think straight, I couldn't eat. But it is surprising how you get used to living with pain. There is this bloody great hole inside of me, eating away at me. But I can walk and talk and watch telly and work. I just seem to get used to living with the pain. Its almost a friend."

"A pretty hellish friend. No thank you." he observed with a slight shudder.

"Yes, well..."

"You should have said something. We really did think it was something you were both responsible for, and you were definitely the bad guy in Denny's eyes."

"Yes well... I wanted to. I know I needed to talk to you, but when we met last week, I don't think I was capable of taking decisions. You told me that you would have to tell Denny, and that was right, don't get me wrong, but I wasn't sure I wanted her to know, not then."

"You poor bugger. It must have been hell for you. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help."

"Don't worry about it." I was beginning to feel tears welling up as I sort of re-bonded with a very dear friend. I took a long draught of beer. Phil followed suit. 

Freshened, I asked what Beth had said. Phil gave me a quick summary. It seemed to cover the story, truthfully, even complete as far as I knew it, but it didn't add a lot to my understanding. 

"Well, now you know as much as I do." I said. I drank some more beer. 

Then Phil continued, "Denny said that Beth was really upset by all of this. She was so full of remorse. She, according to Denny, loves you desperately, and is so scared that she's lost you."

"I think she has. I can't see a way back, Phil. Not for me." Again the tear ducts were on the move. More beer and a pause. But saying those words warranted more than beer and a couple of seconds for recovery. I blew my nose, that did the trick and the tears subsided.

Phil had seen my emotion. He put his hand on my arm and said "Its alright Tim. Tears are inevitable. I'd be a bloody waterworks if it was me. A blubbering mess curled up on the floor."

"You think I haven't been?." I blew my nose again. And smiled weakly.

"Denny thinks you ought to get the divorce papers in right now. Clean break and all that."

"I thought you said she thought Beth could find a way back, or at least she wanted to?"

"Yes, but to Denny, its simple black and white."

"And you?" I asked.

"It was to me as well. My initial reaction was much the same as Denny's. But as we talked, and we did talk for ages, I started to imagine what my life would be like without Denny. I began to wonder where I'd draw the line. I couldn't live with knowing that she'd cheated on me, but I couldn't just throw away everything we have. I really don't know. I think I'd be searching for 'why?' Wanting a reason, some excuse to forgive and forget."

"Yeah. You've got it."

We both finished our pints. I held out my hand for his glass, which he gave me, and I went off to the bar. Once I was back with two new pints, Phil looked at his watch.

"I'm under strict instructions from Denny. We can drink as much as we like, take as long as we like and then I'll phone her and she'll come and collect us and we'll all go back to our place where she'll feed us."

"That's very generous of her. She goes up in my estimation." I smiled.

"She feels guilty. She's been painting you as the lowest of the low all week. But I'm not complaining! For the first time in my life, she's taxied me to the pub as opposed to reluctantly rescuing me when I can't drive home."

We fell to silence, drank our drinks. I wanted to talk, but didn't know how to start, when Phil did it for me, "Who is this Ken, anyway? Do I know him?"

"Well you must have met him, at one of our barbeques or parties. He's about late forties, maybe fifty. Slim-ish, about six foot, greying hair. Always immaculately dressed, he always stands out for wearing expensive clothes that are always one step too formal for whatever the occasion. I thought he was OK, average really. I would never have imagined him as my rival." 

"Is he the one that always tells you he's got a Bentley within the first two minutes?"

"Yes, that's him."

"Oh. Yeah, he's nothing special. Good God! Fancy her choosing him. What's happened to him, or them I suppose I should say?"

"I don't really know. I know Jean said something about Spain, and this was the end for her, or something. But my mind was in overdrive at the time, I didn't take it all in."

"Don't you feel like screwing his face into the grill of his Bentley? I think I would." 

"No, not really. Surprising that, I thought I would, before this happened, if you know what I mean. But it's the one thing I do remember from what Jean said that morning, 'They were both adults.' It doesn't matter what he did, even if he wooed her with money and fine wine and the whole works. She did it of her own free will. And she went back and did it again, time after time for three bloody months. That's my sticking point."

Phil looked at me, maybe slightly surprised. "What do you mean, five times is acceptable but ten times isn't?"

"Well I'm not sure about even five times, but maybe, just maybe, once might have been excusable. Maybe we've had a row, he plies her with drink and flattery, et cetera. She falls for it. Maybe I would have to forgive that. But to go back, deliberately, time after time, that I can't get over. It isn't even the sex as such. It's the decision to betray me and our marriage for months on end that I can't get over. Even if I could understand what made her do it, if I could find a way of forgiving her, I still don't see how I can forget."

I felt exhausted, and took a swig of beer. Phil sat silent. I guess he decided to put the other point of view, whether out of kindness, to give me something to argue about so as to help me to realise my own true feelings, or whether just because he likes a good argument in the pub, I don't know.

But he pushed me, "Plenty of couples do. Or learn to live with it, maybe like your pain. They seem to rebuild something that they can happily live with. Its hard to imagine from the outside."

Phil knew me, he knew I would rise to the bait, "Yes, but... Six months ago I could spot Beth across the room at a party, chatting or dancing with some young, attractive guy, and I wouldn't have given a damn. Good luck to her for making new friends, for enjoying herself. I trusted her completely and didn't have a jealous bone in my body. But now, for the next thirty, forty, fifty years of my life, I'd see that and wonder, Is this it? Is life repeating itself? And I won't live like that, I can't live like that. And I don't see how she can convince me, show me, that it won't be like that."

I drank some beer. Phil remarked, "Yes, that would be tough." before I continued.

"And another thing. I can't believe a damn word she says. And even if she did really mean it at the moment, that she's never ever do it again, how do I know what she's going to get up to in five years time. Promises fade. And obviously the sanctity of marriage doesn't mean a lot to her."

"Well, maybe she's learnt her lesson. Denny said she really is getting the message that this is the end."

"But how do I know that? How does she prove it? She can't, and in a case of doubt, I'll play safe. I won't get caught again."

Phil finished his pint and looked at me. "Fancy another one?"

"Not really. Its good to sit and talk to you, Phil. But I don't need to drink. I'll happily drink something non-alcoholic if you want another one."

"Well how about I phone Denny to come and collect us, and we have a half while she gets here?"

"That sounds fair." And that's what we did. We didn't really talk about Beth after that, or not until Denny arrived, when she went through the customary sympathy bit.

When we got to their house, we paused in the hall while Denny told us that she planned a traditional Sunday roast, but that meant she still had some cooking to do. So Phil and myself would have to wait about half an hour before it was ready. Phil looked surprised at her plans, but then asked me what I would like to drink. I told him that juice would be fine, or a Coke if they had no juice. I strolled into their living room whilst Phil followed Denny into the kitchen.

I wandered across to their patio doors onto the garden, and as the sun was out, I rolled them back and stepped out. 

Their kitchen window was open and I could hear Denny's voice "...seems OK."

"Yes. I think he's a bit delicate emotionally. But he seems to be holding it all together."

"Did you talk about everything. About how Beth was and everything?" Denny seemed to think there was more than Phil was likely to have told me.

"No, not everything. I thought some of it would be better from you, firsthand so to speak." It seemed that Denny was right.

"OK We can talk over lunch." said Denny, with some relish, I thought.

"No, Denny. Give the guy a break. He was pretty emotional in the pub. He was in tears at one point. Some of it even got to me. Let him have a breather. Let's have a lunch without Beth."

"If you say so. You'd better get him his juice. There's some open in the fridge."

A moment later, Phil was at my side with a cool glass of orange juice.

They kept to their private agreement. There was no talk of Beth over lunch, but she came pretty close to being part of the conversation on a couple of occasions. Mainly when we were reminiscing over some past incident, and of course, Beth had been at every one of them. However, we made it to late in the afternoon, when Denny made a pot of tea, before she really raised it again. I was quite relieved, the tension of waiting was becoming unbearable.

"What's all this about a flat, Tim?" she asked simply and directly.

I told her about Blindside, that I didn't go looking for it, but it is such a perfect, refreshing, new start it really is a tempting alternative. She asked if she could see it, soon.

"Sure, I guess I can get you in to look at it, I think I need to look round again so that I know what to take if I go there. But why? Is this you or did Beth ask you to see it?" 

"Well, part of it is just me being nosey. But Beth was very wound up about it. I think she sees you moving there as terrifically significant. She's scared to death about it. But I think that's done her some good. I don't know what you said when you met, but whatever it was, do some more of it."

"Why?" I asked, I really needed to know what Denny had found out.

"Well, I think Beth really did believe, maybe she still does, that you would be angry and hurt with what she has done. But, she knew that you loved her and therefore, in her world, you would forgive her. All she had to do was to find the right formula of words to say sorry and everything would be back to normal. I think she realised that it may take a few weeks, maybe even a month or two, but you would come round. She knows it was a big hurt she's caused, but you would get over it."

"You really think that she thought she could screw the next door neighbour for months and that she wasn't risking our marriage?" I was incredulous.

"I think when you threw her out, that wasn't what she expected, and that frightened her."

"I'll go along with that," intervened Phil "she was really shocked when she got here that night."

"Then whatever you said at your meeting this week, Wednesday wasn't it, put a timetable on it. I got the impression that you gave her some ultimatums as well. We didn't get on to that. But whatever it was, it seemed to get the message across that this wasn't going to be easy to put right" continued Denny.

"Tell me how the evening went, if you can. I know you and Phil have agreed some rules about what can be talked about and what can't." I asked.

"I told him last Saturday, Denny" said Phil, looked at his wife, slightly concerned, just in case he had told me something he shouldn't.

"I told Beth that I wouldn't say anything to you about Friday night if she didn't want me to, but she didn't seem to care. If anything, she thought that if I tell you how sorry she is it might help. So I don't think I'm breaking any confidences."

"So, what happened?"

"Well Beth phoned me first thing Friday morning, we were still having breakfast, just saying she needed to see me, and what about a glass of wine and some dinner that evening. I have to admit I was intrigued, so I said yes, and we agreed to meet at that new wine bar in the High Street, 'Not Steinbeck's' it's called."

"Odd name" Phil remarked.

"I guess it's a reference to John Steinbeck's novel, but it rather implies that they have never actually read it." I answered him. I turned back to Denny "Go on."

"Well we were well into our second bottle, and it was still girly chit chat. I was beginning to wonder what it was all about. Then she just sort of said that the problem between you was that she had been having an affair, and you had not known a thing until that Friday morning. It was the last thing I expected. So to give myself some time to get my head around that, I sort of stopped her, put her on hold, until we'd ordered some food and waited for it to be delivered. I think we'd finished eating by the time she'd finished telling me that she had been having an affair with this man Ken and that you had suspected something on Thursday and she'd led you away from your suspicions, that's what she said, it struck me as an odd phrase, but Ken's wife came in on Friday morning and the shit hit the fan. She was a bit of an emotional mess by that time, and I didn't really get much more of the story out of her after that. It was all a bit self-pity and tearful mumbles about how you were being so hard, and wouldn't listen to her. Something about you wanted to go over all that had happened, which was going to be so painful for everyone, and that you had this flat and you were going to go if it wasn't all sorted out in a couple of weeks."




TGI Chronicles Pt. 1 Ch. 05



Phil, who I guess had heard all this before, just sat quiet. I listened intently, while Denny told her story.

"So why do you think I was right with these ultimatums?" I asked.

"As I say, I don't think she really has any idea of how serious her action was. She knows it's unacceptable, but to her that means society, family and everyone will condemn her. What she doesn't see is that it was intrinsically wrong, or maybe she's kidded herself that it was forgivable. She was always very proud of how strong a marriage you two had. Of how much you loved each other, that you were fated for each other. That nothing could interfere with that. So I guess, a little affair on the side didn't really matter, the marriage was stronger than that in her eyes. I can't explain it any other way."

"Did she give you any clue as to why she did it? That's the question that plagues me. Why? Why would she take a lover? Wasn't I good enough? Did he seduce with promises or money? I just need to know why, and in everything she's said she has never answered that."

"No, I don't think she did. I think I asked her that, but she was in the blubbering and sobbing stage by then, and if she did say anything I certainly didn't understand it. I can understand that you need to know, but I don't think I can help you. It was one of the things that Phil and I talked about 'til the early hours on Friday night." Denny looked at me, straight into my eyes, but I couldn't read anything but her own bafflement and sad sympathy for me.

Phil got up and came and put his hand on my shoulder. Somehow it was a comfort. This conversation was getting me nowhere, and was just dragging me down emotionally.

"So what are you going to do now? How did you leave it?" I asked.

Phil answered, looking at his wife to ensure he was saying the right thing, "Well, actually I think that's up to you, Tim." 

"Why me?"

Denny turned from her husband to me "Well I was a bit shell shocked when I put her in a taxi, but when I got home I got more and more angry with her. Personally I think you should divorce her, but that's up to you. I do know that, at the moment, it wouldn't worry me not to see her again. So, I'll take my lead from you." Denny picked up her tea cup, took a sip of tea, and looked at me.

I drank my tea, slowly, while I thought things out.

I looked at Denny, then at Phil, and then back to Denny "I don't want either of you to fall out with Beth. Her views on fidelity don't really matter to your friendship. And, anyway, friends are meant to accept their friends' faults. She probably needs all the friends she can get at the moment." 

"That's rather generous of you." remarked Phil "I would have thought you might like to hear that she's lost her friends over this. I would have thought there might be some satisfaction in that."

"Well there is that side to it, but selfishly, it might just help me, or even both me and Beth, if I have some other link to her, someone else who can tell me how she is, or what she's thinking." I replied.

Denny looked concerned "But how can we stay friends with both of you. We'll be giving our usual 4th July all-American barbeque in a week's time. Do you really want us to invite both of you?"

"That's up to you, but if you invite me, I promise you, I'll be here. I'm not going to let this mess spoil my friendships. Don't even tell me if you invite her, it'll only give me sheer hell if I'm certain that I've got to face her. Let it be a surprise." 

"Oh, by the way. Who is this Ken?" Denny asked.

"He's the one with a Bentley" Phil answered.

"Oh. Him... Yuck.. How could she.. He's old enough to be her father." Denny responded.

I, for some unknown reason, came to Ken's defence "No, not quite. And yes he does have a Bentley, and a Mercedes and a Mitsubishi Shogun. And a villa in Spain. And a flat in London."

"Oh. That's alright. She fucked around in comfort then. Beth didn't strike me as the sugar daddy type." Phil smiled, but looked at me to see if it was alright to do so. I laughed and that eased the tension.

We really didn't talk much more about Beth, or me for that matter. We drifted into a comfortable evening of friendship and discussions on cinema, politics and the one-way traffic system in town. 

About eight o'clock, we were sitting outside, keeping warm under their new patio heater, but discussing the fact that all three of us were beginning to feel chilly, when we heard the front door bell. Denny volunteered to answer it, saying she'd make some coffee at the same time. Then we heard Denny call "Phil, can you come here a minute."

The next thing I knew was Phil was back out on the patio telling me that they had Beth in their hall, demanding to see me. Would I be willing to see her? What could I say, but Yes?

She came into the living room and faced me as I came through the garden doors.

"I guessed you would be here this evening. But your car isn't outside, and I nearly went away. I rang the bell without much hope of finding you." 

"Well you've found me. What do you want, Beth?" The remnants of the visiting iceberg of days ago suddenly returned to my heart.

"On Wednesday you had obviously thought out what you wanted to say, you didn't give me the chance to say what I needed to say"

"Which is?" I asked, icily.

"That I love you, Tim. OK, I did a terrible thing, I was wrong and I know that, and I know that I've hurt you terribly. I sorry about that. If I could undo what I've done I'd do so, but I can't. I have to live with my mistake. But you must realise that I'm hurting too. You may be so upset with your wife that you can't bear to live with her, but that means I'm living without the one man I love, I need and I want. I'm scared, Tim. Scared I'll lose you forever."

The room fell silent. I wasn't sure what to say. But before I said anything she continued, "I know you'll lie awake at night, hurting over what I did, but I want you to know that I'm lying in a lonely bed, wide awake and crying as well. I'm waking up with nightmares of what I did, of what pain I've caused you, that I'm losing you, and you won't even talk to me."

This time I did respond. My cold hearted anger had risen "Maybe you should have thought of that three months ago. Maybe instead of rushing into the arms of a lover, you could have tried talking to your loving husband."

"Yes, I could have, I should have. But I didn't. I can't alter that, I wish I could. I didn't love Ken, by the end I didn't particularly like him. But I can't alter what I did. And if you just go on and on looking for opportunities to throw that back in my face, to score points with clever repartee then we will never get over this. You keep putting the future of our marriage on my shoulders. And, yes I know that I weakened it all by myself, but it will take two to put it back together again. Please stop trying to hurt me and start trying to help me. Help me rescue the good marriage we had."

I took a step forward, I was tempted to hold her by the shoulders and shout into her face, but I knew that any physical contact would be a mistake. "Why, so that you can hurt me again later? I love you, and I want to forgive you, and maybe in time I could, but I don't see how I can forget. You tell me Beth, how can I forget your treachery? How are you going to make me believe that you won't do it again?"

"I don't know. But if you just give me ultimatums, if you just live by some timetable that suits some landlord somewhere, then I don't stand a chance. Please, Tim, let me try to show you that there is a future for us. I know it will be a different future to the one you wanted, the one you expected, but it will be a good future, one with me helping you, loving you, supporting you. Surely that's better than loneliness as some aging bachelor sadly seeking love the second time around?"

God! Phil! Denny! Someone! Give me some breathing space, some distraction to let me marshal my thoughts. I looked passed Beth's shoulder at the open door. I could imagine Phil and Denny standing silently, discretely in the hall, out of sight, but listening avidly to every word. I didn't blame them, I would have done the same. 

Before I found any words, Beth started again, "Tim, when I saw you on Wednesday you were different. In ten days you had changed. I expect I'm changing to. We can't afford to wait while I find the opportune moment to cause hurt and pain to an innocent middle aged couple who I love and need at this moment, and all the time you are deciding whether you want to keep the toaster to the left or the right of the cooker. Please Tim, we need to be together to sort this out. I'll jump through whatever hoops you want, I know I've got an uphill task on my hands, but your not even letting me start."

The ice melted, it was still pretty cold in my heart, but the ice had melted. "I'm sorry Beth, but I just hurt. I HURT AND I HURT AND I HURT. You should have thought... you should have realised what you were doing. I promise you, I will think to see if I can find another way, but I can't make promises to you tonight. I'm sorry."

Again, like at The Red Lion, both of us knew there was no more to be said. She turned to leave, and I followed her. As she went into the hall, the kitchen door clicked shut. We got to the porch and she turned to me, "I do love you, Tim. I just can't stop thinking about you...About how important our partnership is..."

The words 'It's a pity you didn't think about me three months ago' formed in my head, and as I opened my mouth she held up her hand to put two fingers on my lips, "Don't, just don't.. Don't you think I know. Its futile, it gets us nowhere. Do you think if you say it a hundred times like some magic mantra we will be able to go back in time and put the wrong right? I can't. We can't. But I can't build a future by myself either, only we can do that. Tim, we have to talk before it's all too late."



TGI Chronicles Pt. 1 Ch. 06



Chapter 06: Too Late

I turned back into the house. Phil and Denny stood in the hall and silently watched me. We trouped into their living room, still in silence.

I turned to them, "I'm sorry that you got caught up in that."

"We heard some of it, we couldn't help it." said Denny.

"And we were listening." added the more honest Phil.

I smiled, "I would have been, if I'd been you."

"Is this all about these ultimatums that you gave her. Can you tell us what they are about?" asked Denny, sitting down, obviously expecting a full answer. Phil sat on the arm of her chair, his arm around her shoulders. I sat opposite them.

I explained, "Well she has come up trumps on the first one. I told her that she must tell you the truth."

Denny looked indignant, "You mean that Friday's confession was only because you made her?" 

"I'm sure she would have told you in her own good time. She needs you as a friend. She would have got round to it. I just motivated her." I tried to smooth Denny's ego, before I added "And I've insisted that she tells her parents as well."

"Ooh, I don't envy her that one." Phil instantly saw Beth's problem. "That will be rough."

"Yes, it will be. But at the moment they think I'm the biggest shit in Christendom, if they are half the loving parents I think they are, they must be telling her to make a clean break and dump me. That doesn't help. And even if Beth and I do patch things up despite that advice from them, think what my relationship with mys will be like. They'll think their darling daughter has reconciled with an absolute arsehole. How's that as a stepping stone to happy families? And, I think confession might be good for Beth, and maybe her parents can understand why she did it. Maybe they know some deep reason for it all. You never know."

I looked at Phil and Denny, hoping they would see my demand as reasonable. Phil guessed there was more "And are those your only reasons?"

"Well I have to admit, it really galls me that she professes her undying love for me at the same time as she is perfectly happy to let the two people who she loves and respects the most think of me as a shit. It doesn't make sense, and my ego certainly doesn't like it."

Denny looked at me "Have you explained all that to her? My guess is she is just frightened at the horrid difficulty of having to do it. I can't think of much worse for a ghastly half hour's chat around the family table. You have to tell her why you want her to do it. And are there any other conditions?"

"Yes. I want a written commitment for her to tell the whole truth. Beth is a master, or mistress I suppose, at glossing things over, steering conversations away from things she doesn't want to talk about or have to admit to. I want a clear understanding that we have to talk about all that's happened and what caused it."

"Oh I'm sure she must realise that." Denny exclaimed.

"No, I don't think she does. You heard her. It was all about building a new future, nothing about looking at what went wrong in the past. Just admit that it happened and it was your fault and move on. That's Beth's way. It's a '15% less fat' issue, Phil." 

Denny looked at her husband who squeezed her shoulder, "I'll explain later."

Denny looked back at me "Well I don't know what all that is about, but... I know we said we wouldn't.." she looked up at Phil "...but maybe I could have a word. Maybe she'll listen to me and I can explain why you want her to talk to her parents. I could try to see her on Tuesday when Phil's out at cricket practice."

That struck me as a good idea, it would relieve me of trying to find a way to explain what I wanted without getting into other issues. "Well, if you could. And I do think she needs a friend. She must be terribly alone, with only her own thoughts for company."

Phil hugged Denny into himself, showing his approval. Then Denny stood up "I said I was going to get some coffee and I guess we could all do with it, and maybe something stronger to go with it."

---

I was nearly late for the office on Monday. My lack of domesticity had caught up with me, when dressing I found I had no decent ironed shirt, plenty of clean but crumpled ones, not one was ironed. Beth always ironed my shirts, it was one of the things she took pride in. So I started the day with ironing a shirt, not very well either, I hadn't done it in years, and it nearly made me late.

The office was fairly routine. I kept thinking that I must send Beth an email to say I was sticking by my rule that she must tell her parents, but I was wavering on the written commitment to truth bit. I promised myself I would make up my mind before I went to lunch and email her then.

At about eleven thirty I had a call from Personnel, could I go along to see Charlie immediately. I wondered why, but it sounded urgent.

I waited, sitting in the visitor's chair at his desk, drinking a cup of coffee. He calls me along on something urgent, and then he isn't there! Eventually he comes in "Sorry Tim, I've kept you waiting. I hope someone gave you ... Oh yes." 

He sat down behind his desk and looked at me. "I've just come from a meeting in Neil's office with Perry. Perry has resigned with immediate effect. He's in his office at the moment with one of my team, signing some papers and clearing his personal items." 

"Good God! I knew things were a bit stressed, but I didn't expect that. Oh..." I looked at Charlie who just sat watching me. "What do you want me to do? Tell the department?"

Charlie leant back in his chair. "The company now has a problem - what to do next."

"Advertise and recruit I suppose. I might even apply myself. It would be good interview practice and show that I am still ambitious." I told him.

Charlie looked at me, but ignored what I said "We have the ITP contract going sick on us. It's running late, but not too late yet. Financially, it's break even at best, and may make us a loss. ITP are cutting up rough, rougher than they really should. But there you are, they are the customer. But, they are starving us of cash by delaying the next instalment payments. We have to get that project back on the straight and narrow and with ITP happy again, or we'll have real problems."

"I'd heard that it was going a bit pear shaped."

"So we have a vacancy for head of department, and a real urgency on the ITP project." Charlie continued, "So, we face some choices. We don't have time to recruit, so that's out. We could transfer Darren or Sheila across from either Banking or Investments. But they've got their own problems, and neither of them has any insurance experience whatsoever. We could hire in a senior interim manager but he will not know this company or the project, and he'll cost a fortune on a project where we are likely to make a loss on. Or we could promote you." Charlie just looked at me.

"Oh!"

Charlie just looked at me. I just looked at Charlie. There was no doubt in my mind. I'd say Yes if the job was offered, and I felt pretty sure that I could do it. 

Before I shaped the words and voiced my thoughts, Charlie was speaking again, "Now, there are those who think that you are a very good project manager, that you will be an excellent company manager, but it's all a bit early in your career. You're not quite due this promotion yet. Others are concerned that you don't carry the necessary weight to give ITP the confidence they need. And, of course, everyone knows about your marital problems and they are rightly concerned that you are not in the right frame of mind to take on this challenge, that your mind will be elsewhere."

"So what should I do?" I asked, I didn't realise until afterwards that this was a good open question. I had meant 'what should I do to get the job'.

Charlie took it differently. "I can't tell you that, Tim. We are going to hold a Board Meeting for all Director's that are around today, at three o'clock this afternoon to decide what we are going to do. You are invited to come along and tell us what you think we should do, or what you want to do. You can come along and just say it doesn't interest you, or you could give us a full pitch on why you deserve the job. We'll listen either way."

"OK. Three o'clock you say. That doesn't give me much time."

Charlie smiled at me, "No, it doesn't. Life's like that sometimes. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a long lunch to go to with Neil out at the Golf Club. I'll see you at three o'clock." And he got up and left.

I went back to the department, straight to Perry's office. As I came through the door to his outer office, Stella was just dialling someone on the phone. I heard her say "Oh Janice..." That meant Janice Conroy in accounts, another gossip monger. 

"Have the decency to let him get out of the building, Stella" I sharply admonish her.

As I walked passed her towards Perry's office, I heard her say "I'll phone you back" and she smiled at me sweetly.

Perry was packing things into a cardboard box at his desk. One of the personnel guys was standing leaning against the wall, watching him. "I'm sorry Perry. I didn't know it was this bad."

He looked up at me "I was a bit surprised myself. ITP is a bit late, but nothing serious. They've just got a bee in their bonnet about it and I got stung."

"Well, all I can say is, that as far as I was concerned, you were a good boss. I learnt a lot from you. Thank you." I smiled, hoping to cheer him up a bit.

"It's ironic, Tim. I know I was a good departmental manager. And how did I get to be a manager, because I was a good project manager. And what's let me down this time - project management."

"They're wondering whether they should give me the job."

"Do you want it?"

"Yes."

He stopped his packing to look at me, "Then go for it. You'll do it well. You've still got a bit to learn on the management side, but you're exactly what they're looking for - someone to dig them out of the hole their in with ITP. I'd give it to you."

"Thanks. I wanted to know what you thought. Are you having a booze up?"

"No.....not my style." he said, looking pleased that I'd asked.

I shook his hand, and told him to let me know where he ends up. I left in search of Dave.

"Dave, time for a stroll along the riverbank" I whispered as he was passing some schedule charts to one of his team.

"Again!?!" he muttered under his breath, but he followed me out of the office.

When we got to the seat by the river I sat down. Dave waited, he hadn't asked once what this was all about. I told him the situation.

Dave listened and then responded, "You've got to go for it. You can't let some interim guy who doesn't know us from Adam, and doesn't know the system, come in. And, anyway, you may show the occasional hint of ability, not often, but occasionally."

"Thanks. But how do I get it?"

"You've got to show them that you can do it. Show them how you would go about it, and that you are the man for the job. Now is not the time for lights under bushels, you've got to blow your own trumpet, and mix your metaphors all at the same time."

"How? I haven't exactly got a lot of time."

"How about using that presentation you did about a year ago. 'If God was an insurance project manager' or something."

"Great! Well done, David! I'll let you go on working here! I know those slides well, I ended up doing that talk about three times. A quick mix and match on that and I can have a PowerPoint presentation to be proud of."

For the next couple of hours Dave and myself worked hard at our screens. At ten to three I was satisfied with the presentation and what I had to say. I went down to the Boardroom, no one had arrived yet, so I plugged in my laptop to the projector, booted it up and was ready to go. I sat and waited.

The first to arrive was Don McIntyre, the sales and marketing director. Big bluff Don, six foot four, always cheerful and known throughout the industry. He was quickly followed by Andrew Tweedsman, the technology and research director, someone who always looked to me as if he would be happier in the fields of academe than industry, but I'd had very little to do with him. Then Neil Timmons, the managing director and Charlie arrived together, accompanied by a third man that I didn't recognise.

Neil introduced me to him, Sir Philip Cochran. Tall, about sixty years old, immaculately dressed, reeking of money, but with a kind and humorous twinkle in very pale blue eyes. I vaguely remembered some internal memo of a couple of months back announcing that the Board had recruited the recently retired CEO of one of the banks as a non-executive director. I guess this was him.

Neil looked at his watch and said "Well, what have you got to tell us, Tim?"

I stood up and brought the screen to life. Then Pamela Storrish, the financial director came in, apologising, and taking her place at the table.

I made my presentation. On how I would go about bringing the ITP project into control, on how ITP themselves can be brought into the process to give them confidence, on what checks and balances can be built into the implementation. And then onto several slides on me. How long I'd worked at the company. Some of my successes. None of my failures. How I knew the staff, and could get the best out of them. And finally, without a slide, I told them that I had recently split with my wife, but that they should have no worries about me not working properly. I was fully committed.

I sat down. I was pleased with myself. Whether I got the job or not, I knew I had given it my best shot. Charlie leant across the empty chair between us to squeeze my arm.

Neil looked around the table. "Pamela, what are your thoughts?"

Pamela leant forward, "I was very impressed by Tim's presentation. I think we should let him takeover the ITP contract. And anyway, I don't think we have much alternative. Perhaps he could be given a bonus if he can pull it off. Otherwise I suggest we make him acting head of department for a probationary period, and we see how he does. No extra pay or re-grading now, that can come at the end of the probationary period."

Neil made a couple of notes on the pad in front of him. "OK, Don?"

Don looked round the table as he sat up, "My concern is that ITP are happy. As I told you this morning, Neil, I wonder if we should get in someone from outside to put a bit of weight on the project. Someone who can give Tim some support. Just for one or two days a week. We can't afford for this to go wrong. If we cock up ITP we'll never get another insurance contract, and then the rumours will spread. Can anyone name a bank that doesn't own an insurance company these days?" Don looked around the faces at the table.

I spoke up "No, You cannot lumber me with some overseer. What would the rest of the team think if every decision I make or they ask me to make, has to be double checked with someone else. It'll lead to lack of respect for me, and chaos and delay on the work. I'd rather not even try. And as for management weight or whatever Don called it, I may not have played in your big boy league before, but I know my team and I know how to manage them" I threw Don a challenging look, he smiled sweetly at me.

Neil made more notes. "Andrew?"

"Well I think Tim presented himself well. It's been a long time since I did any implementation or project work, but I thought his presentation of those things was watertight. After that I don't thing I'm qualified to say a lot."

"Charlie?"

"I don't understand half of what Tim was talking about. I've worked in the IT world for thirty years, but I don't pretend I understand what you do. What I do know is that Tim's record as a project manager in this place is second to none. I believe he will be a fine manager, I think he's destined to sit at this table in his own right one day, but I'm worried that we could be asking an awful lot of him at the moment."

Sir Philip leant forward, "Neil, if I may..." He leant across the corner of the table and put his hand on Neil's arm. "Maybe you were going to invite me to speak anyway, but just in case you didn't, I'll jump in. I've had to sit through countless IT presentations in my time. I never really understood a word of them, I just made polite noises and asked simple questions, and for forty years I got away with it. Today I almost understood what young Tim there was talking about. Now I haven't known this company very long, but from what I learnt over lunch, you're between a rock and a hard place. I'd appoint him. Having seen his presentation today, I think ITP would be bloody fools if they didn't give him their vote of confidence. And as for a probationary period, what's the point? He'll either salvage ITP for us, in which case we'll all go down on bended knee to thank him. Or he'll fail, in which case I understand there's a pretty good chance none of us will be here, and if we did survive his failure, then at least we'd have the pleasure of sacking him. Pay the man for the job, its only fair."

All eyes went to Neil. He leant back in his chair and stared at me through half closed eyes for a millennium or two. "Tim, I'm worried about your marital problems. You should be patching up your marriage, not taking on more stress and strains here."

It was obvious I had to answer "If I could, I would. My wife and myself have parted, and I think the chances of patching it up are pretty low. That leaves me free. I don't have domestic responsibilities. If I need to I can work as late as I like. I can take work home at weekends without a wife complaining. I'll admit that some of my emotions have been pretty tied up in the last few days. But that's why I need this job, something to take my mind off my problems. Look, I don't want to work all the hours God sends for the rest of my life. I want a happy home life and I want to want to go home on time. But that isn't going to happen in the next couple of months. So, you need someone capable to work hard and dig this company out of a hole, I'm capable and happy to work hard. It suits both of us." I sat back, there was nothing else I could say.

Neil looked around the room. Then he looked directly at me. "You've got the job. And I agree with Philip,. Charlie, put Tim on whatever salary and grade Perry had from today, and sort out all the pension and car things as soon as you can."

There was a murmur of approval and warm smiles from everyone. 

Then Neil looked at me again "So when can you have a story to tell that we can take to ITP?"

"Well give me a day to understand the state of play, then a day or two to come up with a plan. How about Friday at the earliest."

"I'll squeeze you on that. You said you could work nights. Let's go and see them on Thursday afternoon, three o'clock say. I'll arrange it. I'll be with you, and so will you Don"

Don looked round, surprised. "I'm in Edinburgh on Thursday, seeing some of the Scottish companies."

"Well, now you're going to be here in the morning and at ITP in the afternoon." said Neil firmly. "Tim, both myself and Don will be available at a moment's notice on Thursday morning for any rehearsal or dry run that you want." He looked round the table. "I am sure the word will go out that you are to have full co-operation from any part of the company in the next few days. Won't it, lady and gentlemen? I'll talk to your department Tim at four o'clock. That's so soon that we might even beat the secretaries with the news."

Neil stood up and came round to shake my hand, quickly followed with the others lining up to congratulate me. Charlie asked that I come up to his office when I leave. Philip Cochran was the last. He warmly shook my hand, holding my right shoulder with his left hand as he did it. "Don't worry about playing with the big boys. The game's much the same, it's just that more people depend on you and the numbers have more noughts on the end. Otherwise it's much the same. After you've settled in, perhaps we can have a game of golf, and I'll tell you a few of my secrets." He smiled warmly.




TGI Chronicles Pt. 1 Ch. 06



They all left and I unplugged my laptop and closed down the projector. I made my way to Charlie's office. Charlie welcomed me and told me my new salary. A sixty percent pay rise and a bigger and better car. Not bad for an afternoon's work. I made my way to my desk. 

Dave followed me in. "Well?"

I smiled. "Fucking ace!" he said as he punched the air.

Everything after that is a bit of a blur. Neil came and talked to the department. Everyone smiled at my appointment and there was a round of applause when I said a few stumbling words. Stella looked furious!

I called a meeting of the ITP team to tell them that I'd hold an all day session on the project tomorrow, and we went through what information they could bring to help me understand everything. I told them that I would ask Dave to join us, a couple of them exchanged glances at that, but said nothing.

Dave strolled up, still smiling. I told him that I wanted him around for tomorrow's ITP meeting. He wasn't pleased, but I told him that if I was lumbered with it, then I like to spread the pain to my closest colleagues. 

Then he asked "Are you going to move into Perry's office?"

"Yes, I guess so, but there are other things to be getting on with without worrying about that."

"No, I wasn't worried about where you put your desk. I want to know what you are going to do about Stella?" 

I stopped and looked at him, "Nothing"

"She hates you Tim. You can't have her as your secretary."

"No, but I know that she would never lower herself to be my secretary." I looked at my watch "I bet you she's phoning the employment bureaux as we speak. I bet she'll be having a lot of dental appointments in the next couple of weeks on days when she just happens to be dressed very smart." 

"You bugger! Are you going over the road to celebrate."

"Yeah, why not.?"

And that's what we did. I bought a couple of bottles of champagne, but after I'd had two glasses I took to orange juice. I'm a manager now, I can't get pissed in the pub with the lads anymore.

I got home at about eight. I opened the fridge to see if there was anything for me to eat. There, on the bottom shelf was the bottle of champagne that Beth and myself always kept in the fridge, ready to celebrate life's little pleasures as they came along. What was the point? I've got great news and no one to share it with!

I phoned Phil. He was pleased for me, but it wasn't the same.

Then I remembered. I hadn't emailed Beth. In all honesty, in the excitement of the day, I hadn't even thought of her. It was only that champagne in the fridge that reminded me. Was that good? I had been able to get on with my work with undivided attention. Or was it a sad marker that she was drifting out of my life?

I got into the car, and went back into town to pick up a Chinese takeaway, which I took home and ate sitting at the kitchen table. It was almost ten o'clock when I sat down at the computer to send my email.

How do I start? Last time I'd said just 'Beth', should I ease that to 'Dear Beth'? Yes, I think I will, but I still can't think of putting 'With Love' on the bottom. Stop prevaricating, Tim, get on with it:

Dear Beth. First, I didn't say thank you to you on Sunday for talking to Denny and Phil. Thank you for giving me my friend back, and well done for telling Denny, I know it can't have been easy. I've thought a lot about what you said on Sunday, and I think you're right on some things. I do try to just throw what you did back in your face whenever I can. I'm sorry, it doesn't get us anywhere, and I'll try to stop doing it. I've thought a lot about my demand that you talk to your parents and are honest with them. I talked that through with Denny and Phil, and I became even more convinced that it is a good idea. So, I am not going to back down on that one. I know it will be horrible for you, and dreadful for them. But Mary and George do love you, they won't stop loving you because of what you did, anymore than I can. And maybe, having told them, you will find it easier to talk about your motivations, and your needs. So, as I say, I am not prepared to talk to you until after I know that Mary and George know the full story. However, having told them, I will back off my insistence that you give a written pledge to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I will meet you to explain some of the things that I need you to talk truthfully about. I'll meet you by myself, or with Phil and Denny around, or with this ex-counsellor Rose, whatever you prefer. Finally, I am sticking to my soft deadline of 14th July. If we aren't making good progress, and I mean really talking about what happened and what our marriage means to each of us, by then, I'll sign a lease on the flat and move out. That may not make a lot of difference, we can still meet and talk. But it will be another step on the break up of our partnership, another step to reverse. Now it is getting late and I've had an eventful day. I'm tired. I'm sorry if I've rambled a bit. Love, Tim

There I did say it!

I pressed the Send button, and logged off. I went to bed. I thought about Beth at first. But then I thought about a new car, and what I might have. Something with a bit of panache I thought. Something to make Beth jealous? Something to turn the heads of other girls?

---

Tuesday and Wednesday were just long hours of meeting, of writing all over white boards, of talking and reconciling different people's stories. On the Wednesday I managed to take a couple of hours out in the evening to go to the gym. I have to admit, it helped.

When I got home on Wednesday night, Phil had left a message. I phoned him back.

"Hi, Phil. You wanted me."

"Yes. Denny saw Beth on Tuesday night. I think Denny found it quite difficult."

"Why?" I asked.

I could feel that Phil was trying to pitch his answer so as to tell the truth without worrying me. "Well, Beth seems to be in a bit of a mess. All of her own making of course. But Denny felt quite sorry for her about some things."

"Well, life is shades of grey. It is rarely black and white."

"Anyway Denny's suggestion is for us three to meet over an Indian. How about Thursday night?"

"Can't. Thursday's a bit of a big day at work. How about Friday?"

"OK. How about the one down by the station. We all agree it is the best food."

"OK. What time?"

"Well, let Denny and me do our shopping. So how about nine o'clock."

"That suits me, I was planning on going to the gym at seven, so I'll have plenty of time." I confirmed.

"See you!"

By Thursday morning I knew what needed to be said to ITP and by eleven o'clock I went down to see Neil to show him what I had produced. He fussed over it, nit-picking. Changing words to others that meant the same, changing the order of my presentation and then back to where I started. He didn't like the colours I'd used, he didn't like the background slide style, although both were company standard. He was a pain in the arse! But he is also the boss, so I made the changes. Then we set out to ITP. Me with Neil in his car, Don in his own. 

ITP welcomed us politely, and I was introduced all round. I even met the mysterious Greg Dickens, who turned out to be a very nice guy who I hit it off with wonderfully, and he was to be my opposite number. After Don had made a brief introduction, I made my presentation. They loved it. They asked sensible questions, all of which I could answer. They loved me. 

I left ITP ten feet tall. Neil was far happier company going back in the car than he had been going. When we got back to the office it was nearly seven o'clock. Neil shook my hand in the car park and said "I owe you a drink if not dinner, Tim. But, I'm sorry you are going to have to take a rain check on that. I've got to go." And he got back in his car and was gone.

I went home, again elated, again the bottle of champagne at the bottom of the fridge stared back at me.

Friday was just a day in the office, an anti-climax. But it was the first day that I could give thought how I was going to organise and manage the department. I went to lunch with Darren and Sheila, my opposite numbers as head of banking and investment development teams. More vying for position, more politics.

I left the office in good time to spend an hour at the gym. I enjoyed it. I was beginning to realise that it really helped as a change of pace, an absorbing concentration that allowed the stress to disperse. I showered and went round to the restaurant early. Phil and Denny were already there.

I slapped Phil on the back and kissed Denny, and sat opposite them. I picked up the menu, Phil took it out of my hands "Don't bother, we've already ordered for you."

I looked at Denny, she looked anxious. I looked at Phil, he smiled reassuringly. "OK, how was she?"

Phil answered, "Denny was very worried about her. She's a bundle of nerves, and very unhappy., but I think Denny should tell you."

I turned to Denny, Phil's hand went out to hold hers, lying on the table. "Well, Tim, I don't think I can sort of report a decent structured talk. As Phil says she is a bundle of nerves, she avoids talking about some things, and doesn't always answer direct questions. So, I can only tell you what I discovered or thought, but don't ask for a verbatim account, it would be meaningless."

"OK. Where did you meet?"

"Back at Not Steinbeck's, it was an easy choice."

"OK tell me what you think, and what she told you, however you picked it up."

"Well, it's obvious that she is in a right mess mentally. But I found out that she hasn't told anyone else. As you say, she hasn't said a word to her parents, she hasn't said anything at work, she's just bottled it all up, and it's destroying her."

Phil interrupted "So maybe your idea, Tim, that she has to tell her parents won't be such a bad idea."

Denny looked at him, and then the waiter arrived with some beers for us all. When that interruption was over, Denny continued "You're right. Phil, but she was convinced that the only reason Tim was insisting on her talking to her parents was pure hate and revenge." she looked at me "She thought you just wanted to hurt her and ruin her relationship with her parents. When I told her your reasons, she began to see that maybe there was some logic to it. But she is so scared of the idea that I have no idea whether she will talk to them at all, or how long she might take to do it. I didn't tell her, but I think it's the best thing she could do to save her sanity, she needs to lose the burden of this dreadful secret."

"So you think I am right to force her?"

"Yes, I think you are, but as I say..."

"What else did you learn?"

"Well I started by wanting her just to confirm that it had gone on for three months. I seems so long to me. I don't think I could lie to Phil for a week let alone three months. Anyway, she said that it probably was that long, but that it had started very slowly, and really there was only a short time when there was any intensity to it. I don't think she used the word intensity, but I've forgotten how she described it."

"Go on" I prompted.

Denny looked nervously at me, then glanced at Phil, who I saw squeeze her hand "Well I asked her why she had done it, but I didn't really get an answer. She did say that the affair was almost over, she didn't think it would have lasted more than a day or two, a week at most."

"Did she say why?" I asked.

"No, I just got the impression that she didn't really like this Ken. She did say he was a selfish pig, and not a very good lover."

Phil looked at me "It makes even less sense, why would she have an affair with someone she doesn't like and thinks of as a selfish pig, let alone a poor lover? I can't see any rhyme or reason to it, and I don't think you can either, can you Denny?"

"No. But this reason 'why' is the one bit that she just seems to ignore."

"So what else did you discover?" I asked

At that point, the food turned up, and that distracted us for some time. Once we were all sorted out and eating, I asked again "So, what else, Denny?"

"Well the other things are really just observations. As I said, she is a total mess, she needs someone to talk to. She's totally bound up in guilt. At one point in the evening she was saying that she was convinced that she doesn't deserve to be forgiven. I noticed she used the word 'evil' three times at least in the course of the evening. At other times, she is desperate that you take her back, Tim. She did ask me whether I thought you would, and I told her that I didn't know."

"Is that it?" I prompted

"She got a bit easier with some alcohol inside her. I noticed that she didn't really eat, she just picked at her food. I think she's lost weight, but maybe that's just how tired and drawn she looks."

"Anything else?"

"I know, I am absolutely certain of it, that she loves you Tim. I wondered at first whether she just wanted you back as a matter of pride, or just so as to continue her lifestyle. But the way she talked about you, the way she clung to any little mention of your name, or what you'd said or what you might me thinking, that wasn't just pride. I don't know whether you want her back, but I know she will be heartbroken if you don't..... Sorry Tim, I guess that doesn't help."

"Well it's good for my ego in some ways. But it makes me feel like I'm the bad guy if I walk away."

"Not in our eyes." said Phil.

We went on talking around and around the subject of Beth for the rest of the meal, but I don't think I learnt any more or had any better idea what I was going to do. I asked if Denny was going to see Beth again. She said yes she was, tomorrow morning in fact, and again next Tuesday evening. Phil intervened to say that this would be the last time that Denny would do this sort of reporting back, she felt that she was being unfair on her friend, even if it was in her own best interests. I understood.

I went home, and sat in a chair thinking of Beth and what Denny had told me. I came to no great conclusion, except that Beth obviously needed a friend, and that wasn't me.

I got to bed at about half past eleven that night, hoping I would be tired enough to sleep. I must have dozed off, because I was wakened three quarters of an hour later by Dave phoning me.

"Yes Dave?" I could hear the noise of a party or pub in the background.

"Hi, Tim. We've all decided to hit Shades Club. I thought you might like to come along." He sounded far from drunk, but not entirely sober.

"It's a kind thought Dave, but no thank you."

"Oh go one. You're a bachelor now, it's time you got back in the saddle."

"No thanks Dave. I don't think I'm ready for that yet."

"Oh, don't deny the ladies. They need you."

"I'm sorry Dave, but I'm already in bed. It's just too late."



TGI Chronicles Pt. 1 Ch. 07



On the Saturday I went into the office for a few hours. Partly to work , but I took the opportunity to move into Perry's office. That way Monday morning would be a fresh start.

Other than that, Saturday was a day of chores, from shopping to housework. I did take some time out to go to the gym, I was really beginning to enjoy my sessions there. Afterwards I walked over to Symmonds & Burtons to see if Rose had an inventory of contents for Blindside. Really, I think I was hoping that I'd get a chance to talk things through with Rose, get her to help me see a way forward. Unfortunately, she wasn't there, although her colleague found the inventory I asked for.

Sunday was Phil and Denny's barbeque day. I was certain that Beth wouldn't be there. She wouldn't risk an embarrassing scene, and Denny would have told her that I fully intended to be there. I had been looking forward to it, the first social activity since Fateful Friday. I thought I needed to talk, laugh and joke with other people. I was so, so wrong. No sooner had I arrived than people were asking "Where's Beth?" I should have predicted that, but it came as a hurtful surprise. Mostly I answered with a neutral comment such as "She couldn't make it." A couple of times I tried "We're not seeing eye to eye at the moment" but that led to the knowing wink and "You mean she's back home swearing about you, and you're here enjoying yourself." I left early.

Monday I was in the office by eight o'clock. That meant I was quietly working in my office whilst everybody arrived. So, when I emerged, it was a surprise to everyone, and I could here the murmurs go round the office.

At about eleven o'clock my cell phone rang. The screen said 'Grge&Mary'. I answered it tentatively "Hello?"

"Hello, Tim. It's George here."

"Yes, George. What can I do for you?" I was still tentative.

"Well, I wanted to phone you and apologise. I think I owe you an apology."

"Why's that?"

"Well I have to admit that I had thought the worst of you. And I did rather tell you, for which I'm sorry. But yesterday, Beth told us what has been happening. I guess none of us really know or understand what goes on in other people's relationships, but it does seem as if Beth has rather been guilty of a lot. It must be bloody for you."

"It certainly hasn't been much fun." I said wryly.

"No, I don't suppose it has. Anyway, I thought I ought to say how sorry I was, how sorry we are, Mary is very upset."

"Thank you, George."

And that was it, really. Beth had told her parents. So, the ball was back in my court. 

I went to get myself a coffee. Stella was dressed very smartly, and asked if I wouldn't mind if she could take a late lunch. I happily agreed. Dave was at the coffee machine, and he apologised for his Friday night call, he hoped he wasn't out of order. I assured him that somewhere in his poor befuddled mind there had been a kind thought, and he wasn't to worry. I went back to my office with my coffee, and stared into space for an hour wondering what to do next.

Then Charlie came in to ask if I'd chosen my new company car. Talking to him took up to lunchtime, which was good as I doubt whether I could have worked.

After lunch I picked up my desk phone to call Beth just as my cell phone rang. It was 'Grge&Mary' again. Maybe this was her, knowing that her father had phoned. I answered, but it was Mary.

"I know George phoned you this morning, but I know he won't say what really needs to be said. He's having some difficulty accepting what Beth had to say, he's offered every possible excuse for her, it's a fathers and daughters thing I guess."

"What happened, I know she was petrified to say anything?" I asked.

"Well she went to Church yesterday morning. It struck us as a bit odd, but she was so stressed we thought it might be a good idea, let her find some comfort wherever she can. But she didn't come back when we were expecting. We found out later that she had sat and talked to someone, not the proper vicar, just an assistant, for some time after the service. It must have helped her, as she came home and told us everything. Anyway, George and myself were about to sit down to lunch, having given up waiting for her, when she eventually came in. And she just came out with it. Well, you can imagine Tim. After lots of tears, and her father stomping round the garden for half an hour and quite a lot of shouting, I think we calmed down."

"Well I'm glad you're talking. I believe she'll need that."

"She needs more than talking to us, Tim. If you can find it in your heart, she needs to talk to you."

"Well, I promised I would. Tell her to phone me and we can set up a time and a place, 'though God knows what we can sensibly say to each other."

"I'll get her to phone you. And you can always meet here, George and myself will stay well out of your way. It would just be a place to meet that is private."

"I don't mind. See what Beth thinks."

I came into the office on the Tuesday to an email from Beth:

Dear Tim, Mummy says that you will meet me. Thank you. How about here at 19:30 tomorrow evening? All my love, Beth.

I replied that I would see her there.

I phoned Phil. He was taking a surgery, but the receptionist said she would get him to phone me back. He did so when I was out of the department, but Stella took the message, and I phoned him again, and we actually spoke. Yes, Denny and Beth were meeting this evening, and No, she wasn't going to report back to me on anything that was said, unless Beth asked her to do so. 

There was not a lot to be said, or done, so I got on with work. Stella had dressed very smartly for her dental appointment in the afternoon. I purposely worked very late, it was better than thinking.

Wednesday at work was meeting after meeting as I began to take a firmer grip of the whole department, laying down my standards. There were a couple of heart to hearts with unhappy people who didn't like my standards, but that was to be expected. I left in good time to get to Beth's parents by seven thirty.

As I drove along, I wondered what the evening would hold. I was determined not to just try to hurt Beth with sharp retorts. She was right about that, it got us nowhere.

When I arrived, Mary said that Beth was in her room, probably still getting ready. George took me into his study, as friendly as he could be, he even gave me a glass of his favourite malt whisky from the decanter he kept in there with a brief "You could probably do with this" as he handed it too me. Then I heard Beth on the stairs, I went out into the hall.

Beth was just at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in my favourite dress, a simple silk summer dress in pink. I always said it made her look like the perfect English rose. Mary was standing at the kitchen door, looking apprehensive, but she was the first to break the silence, "Why don't you two use the sitting room. George will be in his study, and I'll be in the kitchen. We won't disturb you, but do call if you want some coffee or a drink."

I led the way into the sitting room and Beth followed me. I sat down in a big comfortable armchair, my whisky still in my hand. Beth sat on the front edge of the sofa, staring at her knees and twisting a handkerchief between her hands. I swallowed my whisky in one gulp. The silence continued.

I guessed it was probably up to me to say the first word, "I should congratulate you on telling your parents what's happened. It can't have been easy. I hope it's made things a bit more relaxed and easier for you."

She looked up. "It was horrid, but I think it has helped." she tried to smile, weakly.

Silence, followed by more silence.

"Look Beth, I don't know what we are meant to say, or even how to get us so that we can just talk. Would it help if I told you some of the things I'm having difficulty with?"

She looked at me. "Well, all I can think of is just to say how sorry I am, and I guess you know that."

"Well that's a start. Tell me what you're sorry for? Hurting me, or having the affair?"

"Both."

"Look, Beth. I really do think, however sorry you are, that you've blown it. You've thrown away what I thought was the most wonderful marriage. I don't think it matters how sorry you are, or whatever reason you had for doing what you did, there just isn't a way back for us."

"No, don't say that. Please Tim..." Her voice had an urgency, a panic, and was breaking with possible tears.

I went on, trying to ease the moment back to something more manageable, "Well, I'm happy to talk. I might find some understanding of what you did so that I can put it to rest, in my past, but that's me being a bit selfish. If you find that too painful, and would rather we just have a clean break, then say so. I'll thank you for the most wonderful ten years of my life, and I'll always regret that you chose to bring it to an end."

I wondered if I should stand up to go. She looked at me and realised that I was at some sort of breakpoint. "I don't understand why you are so committed to divorce. Surely you can only take that decision after we've talked, not before?"

I sat back. "Yes,... Well....Beth, I'll talk for as long as you want, but I think I'll end up in the same place."

Silence

I tried another tack, "Beth, I said I wanted a copper bottomed guarantee that you would tell me the whole truth about anything that I wanted to know, however painful to either of us. Do you want to give me that?"

"I'll try and do whatever you want, Tim. Anything that gives us a chance to get back together, however remote. But please don't ask me about Ken or why I did it. I don't want to even think about him, and certainly not talk about him. And I have no reasonable excuse for what I did. I'm just consumed with hate for myself, for the evil that overtook me, for what I've done to you."

"But, Beth. Surely you know why you did it? Something must have been going through your head at that time?" Now I was pleading, with my voice breaking.

"Don't you think I've asked myself that a thousand times. Lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling, and asking Why? Why? Why? But I can't give you a single valid reason. I have no excuse." she looked at me with tear-filled eyes.

Part of me wanted to take her in my arms and hold her, to let her know that maybe it didn't matter anyway. But I couldn't. There was a little voice in my head saying 'She means that she can't find the appropriate PR phrase to cover her failure, She's decided it's better to say nothing.' I needed a break, maybe another whisky. I got up and walked to the door. Then I realised what that would look like to Beth.

"Don't worry. I was just hoping your father might be a bit more generous with his whisky. Can I get you something?"

"No, nothing." she visibly relaxed.

I went out it the hall. Obviously Mary heard me moving and was there in a moment. I told her I was just after another whisky. She took my glass and went into George's study, only to come out a minute later with a refreshed glass.

I went back into the sitting room, making some light comment about how she had made me turn to booze. Beth looked concerned, and I assured her that it wasn't true. I realised that, if anything, considering the circumstances, I was drinking less than usual. I told her that I was having to learn to iron shirts again.

That led to a few minutes conversation about how we were living since the split. Nothing surprising in either of our lives. In turn, that led to Beth asking if I still intended to move into 'that' flat. She said it with bitterness. 

"I expect so, but I haven't taken the final decision. Make my mind up time is in about a week."

"It seems so final, you leaving all we ever had." she sounded sad.

"Well, it isn't of my choosing." she winced "Oh I don't mean that as a dig at you Beth. But I didn't go looking for it, the flat that is, it came to me. And when I saw it I knew it would be the fresh start I need, not because I'm walking away from you, but because I can't stand living in the house. It's too depressing, I don't want to be reminded at every moment just what I've lost. Everything I touch, everything I look at is a reminder. Sorry, Beth. It just hurts too much."

She sort of smiled reassuringly, "I can understand that. You hate all those reminders. I would love them, I'd cling to them."

"Well, once I've moved out, why don't you move back in? I guess that if it is divorce we will have to sell it, but you might as well live there 'til then. It's probably better that someone is there rather than leaving it empty. I guess we will have to sort out who's paying for what at some stage."

"Don't worry about that. Daddy's promised to pay for anything that gets to be a bit of a problem. And, yes, maybe I will move back. I can't live here forever, they'll drive me mad." She looked sad at the prospect of living alone.

"I'm only moving out because I don't like living there, I'm not running out on whatever we want to do. But, if I am going to move out, we need a traditional splitting-of- the-CD-collection meeting. Could you come over one evening and agree as to what I'll take?"

"You just take whatever you want. I won't argue. And anyway, even if some of the CD's are mine, you were the only one to play them. I never touched the hi-fi, I never thought of it."

"Well, I'd still like you to come over one evening. I'll call you and arrange it, once I'm committed to the flat.."

We fell to silence again. This time it was Beth who had the new thought, "Maybe we could talk about what our future might be, either now or when we meet next. I do want a chance to show you, to prove to you, that we can recapture what we had. I know it won't be the same, but it can be as good as we choose to make it."

"I don't see the point, Beth." I answered "You won't talk about why it all went wrong. I can't see how you can ever make me feel secure again. It would always be like living with a ticking time bomb, adultery may break out at any second."

"I know you feel like that now. But give me a chance, maybe I can convince you that I'll never, ever do such a thing again. I'm beginning to think that I'll never have another man in my life at all if it isn't you, Tim."

I sighed. This was getting us nowhere. Smart retorts wouldn't get us anywhere either.

We talked on for another half an hour. But we gained nothing from it. Eventually I decided that I might as well go home. "I'm sorry Beth, but we're getting nowhere here. You won't talk about what I think we need to talk about, and I don't see the point in talking about the future, or not until we've understood the past. I think I'll just go home."

"Oh. Can't we keep talking, please Tim. It's just so good that you are here, talking. For as long as we are talking I can believe there is some hope."

"Well, we can go on talking if you want. But I think we need to put our thinking caps on about how we can talk about things without getting into this impasse. Just for tonight, I think I'll call it a day. Call me when you can see a way of talking about the what's and why's of Ken and what you did."

I walked out into the hall. Mary was there in an instant, and the George opened his study door. Both looked at me. Beth remained in the sitting room, I think she was weeping. I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head, telling George and Mary all they needed to know. I let myself out of the front door.

I stopped on the way home, I just pulled into the side of the road. I sat and cried. That was the end. There was a useless finality in our conversation. She didn't understand me. She refused to see that I needed to hear the story of her affair with Ken. She didn't see why I knew that this was the end, no marriage could get over the sort of affair she's had, no amount of talking, of goodwill or anything else would get us beyond that insurmountable block. Maybe being married to me never meant as much to her as I felt about our partnership. Eventually, I drove myself the rest of the way home.

At home I poured another large whisky, just not as good a quality. I phoned Phil. I think he could sense my distress, he offered to come over. But there was no point in that. As a compromise, he invited me over to dinner the next night. I eventually let him go to bed. I went to my own bed and cried some more.

It surprised me that I could work as well as I did on the next day. I suspect Dave knew there was something going on, but everyone else probably didn't notice.

I turned up at Denny's and Phil's in the evening, with a bottle of wine in hand. We talked, Denny told me that Beth was really hopeful on Tuesday night that she was going to be able to make a breakthrough when we met. She must be as disappointed as I am. Denny questioned me a lot about why I thought it was the end, why was I so determined that I couldn't go back. It seemed so obvious that I didn't know how to explain it. 

Halfway through the evening my cell phone went off. It was a London number I didn't recognise. It turned out to be Jean. She was coming down at the weekend, and invited me to lunch at the Carlton Hotel on Sunday. There was no real reason not to accept, and it might be comforting to talk to my opposite number in this tragedy. I accepted and rang off and looked up. Phil and Denny were looking at me.

"That was Jean." I explained.

"Oh, good, I'm glad Jean's phoned you." said Phil, with heavy irony. "Who the hell is Jean?"

---

Friday in the office wasn't too bad, and it did have its good moments. Stella came in to see me and tell me that she was going to resign. 

"I'm sorry Tim to be leaving you just when you got to this job. We've known each other for so long, and I was really looking forward to helping you in your new position. But I've been headhunted, completely out of the blue, and the money was is so good I can't afford to turn it down."

How could she even get the words passed her lips? But then I wasn't much better, assuring her how we would all miss her, and she must stay in touch.

After work I went to the gym, but undid my good work by going to the pub afterwards. Many colleagues had left by then, but Don McIntyre was there, and he was pleased to buy me a drink. Apparently I was his hero for salvaging ITP. I pointed out that the project hadn't been under my stewardship for long enough to really cock it up yet, but that I was working on it. 

Alice came in, even later for the Friday night drink than I'd been. I bought her a drink as a start to my apology for deserting her so suddenly at the pizza restaurant. She asked how that evening went. I told her that I thought I'd done quite well on that evening, thanks to her calming ability to send me in with proper resolve. But, it had all gone pear shaped since then. She squeezed my arm and told me that breaking up is a bloody business. I looked into her eyes, they were kind eyes and told me that she understood. I wondered what was in her past.

So, I suggested to Alice that she might like another pizza. I didn't feel like the full Italian that I know I'd promised her. She traded that for a Chinese instead. So, after another drink we set out for the better of the two Chinese restaurants in the town.

Although I had invited her because I was interested what her history was, I never got into that conversation. I bored her with a longer account of my split with Beth, but she feigned sufficient interest for me to keep talking, and I felt better for that. Other than that, we talked about work, it was the first time we'd seen each other since my promotion. 

I wasn't too late home after the Chinese with Alice, and I came in to find a message from Rose inviting me to a light lunch at her house on the Saturday. Well it was a bit late to phone her, so that would have to wait until the morning.

On the Saturday morning I did phone Rose, Charlie answered, and he wasn't phased by my late acceptance of their invite. He wasn't going to be there, he was playing golf, but he was sure Rose would be pleased to see me. I was looking forward to seeing her. 




TGI Chronicles Pt. 1 Ch. 07



I turned up at Charlie and Rose's place to find that Rose was by herself. She had invited me to find out, as a friend, what the position was with Beth, and as an agent, whether I was going to move into Blindside.

Faced with the agent asking me about Blindside, I found it easy to take the final step. Yes I was going to move, probably as soon as next weekend if I could get everything organised.

Then Rose asked about my marriage, was I still certain that it was going to end in divorce? Well, yes I was pretty certain about that too. I was just trying to make up my mind what were the sensible steps before I went to see the lawyers. I wanted to be as easy on Beth as I could, and I wanted to get her to talk to me enough that I could find some satisfactory explanation, something that would allow me to put it all behind me.

Rose had set a table on their terrace, overlooking their immaculate garden, with a light salad ready. Over lunch, Rose invited me to tell her what really had happened. She had whatever Charlie had told her, and the little she had picked up from me. She would like to hear the whole story. So, I told her, from my suspicions on that Thursday afternoon, right through to my futile meeting with Beth on the Wednesday of this week.

Some people are good listeners, Rose was one of them. She didn't interrupt, she watched me and just listened. 

"Thank you for that, Tim. At least I know how you see it. If you do want to take me up on my offer to see if some reconciliation sessions with Beth might help, then I'll ask her about her view of those events, what she was thinking, what she was trying to say. But, for the moment, I wonder if we can go over a couple of things, just so I've got it clear in my head?"

I took a drink from the flavoured water we were drinking. "Sure, anything that might help, you might have a different independent view of things."

"It doesn't really matter what my view is. But it is important to make sure you really do have your own clear view, having thought about everything." She didn't raise her head from collecting a forkful of salad, but she continued "You were a bit ... worse for wear on that first afternoon? That probably made you a bit more volatile would you say?" She did look up to watch me reply.

"Well, I wasn't drunk, if that's what you mean. I knew what was going on, and can remember it all very clearly. But, yes, I guess I was a bit volatile as you call it. My emotions were all over the place." I looked back at her across the table, challenging her to say I had behaved unreasonably.

"mmm... I can understand that. I don't blame you, just having those suspicions must have been an awful shock. No, I was just wondering what sort of person you were for Beth to talk to. But I can ask her that, if it comes to it." She smiled, and poured me some more flavoured water from the bottle. I said nothing.

Rose sat thinking for a little while, staring out at the garden. I watched her between eating my salad. Eventually she looked round at me "As I understand it, Beth did convince you that there was nothing wrong, but you had some deep nagging doubt. Right?" I nodded.

Rose leant back in her chair "But then she asked you what you would have done if she had admitted to an affair. And you told her that it would certainly, beyond all shadow of a doubt, mean a divorce. Right?" 

"Yes. It's obvious. I realised years ago that adultery by either of us would be the end. You, of all people, must know that there are some things that just can't be got over." I was a bit surprised that she should question me on this.

Now she looked innocently surprised. "Oh, Yes. I'm not one of those people who think marriages should be patched up at any cost. For some, divorce is a very sensible answer. No, I was interested that you told Beth, just at that time before she had admitted anything, that if she did admit something then it would be the end. That couldn't have been easy for her, not knowing her secret."

"Well, yes. I guess I didn't make it easy for her." 

We sat in silence for a couple of minutes. Then Rose asked "Tell me, Tim. You said that you've known for years that any affair would result in divorce, when did you decide that? Was it in a discussion with Beth?"

I thought back. "No. I remember, about six or nine months after we were married I was sent on a residential course for a week in a big hotel in London. We lived in a small flat in central London at that time, so I was pretty pissed off. I was having to stay in a hotel when I could easily have gone home, it was only about four miles away. Anyway, after the first day's sessions everyone went to the bar. There was a whole bunch of guys discussing which club or pub they were going to go to, where did they stand the best chance of picking up girls? These were married men, many of them like me, within a few miles of their wives and children. And yet, they were planning to get themselves laid at the first opportunity. It just struck me as wrong."

Rose was doing her watching and listening bit again, "And?" she prompted.

"Well I made some comment to the guy next to me, he was sitting at the bar, and was about forty-ish I guess, and he was also on the course. He said that most of it was just barroom macho talk, most of them would get themselves nothing worse than a hangover. But it led to a conversation about adultery, and what was forgivable. We went on talking about it right through our drinks and dinner and afterwards, back in the bar. I guess it was because I was newly married, that these sort of issues interested me, but I realised then that an affair would be the end."

I sat and looked at Rose. She looked at me, "Did you talk to Beth about your thinking?"

I wasn't sure about that "I can't remember. It wasn't a secret, but whether it ever came up I don't know. But it's a pretty obvious conclusion. It's not exactly a revolutionary idea."

She smiled. "Oh, No! A lot of people feel like you do. But they aren't you, and they aren't in your position. I was just a little surprised that you were just so reliant on a theoretical decision you made some six or seven years ago when drinking and talking to a stranger in a bar. I would have expected that you would have revisited the idea now, for you specifically in the position you are now. That's all."

That annoyed me. "But it doesn't need revisiting."

"Fair enough. It's up to you, it's your life. I was just surprised that you hadn't just checked it through in these circumstances. Not that you know all the circumstances, that's part of your problem. It's just that you are such a thoughtful and analytical person. Anyway, would you like a cup of coffee?"

We had that coffee, and chatted some more. Then Simon and a very well developed blonde girl, the epitome of the blonde bimbo, came out of the house. Simon went over and kissed his mother. I stood up, Simon said hello and introduced me to the fabled Maddy. We chatted politely. Then Simon asked his mother if he could borrow her car, and off they went with Simon waving the car keys.

Rose called after them "Remember, we are visiting your grandmother tomorrow. You need a good night's sleep, so don't be too late" 



TGI Chronicles Pt. 1 Ch. 08



I took Rose's instructions seriously, even if Simon didn't. I slept well. In fact I was beginning to notice that my sleep was beginning to improve. I was still plagued by thoughts and images of all sorts crowding in on me when I first go to bed. But then I do fall asleep for a good six to seven hours. Never quite enough, but more than I was really expecting.

I woke on Sunday morning thinking about Rose's gently pushing of my thoughts and boundaries. Had I, by accident, trapped Beth so that she couldn't confess her affair, even if she had wanted to? But she had denied it, surely she wasn't going to confess it suddenly, late on that Thursday evening. And why had she told me that she wasn't having an affair as she kissed me as she came to bed that night. But then, to be accurate, she had said she will never have an affair. That was in the future tense. So, maybe, at least her declaration that it was over was a truth. Is there some comfort in that?

I got out of bed. The sun was coming through the curtains. I opened them to find a glorious English summer's day. But then I noticed the Whitman's pool with its bright blue cover shouting in the sunlight, almost as if it was laughing at me. 

I went into the bathroom. The corner of the towel rail seemed to be spotlighted. That's where Beth's little g-string bikini had been hung. What was the truth about that? 

I had a shower, dressed and went down to the kitchen. There was still a very dead rose, sadly drooping sideways out of its vase, ready to fall on a piece of lilac notepaper with Beth's writing on it. Somehow it seemed symbolic, but equally it told me that I just can't go on living here surrounded by reminders. I decided that I was moving to Blindside, preferably next weekend.

Over breakfast I thought about phoning Beth and telling her of my decision. Warning her, I guess of something that could be interpreted as another step along the road to divorce. But, I didn't really fancy that conversation. So I phoned Phil instead.

"Hi, Tim. How's you?"

"Fine, I think. Are you and Denny OK?"

"Well I am, and Denny was fine when I left her."

"Oh. Where are you?"

"Walking across the car park at the surgery. What do you want, Tim?"

"Well I was hoping for a drink later. This evening?"

"Not a chance. We're out. Is it anything important?"

"No, not really. It's just that I've decided to move into that flat, and I was hoping I might talk it through with you, and work out how to tell Beth."

"Sorry I can't help you. Is lunchtime any good?"

"No. I've got a lunch with Jean, the wife of the infamous Ken."

"Oh. That could be interesting." He paused "Is there anything she's likely to know or tell you that might help?"

I hadn't even thought that Jean might know something that could change my view of Beth's behaviour. "I don't think so. I think it's just the two injured parties licking their wounds together. Anyway, if I am going to move, I'd be grateful if I could borrow your muscle power." 

"Yes, sure, but isn't it only a couple of suitcases of clothes?"

"No, I think I'll be taking more than that. One of the things I've got to do is get Beth down here to agree the dividing of the spoils. I doubt whether that's going to be easy for either of us."

"No, I can image that. Glad its you and not me, but I guess that goes for this whole sorry saga." He sounded both sad and consolatory. 

"So, are you around next weekend if I hire a small van. It should only be a couple of trips at the most." I asked.

"Sorry, Tim. But not next weekend."

"What you haven't got a couple of hours to spare for the whole weekend?"

"Nope. On Saturday I've got to do the Saturday surgery. In their wisdom, two senior partners have decided that it's OK for them to have their holidays at the same time. So we're pretty stretched. I'm on call all day 'til eight o'clock on Sunday morning. After surgery, I've got half an hour to get to my match, and when that finishes, I can't go to the drinks because I'm on call, and anyway I've got to come back here to check up on all the resident patients."

"So what about Sunday then. Don't tell me your going to be busy all day."

"Alright, I won't tell you. But we've got to go to lunch with Beth's parents."

"Pardon?"

"That's what I said. Apparently Mary invited us. I don't think she's interfering, or at least Denny doesn't seem to think so. She just wants to get to see us, being as we're being such good friends of Beth's in these difficult times. Something like that." 

"Well. I'll count you out then."

"Sorry Tim. How about doing it one night in the week?"

"Well, it might come to that. I'll have a phone round and see if someone can give me a hand at the weekend. If I can't find anyone, then I'll give you a call."

We ended there. I sat and stared out of the window. Come on Tim, be decisive! I phoned Beth.

"Hi" she answered, somewhat neutrally I thought.

"Hi, Beth. Are you OK?"

"Oh, yes. I just wasn't expecting a call from you. Not that I haven't wanted you to call, it was just that I wasn't expecting..."

"It's OK Beth. I just wanted to phone you and warn you that I've definitely made my mind up. I'm going to move out."

There was silence at the other end. I wished I could see her face.

Eventually, she answered. "Do you really feel you've got to."

"Yes. I'm sorry Beth, but I do. At first, when this option came up I liked the idea because I just wanted to run away. But it's not like that now. It's just that this house represents so much of what we used to have, what we achieved, and I am beginning to accept that we can never have it again. It just hurts me to live here."

"I'm sorry Tim."

"Yes, well..." I didn't know what to say. "Look, Beth. I do really want you to come over one evening this week so that you can see what I'm thinking of taking."

"Oh, Tim, I've no right to demand that you leave anything that you want. I don't need to do that. But I would like to see you, perhaps to talk about something else, anything that is safe territory."

"Well, there you are then. I can't do Monday or Tuesday, but any night after that." I pushed for agreement.

"Well how about Thursday then. I'll come over at eight o'clock. Perhaps I could bring something for us to eat?"

"Yes, why not. That would be good. I'll see you on Thursday then."

"Well, look after yourself. I'll look forward to Thursday." She was almost whispering, but plaintively. 

"Do give some thought to what you want to keep, I don't want to take something that is important to you, Beth."

"Oh, its all important to me, Tim. But you can take whatever you want."

This conversation was drifting out of hand. I wasn't sure whether it was like a Noel Coward play, it was all going on under the actual words, or like a teenage lovers call, neither wanting to say goodbye. That would take someone more independent than me to decide. In the end, it was Beth that managed to bring the conversation to an end. It left me with a feeling of so much unsaid, so much sadness. 

I got myself a coffee, pulled myself together and threw away that dead rose and the sheet of notepaper, but I noticed that I didn't crumple it up, I just laid it in the bin - just in case I wanted to retrieve it later. Symbolism.

---

I found Jean in the bar of the Carlton Hotel, she was sitting at a table in the corner by herself, with an untouched drink in front of her. I went over and kissed her on both cheeks, and sat down. We were just getting through the opening pleasantries when a waiter came over for my drinks order and to leave two menu's on the table in front of us. 

"So, Tim, how have you really been?" She asked, implying that my earlier reply had been pure politeness, which it was.

"OK, I suppose. It all takes some getting used to. Beth is living with her parents, and I'm still at the house, but I've found a flat and I shall be moving there very soon."

"So you and Beth are splitting up then?"

"Yes. I can't see a way back. I assume you and Ken are going to divorce?" I asked, but immediately regretted it. That isn't the sort of question I should be asking, what if they were reconciled and happy. So I quickly added "From what you said that morning, I assume that's what you're doing."

"Yes, I'm putting everything in hand to get rid of the bastard. But I'll tell you about that later. I'm just so sorry that you and Beth are splitting up over this. You were the perfect couple and I hate to think that that little weasel has caused you all this pain. I should have chopped his balls off years ago. I suspect you're not the only husband who would have been protected"

The waiter brought me my gin and tonic and I took a leisurely sip. "One of the few things I clearly remember from that morning was you saying 'they're both adults'. It was as much her as him, I'm sure. He didn't rape her, or not serially anyway."

She looked at me. "Well Ken and myself haven't been happy for years, but I was quite jealous of what you and Beth had. I remember it made me cry for what I should have had once."

"Oh." I'm not sure what I was meant to say to that, so I asked the simple question "When was that then?"

"Oh, a couple of years ago now, not long after we moved in. I got back late one Friday with a large brief to read. So, after breakfast on the Saturday I thought the best thing to do was get it over and done with. I set up a chair in the garden, right next to the hedge to your place, and settled down to read. Then you and Beth came out and were wandering around, planning on how you were going to lay out your garden."

She stopped for a sip of her drink, so I interjected, "We had lots of those sessions. Planning the garden was one of the hardest bits. Certainly harder than actually doing it."

"Well," she continued "I just sat there listening to you two. And you had such a loving way of talking to each other. I guess my job makes me listen to witnesses, picking up nuances and use of words, but you two were so gentle with each other. One of you would tentatively put forward an idea, the other would quietly disregard it if they didn't like it or add something extra to it if they did, and then feed it back. It was a ballet of gentle words. It made me weep, because I don't think I ever got to that level of relationship with Ken, and I certainly wasn't going to then. It was something I was never going to have, that sort of complete relationship. And that made me sad then and it still does. But now it's worse, because it's all spoilt for you as well."

She looked up at me with wet eyes. Then she took a little lace handkerchief out of her handbag and dabbed the corner of her eyes. There was nothing I could say.

So a change of subject seemed a good idea. I picked up the menu and studied it, before announcing I was going for the traditional Sunday roast, carved from the trolley. Jean said that she thought that was a good idea. She signalled to the waiter and then gave her order, and ordering wine without even looking at the wine list, just a simple "And a bottle of your very best claret."

We didn't talk about personal issues again until we were sitting down with our roast beef in front of us. When Jean said, "Let me tell you about myself and Ken."

"Go on." I encouraged.

"Well, we've been married for twenty two years. To start with it was a good, not wonderful, but we were both very ambitious and we supported each other well. I think both of us were happy. I'm sure Ken played around a bit in those days, but he always came home and I managed to ignore it. I blocked it out. That was Ken, he liked to think of himself as God's gift to women, it was his little ego trip. I did quite well in my job, despite taking time out to have the boys. Ken was doing very well at the same time, although I always, year in year out, earned more than he did. But some years, only just. Ken did very well, he was in charge of the air fuels division of Masham Oils and on their main board. But, about ten years ago, there was an attempted takeover, and there had to be economies and Ken was an economy."

"I didn't realise that he had held such a senior executive position." I said.

"I'm surprised he didn't tell you. He told most people at the first possible opportunity."

"No, he was more noted for telling them about his Bentley."

"Ah, Yes! His Bentley." she paused, looking into space, but then continued, "Well, after that, he tried to set himself up as a consultant to the airlines, but it never took off, if that isn't a pun for that particular business. Most years it cost money, and my career and earnings were going from strength to strength. Despite all his talk, Ken was a kept man, and had been for the last ten years."

"Good heavens. I would never have guessed." I was genuinely surprised.

"Well, I didn't say anything, and Ken seemed to need the ego boost of being seen as a success. That's his weakness, he likes nice clothes, nice cars and a very expensive lifestyle."

"So what happened that ended you up where you are now?"

"Well, maybe it was his ego, maybe he did really love her, I don't know. But about eight years ago Ken had an affair, with a woman who worked for one of the airlines. When I found out, I threw him out. I was going to get a divorce. But he was so repentant, and the boys were eight and ten and they needed their father. So like a fool, I took him back."

"So that's why you weren't surprised that he'd done it again." I observed, as I added some horseradish sauce to my mouthful of beef.

"Oh, it's worse than that. About five years ago he had another affair. I had suspected him of having plenty of dalliances in between, but this one was so blatant. It was a neighbour, and their au-pair knew all about it. That's why we bought the house here, to get him away from her and London."

"Nasty. That must have been a pretty rough time for you, especially as it was the second time around. That's what I'm scared of." was all I could say.

"So, I threw him out again, and this time I served the divorce papers. Then he got pathetically desperate. Begging to come back. Of course it was a moments aberration, he was so sorry, never again, the whole works. Well, I thought about it, the boys were still in their middle teens. And somewhere I clung to the idea that we could recapture something we once had. But I wanted some guarantee that it would be for good, that there was some motive that would stop him from straying again. So, in the end, I had the guys at work draw up a pre-reconciliation agreement."

That was a new idea to me, "I've heard of pre-nuptial and divorce settlements, but not pre-reconciliation." 

"Yes, well it is a bit odd ball. But in it he recognises that all the assets of the marriage were paid for by my earnings or my inheritances, and that he has no claim on any of them. In the event that he gives me a cause to divorce him through anymore adultery, then he accepts that the settlement would be that he walks away with none of the assets, and a clean break where he is totally dependent on his own earning power. What's more he is responsible for half the maintenance and education of the boys until they are twenty-one or in full time employment, whichever comes first."

"Is that sort of agreement legal?"

"Possibly not, it would have to be proved in Court. But it was drawn up by the best divorce lawyers in London. If he wants to fight it he'll have to go to Court, and then he's going to have to find a good lawyer, and the best ones are colleagues of mine, and he'll need a very deep pocket for their fees. I reckon I'll get away with it."

"So Ken doesn't have very good prospects." 

"I reckon he is down in Spain, in a house that is going to be sold over his head in a couple of months, trying to work out how he can preserve a decent way of life. He'll be a very worried man. I reckon that he'll be on state support within the year. And that feels very good!" she said with a satisfied smile.

"Surely, he's got nothing to lose if he fights it? He might as well try." I observed.

"So, I shall offer him a small bonus over the basic agreement. I'll let him off the bit about paying for the boys, I wouldn't want them dependent on him anyway. And then I'll offer him a small lump sum to settle. Just enough to last him three months say. He'll take it, he'll be desperate enough, especially if I threaten to take a long time to settle if he fights."

"You really have got this sorted out. No wonder you're a success in your job."

By now the waiter was back to clear the table and offer us the dessert menu. I chose apple pie, she chose nothing. 

When I had my pie in front of me she went on with her plans "I'll sell the house here, although I am wondering whether I'll lease it out for the next year, and then sell it. I shall also sell the villa in Spain, especially if Ken can still be there when the agents turn up, just as a nasty surprise for him. I'll then buy myself something bigger in London, and get on with life."

"Well, it sounds as if you've got your act together. I suppose it was all a less of a shock to you." I said.

"But that's not the best bit, Tim. I've still got my revenge."

"Pushing Ken into poverty isn't enough? I would have thought that he would have got a message out of that." I observed.

"Oh, no. He knew all that was coming, or at least he knew that it was what he was risking. No, this is personal. I've had too many nights lying in an empty bed planning my revenge, and now is my moment." She paused for effect, and looked over the table at me.

"So what have you got planned? Does it involve rusty scissors.?" I said, slightly disturbed that Jean seemed to be enjoying this a little too much.

"Well, what is Ken's most precious possession? What gave him the most pride of ownership?" she asked.

"I don't know. I guess it can't be you, seeing how he's treated you. The boys?"

"No. He's fond of them, and he has been a good father. But they are young men now. They don't need him very much. Of course they are welcome to keep in touch if they want. But, no, they aren't his weak spot."

I admitted, "OK. I give up. I don't know." 

"His Bentley!" she said, in triumph.

I paused to think about it, and yes, it was obvious. "I can imagine that. He's very proud of it."

"Well it doesn't interest me at all. But to Ken it was the height of his ambitions. He was a Bentley expert since he was a schoolboy. I bought that car for him for our tenth wedding anniversary, with some money a rich uncle had left me. It's a 1933 Mulliner body, built to specification for Lord Someone-or-Other. Its got lots of features that are unique, built especially for His Lordship. And another load that are first time fittings for Mulliner on any car. We've got all the documents and its history from the hand written specification onwards. Lord Whatever-his-name-was took delivery and then died in 1934. His widow used it a bit, but she led a very quite life at their country house. The family moth-balled it at the outbreak of war in 1939, and it didn't come out again until they used it for the Coronation in 1953. Then it was bought by a distant nephew in 1960, which is why he had access to all the family papers from His Lordship. He also started a log of every journey, every service, almost every time he cleaned the bloody thing, which we've got. I bought it for Ken from his estate. Apparently, it is a unique car, and Ken is so proud of it."

The more I thought about it, the more I did remember how much Ken loved that car. "I remember talking to him once when he had it out. He was like a new Dad with his first born son. To be honest I went back to Beth and said he was a bit freaky about it. For the whole time we were talking I don't think he took his eyes off it, and he would keep gently polishing away some mark that he thought he saw, then he would stand back and spot another mark that wasn't there. He must be seriously pissed that he hasn't got it anymore."




TGI Chronicles Pt. 1 Ch. 08



"Oh Yes. I fully expect that he will try to get it back as part of a settlement. Fat chance. I have better plans for it."

"Tell me." I was intrigued.

"Well, I've found a video company, and I'm going to have a video properly made for Ken's entertainment. A director, two cameras, a cameraman and a sound man, proper editing, the works. And I've found Ken's favourite Bentley expert. He's a nice old fool, and very cheap to hire. So, I'll have a video of him bringing the car out of the garage, and going over it with a running commentary, singing its praises. Ken will be so proud. And then he can value it. I'm expecting somewhere between seventy-five and a hundred thousand. Then we'll have a little film of me, or you if you like, taking the expert back to the station in it, waving him off on the platform and all that. Then we'll take the car back to park it in the middle of the drive. And we'll have a big scene, of me pouring ten litres of strong paint-stripper all over it."

"Ughh!" was all I could say, thinking what damage that would do.

"And when that's finished bubbling away. We can have another big scene of me pouring twenty litres of petrol over it!"

"Oh, you wouldn't."

"Oh yes I would. With a close up of me striking the match. Think about it, Ken is facing poverty. And he sees me making a bonfire of one hundred thousand pounds, and its pride and joy car. I reckon it will reduce him to tears."

"I would think so!"

"Well we'll have some closing scenes of the truck coming to collect the wreck, taking it off and dropping it into a crusher. Did you know, you can hire the crusher in our local scrap yard for individual crushings? I haven't made my mind up yet as to whether I'll bother to send Ken the little cube of his crushed Bentley, just as a little keepsake."

She finished with a triumphant smile. I was stunned. Neither of us said anything for a while. The waiter came to clear the table and to bring our coffee.

Then I thought I had to mention the obvious fault in the plan, before she decided to do it for real. "Don't you think it would be rather a pity to destroy an important piece of motoring history, let alone so much money?"

"Well I can afford it, just this once, as a special treat. But, yes, destroying it is the bit I don't like. Personally, I don't give a damn about the car. But I guess it would be a bit naughty to deliberately destroy it. That's why I've come up with an alternative ending."

"Which is?" I asked, relieved.

"Well it will be a shorter film, but it will start exactly the same. The valuation and trip to the station and all that - the bits that Ken will like. But then it'll be me speaking straight to camera, and I've got to script it absolutely right, to lead him all the way up to the edge of the cliff before I push him over. It'll be about how the car is important. How I know it was Ken's pride and joy, but it is a remnant of a marriage that is over, and I've got to do something with it. Something where the car will be looked after, is in the hands of a safe and caring owner. So, maybe its time to make some reparation. All the sorts of phrases that will give him hope. Then I shall, on screen, transfer ownership to you, Tim."

I was struck dumb. Eventually, I managed "You can't."

Jean was smiling broadly. "Of course I can. It's my car and I can do what I like with it. And in my book, Ken took the most precious thing you had away from you, it's only fair that you get the most precious thing he had. I might use that phrase on film, it sums up the transaction rather nicely, I think, don't you?."

"No, you can't give me a hundred thousand pound car. And anyway, what would I want with a vintage Bentley. No! Jean. You can't. I'm sorry. It's a nice idea, but..."

"Oh yes I can. All I ask is that we have a contract that you will keep it for five years, long enough for Ken to give up hope. For those five years I'll pay for all servicing and insurance - I would've had to do that for Ken if we were together, so that's no skin off my nose." Again she smiled sweetly.

"But I don't want it. I wouldn't know what to do with it." I protested.

"Well, it's a simple choice. You can accept it. Or you can watch a bonfire. It's your choice, Tim."

She looked at me, and I knew she was serious.

"I guess you leave me no choice. Thank you."

"Cheer up. Enjoy it. It can add a certain panache to a day at the races or a country picnic. And it's not going to cost you a penny for the first five years."

"Well, all I can say is thank you."

"My pleasure. Eight years of living in doubt, with a dying marriage, I deserve a little revenge. And this is legal!" she was still smiling "I have to remember that, I'm a professional lawyer after all."

We sat in silence, looking at each other, Jean smiling triumphantly. But then I began to warm to her plans, I began to smile "Is there any chance I could do a piece to camera?"

"Yes, of course there is. What do you want to say?" she looked interested.

"Well I'd have to script it carefully, rather like you for your bit, but I was thinking along the lines of 'how I understand that the car truly belongs to him - Ken - but it won't matter if I use it for a while. It might be a bit of fun to use it in the afternoons, it'll probably be pleased that it's out being driven, nothing serious. It doesn't mean anything.' That sort of thing, plenty of innuendo."

"Oh, yes. I like it. Don't say anything you don't feel happy with, but along the lines of 'It'll be a good ride for the afternoon.' I know how Ken talks and thinks, I might even be able to find some phrases he's used about one of his women."

"I'm beginning to think this might be fun." I laughed, and leant across the table conspiratorially. 

"I was going to have a scene of you just driving off into the sunset." Jean was inventing again "but how about that you drive a little carelessly, nothing serious, just enough to worry him. Or crash the gears..."

"And then I'll look to camera again, shrug my shoulders and say 'It's only a car, nothing important - like another man's wife!" I smiled across to Jean, who was laughing happily.

There was not a lot more to say after that. I asked when all of this was going to happen. Apparently not until after Ken had agreed to the divorce and the settlement. And, whatever the settlement was going to finally be, I was convinced that she would keep the Bentley out of it, and make sure that she never had to hand it over to Ken, just so as she could have her revenge on film.

As we parted, on the steps of the hotel, Jean turned to me, "The Bentley is not conditional on your relationship to Beth. But Tim, you're a nice guy. Please don't make my mistake. Don't think you can build a happy marriage with a cheater. She's done it once, she will probably do it again, and even if she doesn't, the marriage will die in that arid world of doubt and suspicion. My advice is to get rid of her and start again. It may seem hard, but I know, I've been there. Now, look after yourself and I'll be in touch."

We kissed and parted. I felt she was a bitter and unhappy woman, even if she was now taking her life into her own hands. I didn't want to end up like her. I must make the right decisions for my life, not let it drift into that 'arid world of doubt and suspicion' before it is too late.



TGI Chronicles Pt. 1 Ch. 09



Monday and Tuesday I was away seeing clients. I stayed away on the Monday night, after all there was nothing to go home for. I stayed away on the Tuesday night as well, but that was a little more unplanned.

I had phoned Greg Dickens of ITP, with the intention of meeting him and beginning to build some relationship with him which I thought was vital to the project. I reminded him that he had intended to buy me lunch, how about it now? His idea was that he would buy me dinner, but only if I could promise to make it late enough and alcoholic enough to warrant him staying in a hotel. OK, I said, somewhat dubiously, but he was the customer.

I needn't have worried. It turned out that he was a happily married man with two young children. But his wife was away visiting her father in Scotland, as he had just come out of hospital. Her mother had taken the opportunity to come and stay with Greg to look after the children. Unfortunately, his wife's mother and father were divorced, and this ex-wife took every opportunity to tell Greg all that was wrong with his father, and how her daughter shouldn't be visiting. Greg was in need of a break, an excuse to be away for the night.

So we went out to an excellent, and expensive, dinner at ITP's expense. Followed by an evening drinking and ending up in a lap-dancing and pole dancing club. Neither of us bought any lap dances, but Greg and myself got very drunk and thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it. I do remember Greg and myself pledging our life-long friendship to each other somewhere between the club and the taxi rank at about two o'clock in the morning.

I woke up with a horrible hangover, but feeling relaxed. That boys' night out was as good a stress buster as a visit to the gym. It just killed more brain cells.

I got back to the office mid-morning on Wednesday. I sat at my desk drinking a cup of coffee when Dave came in. He looked at me "Good night last night?" he asked, smiling.

Why do guys always enjoy their friend's hangovers? "Yes. Educational." I responded.

"What did you learn, other than alcoholic beverages give you a hangover?"

"I don't think I wish you to pursue this line of enquiry. But I have one of my own. Are you busy at the weekend?"

"Might be. Why?" he looked at me suspiciously.

"Because I need your body." I smiled "Mainly to help me carry crates and boxes and some furniture. I'm going to move into a flat down on River Mead."

"Class! Sure, I'm not doing anything particular. Maddy and me have had a parting of the ways. When?"

"I'd heard. Sunday?"

"Sure. What time? Who told you?"

"How about eleven o'clock. Then we can shift one load and take a pub lunch as a well deserved break. It should only take two runs in all." I chose to ignore his other question.

I phoned Rose to tell her I was ready to sign the lease for Blindside. Apparently it was in her office, waiting for me. So I went along at lunchtime and signed. So simple, so quick, a new phase of my life opens up.

Later in the day I went to find Mr Jameson, the office superintendent. I explained to him my problem, and within half an hour he was back in my office asking for my car keys, so that he could put a set of crates into it.

Then I phoned a van hire company, and booked a van for the weekend. It was a lot cheaper than I was expecting, which made a change.

Back home that evening, I started the job of packing up my clothes and the things that were obviously mine. I was surprised at how easy it was. Not a single heart string was plucked, it was a job to be done and I got on with it.

Thursday came and went in the office. I worked a bit late, but got back to the house by seven-thirty. As I came in the front door I was aware of a different atmosphere. The odd picture missing from the walls, the crates packed with clothes lined up in the hall. It was becoming just a house, slightly denuded of personal history. 

I shut the front door. Then I thought, it would be more welcoming to Beth if I left it open. But then again, if it was shut she would have to knock or use her key. I wondered which, so I shut it. Beth pressed the bell at two minutes to eight, with her hands full of bags and holding a casserole dish. "Sorry I knocked, I couldn't get my keys out. Take this, there's more in the car." 

Once in the hall, she looked round at the crates, at the bare patches on the walls, her face fell to sadness. She looked at me and her eyes filled with tears, she sniffed and straightened, "I've brought coq-au-vin, it just needs heating through." And she headed for the kitchen.

She busied herself in the kitchen, determinedly not looking at me. I watched her for a while. She may not be the most beautiful woman in the world, but she pressed my buttons. I was aware how graceful, she was, how her breasts moved softly under her summer dress, how her neck looked soft and vulnerable as she filled saucepans with water at the sink. But I was also aware that she was a total mystery to me. 

I broke my own daydream to break the ice, to mention the unmentionable, "It seems like half a lifetime since we were both in this kitchen. I've come to think of that day as Fateful Friday." It was my half hearted attempt to be light about the core of our pain.

Beth looked round at me "It's a good name." she said quietly. Her eyes said so much more about hurt, remorse, and sadness.

"Have you decided what you will do? Are you going to come back here?"

"Yes, I guess so. I have no where else to go. Life with Mummy and Daddy is so full of things not being said, I think I'd rather be here by myself."

"How did they take it?" I asked

"Well, Daddy hasn't found a way to talk about it, yet. It'll take him a couple of weeks, but then we'll sit down for a heart to heart, but only when he has something to say." 

"And your mother?"

"Ah. She's a bit more of a problem. She's happy to talk about it. In fact she talks about little else when we're alone. But I don't mind that, because I'm thinking of nothing else anyway. But she's promised not to interfere, but she would love to. So she sort of prowls round the edge looking for a place to jump in and help. She has a great belief that she can make it better, sort it out for me. Yet she is the one who really condemns me for what I did, she is very black and white about that. So it's a bit mixed with her." She looked at me and shrugged.

"Well, I guess that's what mothers do. I hear she's invited Phil and Denny over on Sunday." I thought I would let her know that I knew.

"Yes. I think its part of her prowling. She's just seeing if there's a way in through them. But don't worry about it, she knows that she's not allowed to really interfere, Daddy will stop her." She had plates and cutlery in her hand "Shall we eat in the dining room. This may be the last time we eat together in this house?"

"No. Let's eat in here. I'm not in the mood for formal dining." I answered.

She put the plates down on the kitchen table, and started arranging the cutlery. I went and picked up a bottle of wine from the rack and opened it. I got the wine glasses out of the cupboard, and put them on the table. She moved the salt and pepper to the table from the cabinet where they're stored. We worked in some familiar, choreographed ballet. We didn't talk.

Eventually she announced that it was ready. We sat down opposite each other.

"I thought I might take the small television, and I have to admit I'm tempted to take the hi-fi if you're sure you don't want it." I opened with the discussion we were here for.

"Oh do. Take want you want, Tim. I meant it. I know you'll leave me enough to live with. Are you going to take any furniture?"

"Well I'll take that little antique bureau that came from Mum and Dad. I was thinking about that coffee table that we lost up in the spare bedroom, it doesn't go with this house and it might go in my new living room. But, other than that, I don't think so. Oh, I might take the laundry basket from the bathroom if it doesn't worry you, and some of the lamps."

"Oh Tim, I don't understand why you have to go." She started to cry and took a sip of wine to distract herself.

"It just hurts too much to live here. On Saturday, I opened the bedroom curtains and it was a beautiful day, and it all came flooding back to me, that afternoon when I saw you and Ken. Their swimming pool was staring back at me and laughing. It was a sort of day-mare. It was horrid. Everything I look at, everything I touch reminds me and I can't go on living with that."

She sat and listened to my answer, and then considered it. "I can understand that. But, in some perverse way, I think I would like to be surrounded by things that remind me of what we had. Going back to live in my old bedroom with Mummy and Daddy was like going back to a time before you existed to me. I need to have our things around. I guess it will fade in time."

"Well, I know it is actually fading with me already" I said that to comfort her, that we would both come through the pain, but then I realised it sounded that I was moving away from her, which I was, but tonight wasn't the time to say that, so I went on "You know that picture you gave me for my birthday, the one that you smuggled home from that long weekend we had in January?"

"Yes, it's in the sitting room, or have you moved it?"

"No, It's still there. When I came back from viewing this flat, and knowing it represented something clean, that would take me away from the pain of you and Ken, well I looked at it and it seemed to represent all that had gone wrong. I still loved it as a picture, but you must have bought it way back in January, after I'd raved about it in that window. You smuggled it back in the car with me there all the time. That seemed so loving and thoughtful Then you gave it to me on my birthday, and by then you were in the middle of your affair with Ken. Well, I thought that there was no way I could take it to the flat. But, I looked at it last night, and I thought 'It's just a picture, a picture I like, I'd be a fool to lose it just because of what you did.' So I'll take it. I'm over hating it."

"You are sure that we can go on talking, trying to rebuild something even after you move, aren't you Tim?

"Yes, Beth. I promise, I'm getting over hating you. I'm still angry that you chose to hurt me as you did, but I'm mainly just sad these days. Sad that my happiness was thrown away so lightly. You must have known what you were doing. You knew what risks you were taking." I stared at her.

"When you were a little boy and were doing something wrong, shop lifting a chocolate bar for a dare or something, did you really think about the possible consequences. You knew it was wrong, you knew you would be in trouble if caught, but I bet you didn't really follow all those thoughts to their logical conclusion, because you weren't going to get caught." She looked at me.

"But you weren't a child, Beth. You are a grown adult. You should have known." I felt my anger rise.

"Like a housebreaker believes he'll be caught and sent to prison? If it really worked like that for adults, the world would have a lot less crime. No, Tim, I didn't think about ending up like this."

"But, why did you do it? There must have been some reasons. Weren't you happy?"

"Yes, I was happy. I didn't know how happy I was, but I do now." She sounded bitter.

"I'm sorry Beth, I do still want you to talk about why and what you did."

"There's no point. It'll only hurt you more."

We stared at each other in a searching challenge. Neither of us conceded or dropped our eyes. So I tried another question "Well, tell me this: Did you and Ken ever do it in this house? In our bed?"

She continued to stare at me, but she blinked at my question "Yes and no. Yes we did it twice in this house, but always in the guest bedroom. I could say it was because I wanted to protect the sanctity of our bedroom, but it was more practical than that. I was scared you would notice if I changed the sheets on our bed, but you never went into the guest room from one weekend to the next." She hung her head, in defeat. But it was an honest answer, not the PR half truth that she might have invented.

"Well that solves one problem for me. I really wanted to take the duvet and bed linen from our room because they'll go better with the flat's décor. But I felt guilty about doing that, because they are the better quality and match our decoration. So I was going to take the guest room stuff. Now, there's no way I'm taking that. Sorry to ruin your décor, but I'll leave you to sleep in your shared bed. I guess it's appropriate to say you made it - you sleep in it." I shouldn't have said that, and I regretted it. The conversation was slipping out of my control.

Beth sat there, in quiet silence. She took my attack without comment. Instead she cleared our plates, and stood up. She returned to the table with dessert plates and a homemade bannoffee pie, my favourite. 

"I'm sorry. I promised I wouldn't do that."

"It's OK. I hate it and it seems so destructive of you, but I know I deserve it." She smiled, painfully.

I changed the subject, "Do you mind if I take the garden table and chairs and the barbeque?"

"I guess not. But I thought this was a flat?"

"It is, but it has a roof garden overlooking the river." I said.

"Do you think, Tim, that I could come and see it sometime. It tortures me to think of you living away and I can't even imagine where you are. I need to see you there. It would help me. Please."

"Yes, of course you can." I went on to tell her about Blindside, in as much detail as I could. She listened intently. And then she said "It sounds wonderful. I can see why you might want to go there. I'd still like to see it sometime. Has Phil and Denny seen it?"

"No, not yet. I thought they would at the weekend. I wanted their help to move in, but they can't do it. So I've got Dave from work to help me."

"So, you'll be gone by as soon as this weekend?"

"Well, give me Monday, in case I've forgotten something, but Yes."

"Oh." Was all she said, and then she sat in silence.

I broke it, as I finished my pie. I'd noticed that Beth had not even taken a slice. I returned to the purpose of the evening "You said I could have the barbeque and table and chairs. Can I have some of the pots from the patio, as well?"

"Sure, whatever. But you haven't the faintest idea what's in them or how to look after them. You're useless at looking after flowers, Tim." She sounded surprised.

"Well, Yes. I thought I'd just take the ones that I thought might look pretty on this roof terrace. A few of the big ones, with some little ones to put around them, and maybe a hanging basket. And I promise to look after them, I'll water them and everything...." I trailed off, realising that she was right, I was no gardener, I'd always just done what she'd told me to do in that department.

"But you don't know what the flowers are, how big they'll grow, what colours they'll be, how to feed them, even how to water them. Let alone which ones are annuals and which ones are perennials. Do you want me to come over and tell you?"

"No, I'll manage. I've just got to learn. Do you want a coffee?" I asked.

"Yes please." She stood up and started clearing the table, and I went about making some coffee. We were back to the choreographed ballet, the steps learned over ten happy years.

We took the coffee into the sitting room, I saw her notice the down turned photographs, but she didn't say anything. 

Once we were settled, I turned to her, "Tell me, when you refused to come off the pill when I turned thirty, was that because of Ken? You couldn't risk it?"

She sat in silence thinking about my question, idly stirring the milk into her coffee. Then she looked up and said "Mummy keeps saying that this wouldn't have happened if we had children." I thought, 'here it comes, the PR red herring', but she continued "I don't know. As to why I didn't come off the pill then, and I know that's what we always agreed, it was something deeper than Ken, although he was part of it. Not because of my having sex with him. No, it was because I was in this sorry state where I was having an affair, I wasn't fit to be a mother. I was obviously too screwed up. There were no certainties in my life." 

She looked up at me "Does that make sense?"

"No, not really. You said you always loved me, even through all of this. And that's a contradiction in itself. But surely you knew you wanted children with me, or had you lost sight of that as well?"

"No. I did know, all through the Ken period, that you were my only true life partner. Ken never entered my head in any meaningful position in my life. No, not wanting to get pregnant had more to do with me being in such a muddle." She looked at me, and obviously she could see I wasn't happy with her answer "Don't read too much into it Tim. Do you think it's sensible for a woman to get pregnant if there is any recent doubt about her life or her marriage, even if she is deeply committed. Look, I desperately want to reconcile with you now. I want to start building a new life with you, but I don't want children yet. I'd want to be sure that we are both certain that we are going to move forward together for years before I would commit to having children. It wouldn't be fair to bring them into a marriage that has the slightest cloud over it now, and it wasn't fair then."

"Um" was all I could say. I didn't like it, but at least it wasn't PR speak.

She looked at me, and sat up to say something new "Well I've tried to answer your question. Now answer mine. Explain to me why you are so convinced that we have no future, that it doesn't matter what I say or do, we must get divorced?"

I felt the same annoyance at being questioned on the obvious as I had felt when Rose had raised a similar thought. But, this time, I was determined to explain myself, and to explain it in a way that Beth would truly understand. I looked at her, this love of my life, this first class graduate in English Literature who had captured my heart all those years ago at university. Somewhat perversely I decided to play to her strengths and my weakness. I knew that Beth liked myths and fables, allegories and analogies.

So I put my coffee down and launched myself, "Let's say we had the most beautiful plate. A glorious and unique piece of Meissen or Royal Doulton say. Made to special order, the only one in the world. We, and everyone else for that matter, could admire it, enjoy it. But we could also use it. It was perfectly fine for eating a steak off. And then, one day and for no particular reason, someone smashes it. Well, we can glue it back together again. It might look roughly the same, but you'd have to ignore the glue lines. It would still take a steak, but it isn't quite as strong as it once was." I paused and looked at her "I think I'd rather throw the pieces away, and go and buy a new plate."

She sobbed. She stood up and said "I'm sorry, Tim." And she went out into the hall.

I thought she'd gone to the toilet, to compose herself. I thought maybe I'd made some sort of contact with my plate story. But she didn't come back, and I heard her car start up.

---

On Friday morning I got a call from Mary. Could I meet her that afternoon? Well, Yes. When and where? She suggested the Carlton Hotel for tea at four o'clock. OK.

I told Stella that I was disappearing at ten to four, but I would be back at about half past five. If anyone wanted to see me urgently, they could wait until then, or keep it 'til Monday.

I found Mary sitting in the lounge at the hotel with a full English tea laid out on the low table in front of her. I leant over and kissed her on both cheeks and sat down opposite her.

She smiled in welcome "I guess things aren't working out well between you and Beth?"




TGI Chronicles Pt. 1 Ch. 09



"Did you expect them to?" I wasn't that happy that Mary seemed to want to interfere in something that had nothing whatsoever to do with her.

She sighed and looked at me. "I'm in two minds about all of this." She started to pour me a cup of tea. "If anyone else had done what Beth has done I would say 'Get rid of the slut'. But she is my daughter. I want her to be happy. But I can't and won't interfere. But I do need to understand her, so that I can support her through what is obviously a tragically unhappy period for her." She looked up at me.

"Go on." I felt a little ameliorated.

"Well, I know that Beth came to see you last night. She spent all day cooking to make sure she could take the perfect meal. She made three bannoffee pies before she got one that she was happy with. If you'd like another one...?" She smiled.

I just sat there, sipping my tea and waiting.

"Well" she went on "We heard her car come back. George and myself were on tenterhooks, waiting to find out what sort of mood she would be in. But she didn't come in. We didn't hear her at the front door even. Eventually, we went out to find her. She was sitting in her car crumpled over the steering wheel and in floods of tears. All she could say was 'I've lost him, Mummy' and a lot of incomprehensible sobs."

She looked at me, I don't know what she saw, but I wanted her to continue. "George sort of manhandled her out of the car, and got her into the sitting room and gave her a brandy. She still wasn't talking, or not in a way we could understand. It was mainly 'I've lost him forever' and something to do with a Meissen plate which we didn't understand at all. After half an hour of it, she calmed down a bit and I suggested that she should go to bed, that there was plenty of time to talk later. Well, we heard her still sobbing as we went to bed. And this morning she didn't come down at all. I knocked at her door, and she just told me to go away. That's when I phoned you. Then just before lunch she came down, looking dreadfully pale, and said she was going to work and she went off. George and myself are worried sick. I don't know what happened last night, but, please Tim, help me to help her." 

She stopped and looked at me. I ate a smoked salmon finger sandwich. What was I to do. What happened between myself and Beth was nothing to do with Mary and George. I was rather glad that I'd obviously got through to Beth that we were at the end. At least she will really have to think about what she did, maybe she'll learn something. But I was faced with a mother, worried sick over her child. "I can only tell you what we did last night. I don't know what Beth thinks anymore, maybe I never did."

"Please, Tim...."

I told her the events of the previous evening, including my analogy of the Meissen plate, as well as I could remember it. Mary listened quietly and intently, a half eaten piece of Dundee cake in her hand. When I finished, she finished her cake and sat looking at me, then she smiled.

"What?" I asked.

"You've just explained something." 

"I meant to. You asked me to." I was mystified.

"Oh. No. Not about Beth's mood. About your marriage." she looked at me. "You see, Tim. Us parents watch our children grow up. We know them, we understand them. But they then bring this stranger along and declare they want to spend the rest of their lives with this person. Now, I don't know about other parents, but I wanted to understand where the common ground was between you. What makes this relationship work. And you were a mystery to me, you always have been."

"Gee. Thanks." I said sarcastically

"No. Don't get offended. But Beth is a romantic. She's always loved poetry, myths, and fairy stories. She went to university to do English Literature. What was she doing with this man who was a mathematician? You are analytical, logical, you use rules. Even emotions you put in a pigeon hole marked Unpredictable. You accept them, live with them, but they don't follow the rules, do they?"

"So?"

"Well, then I realised that Beth uses rules as well. The rules of the English language. She understands and uses them well. So I could see how she gets to talk and be with you, but I never saw any understanding, any part of her world in you. You've just revealed that. No wonder you got through to Beth." she sat back, taking another piece of cake with a little smile and "I shouldn't really."

"I'm pleased to help." I smiled. I'm not sure her theory was true, but I guess from inside a relationship you see it differently.

"But you're wrong with your analogy, you know.." she observed.

"Tell me." I was interested.

"Well I think a marriage is two people, with a lot of sweat and hard work, building a house out of bricks and mud and straw. You work hard, and you build something, that if your lucky, is strong and you both think is far more beautiful than any Meissen plate could ever be. And you go on building it all your lives. George and myself are still building ours. And we think it's beautiful, it's got some odd features that even we can't remember why we built them like that, and we don't go into all of the rooms quite so often these days, if you know what I mean. But it still fit for purpose as they say, and we like it." she paused.

"Go on" I prompted.

"Well, in the house you and Beth built, Beth suddenly took a sledge hammer and knocked it all down one Friday morning. None of us knows why she did it, I'm not sure even she really knows. But you and Beth stand in the ruins. It's a pile of rubble. I suspect that some of the walls are still in one piece, but they've fallen over. Now she wants you to build it up again."

"You're wrong about the sledgehammer bit. She didn't knock it down in one mad morning's destruction. She spent three months going down to the cellar and scraping away at the mortar between the foundation stones. And then the lady next door came along on the Friday morning and blew it down with one puff of breath." I sat back, pleased with myself.

She considered what I had to say, "Would you like another cup of tea?"

"Yes, please" I said.

As she poured it she continued, "Anyway, your correction is accurate. But the real question is: Will you build it again? Or will you go off in the hope of finding another plot of land, and another builder's mate?"

"Taking your analogy, Beth and myself had a very beautiful house. I loved living in it. And she destroyed it, without a word to me, and she won't even tell me why. And I want it back, and I can't build it up again, or not with her."

"Oh, come on Tim, your brighter than that. You've got to accept that that house has gone. Yes it was wrong that Beth destroyed it. And Yes, she should explain herself. But it's gone. Whatever you build with her or someone else will be different. What is it they say these days, wake up and smell the coffee?" 

"Yes, I know that Mary. I hate it, but I know it. But there is no point in building anything with Beth. Some of the bricks have been destroyed forever by her. They've crumbled away to dust. And even if we do build a new house, how am I going to know that she won't be down in the cellar again, scraping away?"

I drank my tea. Mary sat quietly, thinking.

"You don't Tim. There are no guarantees in life. For all I know, George might have had several scraping interludes in our cellar over the years. I don't know, but we go on building and I think we're both happy doing so. And can you guarantee that your new builder's mate, if you find her, will not do the same?"

"No, but she won't have a track record of doing it."

"No, but she won't have seen the pain and hurt that doing it causes either. She won't have had the experience of having stood in the rubble of her own making."

"I'm sorry Mary. We're not going to agree on this one. Let's leave it for this afternoon."

We finished our tea, and went our separate ways. I'm not sure what I felt as I walked back to the office. I think I was slightly miffed at having Mary question my analysis. 

As I got to the office I met a bunch of the department heading out, including Dave. I looked at my watch. It was ten to six. Was I going over the road? Just for a quick one I said, I've got lots of packing to do. I went up to my office, there were a couple of non-urgent messages, nothing that couldn't wait. So I went to the pub.

My department were in a group and already had their drinks by the time I got there. As far as I could see, the only others from the company in there were Don McIntyre holding court to his own marketing team, standing round in a separate group. Well we can't have marketing talking to the lowly guys who give them something to sell, after all. I went and got myself a drink.

As I turned from the bar, pint in hand, Dave came over "What happened to you, then? You disappeared."

"I had afternoon tea with my mother at the Carlton Hotel, if you want to know."

Dave looked aghast. "Well, I'm glad to hear that the standards of civilised behaviour are being maintained, whilst the bullets fly over head!"

"Well it was bit like that, if you must know. She's a wily old bird, is Mary. She can really, but oh so gently, campaign for her errant daughter. She gave me food for thought, but I have to laugh at the way she did it. I can see where Beth gets her PR talent from." Talking to Dave was beginning to crystallize my thoughts. I took a long draught of my beer.

I looked at Dave "What do you know about flowers?"

"What flowers that grow in the spring tra la? That sort of flowers?"

"Yes."

"Well I know that roses rate higher than carnations in the saying sorry stakes. You can get away with blue murder if they're red roses. Why?"

"Not like that. I want to take some of the patio pots of flowers to my new place. But Beth accused me of not knowing which ones to choose. So I've got to sort of get it right. It's a matter of pride."

At that point there was a general waving of hands and shouts of farewell as the marketing team left. All except Alice, that is. She headed towards myself and Dave.

"Where's that lot going? We don't often see the sales team leave the pub this early on a Friday." asked Dave, when she approached.

"Oh, there off to play a game of baseball against a team from C&J Bank. It sounded like an excuse for the boys to tell silly stories and get very drunk. Not my scene."

"Well, they could have invited me." Dave sounded peeved.

"Why do you play baseball?" asked Alice, looking surprised.

"No, but I'm very good at getting drunk and telling silly stories." We both looked at him with mock disgust.

I turned to Alice "Alice, you're a lady who knows what's what. How are you on patio flowers?"

"Very good. Dad used to own a garden centre. Why?"

"Nothing. I just wondered what you were doing on Sunday?" I replied smiling.

---

Saturday was a busy day of packing. I went down to Blindside once, to look around on my own, and to come back with a couple of fresh ideas of things to take. I'd given up worrying about upsetting Beth with what I was going to take. If there was anything she wanted back, well it was only five miles down the road.

Sunday, Dave and Alice turned up in one car. And we started. We made a trip with a full van, and then we tried my new local, the Black Swan. It turned out to very good, which was a surprise. I remember trying it once, when Beth and myself first moved here, and it was awful. But a new landlord and ...

Alice had given her advice on the pots, and with the rest of the stuff, the roof terrace was looking good. Alice wanted to put some pots at the foot of the outside staircase, but I refused. It didn't seem such a good idea to have pots where builders were working. She also quietly arranged things in the new flat, so that everything looked good, suggesting I take things that would harmonise colours and make the best of things that didn't quite match. She also spotted that the cushions from the guest room would look great on the new sofa!

Both Alice and Dave were wonderful, cheerful and helpful, but I was also aware that they realised that this whole day was devoted to breaking up what had been a very happy home. 

By five o'clock I was fully installed, and we were sitting in the living room, exhausted but satisfied, drinking a cup of tea. 

Dave looked across at me "How much you paying for this place? Its rather good, definitely better than mine."

I told him, without telling him it was half rent. "Bloody hell, Tim. That's a lot less than I pay. You jammy bugger!"

I eased his pain by admitting to the half rent. He looked mollified, but he did say it was still a good deal, which pleased me. He took some more tea, and looked at me again "So how did you know I'd split with Maddy?"

"Ah! You don't know how close you came to either making or breaking your career, and I'm not sure which." And I told him the story. That led to Alice asking about Dave's current status, and it then struck me as odd that they hadn't ever got together. He chased every available woman, and there was Alice working in the same company, and to the best of my knowledge they'd never got together. So I asked.

Dave sort of went quiet, and ate a biscuit. So I looked at Alice, there was obviously a story here somewhere, perhaps it had to wait until I got one of them on my own. But Alice answered "Well, Dave did try, within my first month at TGI, in fact I think it was the first time I actually went to the pub on a Friday night. But his reputation had got to me before that. In fairness, it was more to do with the fact that I'd just come out of a bad bad phase of my life, the last thing I needed was a date, even with a nice guy like Dave."

"Oh, I'm a nice guy now am I?" said Dave, smiling. "At the time, I didn't stand a chance, even if I was the last man on earth, if I remember right, Alice?"

"Did I say that. Oh God. I'm sorry. That's an awful thing to say. But I was pretty low and very off men at that time. I've got a better, more balanced view these days, and I keep to a set of good rules."

"What rules like I'd get spanked if I broke them?" I asked jokingly, trying to break into a conversation that was becoming exclusive.

"No, rules like only date guys where something might be meaningful. No desperate one night stands. In fact, no stand at all until the third date at the earliest."

"Does carrying pots around at your behest count as a date" asked Dave, now well into flirting mode.

"Maybe, maybe not." came from Alice, with a look that joined him in the flirting stakes.

Dave glanced at me, and decided that now was not the time or place. "So, Tim, are you getting a new car to go with your new found position?"

"Yup."

"What are you going to get. And don't make it too good, I'm already jealous of this flat."

"Well, I sneaked a BMW Z4 out of Charlie. I think I caught him with a weak chink in his armour."

"Nice. Suits your new image. That and this flat, you should be giving me some real competition." He smiled at me.

Alice looked at me. "No, Tim's the nice guy sort. You're the challenge, Dave."

We chatted on, I decided that the bottle of champagne that I'd brought, That Bottle, needed opening. And we made short work of drinking it, with toasts to my new life, my new flat, my new car, my new office, my new secretary (whoever she might be), and even to the pots on the roof terrace.

Then someone said, what about some food. I said I hadn't got much in. So they started to discuss where to eat out. Chinese? Italian? Indian? English pub? In the end, the chilli at Not Steinbeck's was chosen by both of them, I was told I couldn't vote because I'd never been there. 

I didn't fancy that. I had had a good day; I was in my new flat, I didn't need the thoughts that Not Steinbeck's might encourage. And anyway I quite fancied being in the flat all by myself. So I let them go off, and leave me in peace.

As the sun was setting, I was standing on my terrace, watching the river and thinking philosophical thoughts about how I'd ended up here, on how my life was moving on, on how I could imagine leaving Beth behind and all she meant to me, when my phone rang. It was Phil.

"Yes, Phil."

"What happened to you and Beth on Thursday?"

"Not a lot. Why?"

"Well, she's terribly upset. For the first time she really seems to believe that you're going to divorce. Mary says she's a lot better now than when she came home on Thursday evening. But, God, she's a mess."

I gave him a quick summary of Thursday evening, and of my meeting with Mary on Friday. 

Phil interrupted me, "I don't know what this is about, but maybe it goes back to that meeting you had with Mary. She asked me to ask you 'Where are you going to start building?' It didn't make sense to me."

"Don't worry, Phil, it wouldn't. I'll explain it all to you when I see you. But, in the meantime, if you see Mary, tell her I'm not building, I'm at Blindside Trafalgar House, and it's kitted out for one, and doesn't need building. But I'm happy to talk to anyone who has a building project in mind. And over the coming months I expect I'll start spotting some possible applicants. So if she knows of anyone who might like to apply, they should get in quick before it's too late."



TGI Chronicles Pt. 1 Ch. 10



The next week at work was just simple hard work. I was beginning to realise that I was still trying to do my old job, plus project managing the ITP project, and that was hard work. The ITP team had been demoralised, they needed time and loving care. But loving care cost time, and time was something that neither the project nor I had. On top of that, I had to build a new relationship with Neil as my new line manager, and play my role as a senior member of the company management team. My hours began to stretch.

In some ways I didn't mind that. Less time to pick at my emotional wounds, and maybe, as my Mother would say 'it'll only get better if you don't pick it' But work was hard work, and totally exhausting, and I still missed Beth to go home to with her understanding, help and support on tough days.

One bit of good news was that ITP had decided to pay half their instalment payment as a matter of good will. That cheered Neil up, and it helps to have a happy boss.

On Thursday I spent half the day interviewing new secretaries. This was new to me, interviewing programmers and other technical staff I could manage, I'd been interviewing them for years. But not secretaries. Luckily, Personnel were there to support. We did all the interviewing in their offices, and they did everything but the personal bit. I told them about the department and a little about me. We interviewed five, and by number four I was getting the hang of it. Unfortunately, it was number three who seemed the best, and she hadn't seen me at my best.

Anyway, myself and Personnel agreed, number three it would be, assuming she accepted. She was an attractive woman of twenty-four, called Davinia. And she liked amateur dramatics and crosswords, so she would fit in all right.

After work I went over to the pub with Dave. 

"I saw you had a pleasant afternoon." was his opening gambit.

"What, interviewing secretaries? And how did you know?"

"Ah! Well....you see, I quite fancy Deana Treifuss in Accounts. And what floor is Accounts on?"

"The same one as Personnel. OK." I realised.

"Well choosing a secretary is easy. Big boobs and says yes to whatever is asked." he said with a leer.

"Do you really believe that?" I thought that he was being a bit too sexist, even for the pub and between mates, well before the third pint anyway, and even then only in the presence of some girls who you really want to annoy.

"No. You know I don't. But I've got an image to keep up. Did you find one?"

"Yes. I nice girl called Davinia. And keep your grubby little hands off. I could do without lover's tiffs in the office, especially if they involve my secretary."

"So you fancy her then." Was his only comment. And the trouble was, he could be right.

On Friday, Phil and Denny came round to Blindside for supper. Phil had made no secret of it when he had phoned me on Wednesday, Denny needed to look round. What I didn't know was that Denny had seen Beth on Tuesday. Obviously their Tuesday nights at Not Steinbeck's were becoming routine. 

I asked how Beth had been. Denny looked nervously at Phil before she answered, "She told me about your Meissen plate story. I think, somehow it's changed her. She now really understands that you've gone and probably for good. It's taken this long for that to get through to her. I don't think she's got that much further in her thinking though. I asked her why she did it, and she couldn't answer. I asked: was Ken really attractive to her, there must have been something there between them. But she said he had a sort of mature glamour, that was her phrase, but not much else. I tried asking her: hadn't she realised that she was risking losing her whole marriage, didn't she realise why the wedding service had made her promise to be faithful, the forsaking all others bit? But she would only say that was a matter for the theologians, and they hadn't faced a randy Ken in full seduction mode on a boring afternoon? I think she was just trying to laugh it off."

Phil obviously hadn't heard this bit, because he asked "Is she saying Ken seduced her? That all of this is down to Ken? Is that her excuse?"

Denny looked at him, before she defended her friend. "No. I do think Ken did work hard to make it happen, but she wasn't really trying to absolve herself of having given in. In fact, half her problem is that everything is totally her fault, without any excuse whatsoever. She doesn't even try to work out what made her do it. But she will. She's got to. Or she will if I have anything to do with it." she turned to look at me "That's nothing to do with you, Tim. She needs to do that for her own sake."

"Let me know when she has. I'd like to know the reason for this whole damn mess, even if it doesn't put it right." Was my only reply, and then I took a large gulp of wine. "It can't put it right." 

Two more weeks went by, mainly more hard work, long hours of travelling to keep clients happy, and some long heart to hearts with a couple of key guys on the ITP team, just to keep them on track. 

August started on the first, but then again it usually does, only this one was a Monday, and Davinia's first day. I introduced her to some of the department, and some key players in the Company, like Neil's secretary. I didn't want to feed her to too many lions on one day. She really was a nice person. Nice enough that I found an excuse to invite her to lunch on Wednesday.

"Oh, that's very nice of you Tim, but really you don't have to." I think she was genuinely surprised.

"Sorry, it's part of your duties. Helping the boss fill in some important gaps in his life."

"Such as?" she asked dubiously.

"Like accompanying me to Not Steinbeck's. Don't tell me it's one of your favourite haunts. Everyone I know is in and out of there all the time, and I've not been since they opened."

"Actually they do quite a good chilli there." she looked quite happy.

"I knew it! I bloody knew it! Now your committed, you've got to come with me."

We had quite a good lunch. She had a good sense of humour, and easy to talk to. Unfortunately, I learnt that she was two years into a pretty firm affair, with a live in boyfriend, a school teacher. OK, he was going through a bit of a funny stage, having given up teaching at the end of the last term, and seemed to be showing no signs of taking up any other career, in fact currently he was a kept man. I could always introduce her to Jean. 

We went back to the office, walking together easily, laughing and joking. We bumped into Dave as we came into Reception. I stopped for a business word with him, she went on to the department. We watched her leave. Dave told me not to bother, she had a live in boyfriend. He doesn't waste time, it was only her third day. But who was I to talk? 

The next day, Dave and Alice came round for an impromptu barbeque on my roof terrace. There is definitely something between those two, they really ought to get their act together. If they don't I can imagine myself making a play for Alice sometime in the future, when I get round to risking my first foray into that dangerous world of relationships. But not yet, I was beginning to like my single life. I was beginning to notice that I was fancying women again, and even more important, I was feeling good, I even thought that one of them might fancy me.

Then we got to my wedding anniversary on 11th August. It fell on a Thursday, and it sort of glowed as a date on my calendar at work and in my diary. 

On the Wednesday, Denny phoned me. Apparently she had seen Beth the night before, as usual. And Beth was very uptight about what to do. Should she send me a card? Should she send me a present? Should she try to meet me? So, Denny wanted to know what I was going to do. Nothing was my simple answer. I was going to work hard and late and hope that it would pass without me having to think. What else could I do?

That Wednesday was a lovely warm summer's evening. I sat on my terrace and thought of Beth. I thought of our previous anniversaries. In the last couple of years we had taken to just having a special meal at home, to save money as the house demanded every penny we had. But we would dress up, eat well, dance together by candlelight and make love. We didn't need expensive restaurants, we had each other. It all made me very sad, and I cried. I had thought I was over the crying bit, but I still wanted her so much it hurt. Oh! Why had she destroyed it all?

On the Thursday I got home at about nine o'clock after another late night at my desk. There, on the iron staircase to my front door sat Beth. She stood as I approached. "Hello. You promised me that you would show me round. I thought tonight might be a good time."

I didn't answer. I didn't know what to say. I led the way up the stairs and opened the front door. She went in. I showed her around, it didn't take long, with a formal commentary from me. Eventually we were back in the living room, facing each other. She looked good, so very good.

"It's lovely Tim. I can see why you wanted it. And you've made it look good with the things you brought. Those cushions look good on that sofa."

"Would you like a drink? I don't keep any champagne anymore, there's not a lot to celebrate these days." The hurt was bubbling up again.

She ignored my barb. "Some white wine, if you have it. Please."

I opened a bottle from the fridge and poured two glasses. I passed her a glass "You're looking good Beth. I could almost fancy you." I tried joking, but it didn't work. Dammit! I did fancy her.

"Thank you." she looked at me, but I don't know what she read in my eyes. "How are you, Tim? Are you happy?"

"No, of course I'm not happy. But it's getting better. This place helps, and I'm working hard, doing long hours. Did you wait for me for a long time?"

"It didn't matter. I am sorry Tim. I know I've hurt you a lot. I've hurt myself a lot as well. I was a fool."

"Don't let's go over it again. There's no point, Beth. You broke the rules and this is the result. I wish it wasn't, but you never gave me reason to think anything different."

"And now?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" I answered her question with a question.

"Would you let me talk to you now? Now that we've both tasted the future, would you talk to me now?"

"No. Not about what maybe. There is no maybe for us until we talk about the whats and whys of the past. You know that Beth. And even then..."

"I know, no promises. What do you want me to say Tim? What can I say to put it right?"

"Nothing but the truth." I paused and looked at her. "Oh Beth, I wish you hadn't come here tonight. You're only hurting both of us. I had created the vague possibility of being able to build a new life, hard work - a new home - a bachelor's life...."

"Like Dave's you mean? An endless circle of one night stands, the occasional affair that lasts a month or two. God, Tim. I know you, you don't want that. Is that how you see this flat? As a bachelor's lair for seducing silly young girl's you can pick up in some seedy nightclub? Good God, Tim, you'll be getting a sports car next and trying to impress them with old wines and Barry White on the hi-fi."

I laughed to myself. Now didn't seem the moment to tell her that my new car was being delivered tomorrow. I turned to her, "Dave's life isn't that shallow. And anyway, I've tried faithfulness and domesticity - it doesn't work, or not for me anyway." There I go again, still trying to hurt. 

I looked at her "I'm sorry, Beth. I shouldn't have said that. Maybe you should go."

She burst into tears with a loud sob. "Don't send me away again. You did that once before. Not tonight, please." 

I sat down and drained my wine glass, and then poured myself another glassful. I looked at her, she sat crumpled on the sofa, wiping her eyes with a pretty lace handkerchief. She looked so vulnerable, I wanted to hold her, comfort her, but I didn't trust myself. 

"Look, Beth. Why don't you talk to Rose Bullard. You need to understand everything that's happened, to understand yourself and to understand me." I got my wallet out of my jacket pocket and found Rose's card, the one Charlie had given to me all those weeks ago on Fateful Friday. I gave it to her, she held it in her hand and looked at it suspiciously. "She's a nice lady, you'll like her. I'll phone her in the morning and tell her you'll be calling her. And anyway, if you like her, then she can sell the house for us."

That produced another round of tears. I went and sat next to her and patted her back. She tried to cuddle in, but I moved away. That produced more tears. Eventually she was composed, and I made a mug of coffee, but we didn't talk much. We just sat in silence until she had drunk her coffee, when she left. She kissed me on the cheek as she went out of the front door "Happy Anniversary. My darling Tim." Some Anniversary!

I phoned Rose in the morning and told her that she may get a call from Beth. On the other hand, maybe she wouldn't.

It was the 11th September that I found out whether she ever went to see Rose. I'd asked Denny, but she didn't know or wasn't telling me. Anyway, I had an invite for Sunday lunch at the Bullard's. Charlie and Rose were there, but there was no sign of Simon and Maddy. Their daughter Camilla was there, back from doing a year's aid work in Africa, and with plenty of good stories to keep the conversation flowing. 

After lunch, Rose asked me if I'd like to see their plum tree in the garden, of which she was particularly proud. I wondered why I would want to, but became more interested when Camilla threatened to join us with "I haven't really looked around the garden since I got back." but her father put his hand on her shoulder and held her back. Then I knew Rose really wanted to talk to me.

"I've been seeing Beth for about three weeks now. She is a lovely girl, I can see why you fell in love with her, Tim." was her opener.

"How is she?"

"Oh. She's well. I think she's ready to talk now. It's taken her a long time, she's so riddled with guilt; it took a lot of time to get through her layers of guilt and self loathing. But she's better now. I think she has an honest understanding of what happened."

I stopped and looked at Rose. "Well?"

"Oh, I'm not going to tell you. That's up to you and her. But, I think you have to make up your mind as to what you really want, Tim."

"I'd like to hear what she has to say. It won't make any difference, but it may lay some ghosts to rest. I might find closure. Isn't that what you people say?"

"Yes. But that's unfair on her. It's a horrid thing for her to have to do. To come here and relive it all just for some commission of enquiry for your better understanding. Do you really think that whatever she said, nothing could let you forgive her and try again?"

"I don't know Rose. One half of me desperately wants to believe that. That there is a way back. But, I'm sorry. I don't think I'll change my mind."

"Why not? Because you're scared? Scared to go back and get hurt again? I don't blame you. I'd be scared if I were you. I saw that look in Charlie's eyes over thirty years ago. Scared to love again, it only leads to hurt. Well you're not Charlie, and Beth isn't like Charlie's first wife. Your individuals, and life is what you make it, but it's never without risks."

I walked on, to the end of their manicured lawn. "Who does the gardening here, Rose? You or Charlie? It's always so damned immaculate."

"Neither of us. One of the advantages of success is that we can afford a gardener. And I hear that, because of you, we can go on affording him. I guess I owe you thanks for that. Let me repay you, let me help you hear what Beth has got to say with an open mind, Tim. You owe it to yourself. It may be that it's not enough for you. But please don't make up your mind until you've heard her. Give the poor girl a fair trial, Tim."

"How long have I got?"

"To decide whether to see her or not? As long as you want. And I promise you Tim, I'll hold your hand the whole time. It might hurt. It might not be good enough. But you've got to do it."

"I'll think about it. Say goodbye to Charlie for me. I'll walk round the house and just go home. I think I need to sit and think."

I phoned Phil as I sat in my car outside Trafalgar House on my return. We met at the King's Head on the Monday evening.

As soon as we had our drinks in our hands I opened, "Did you know that Beth was seeing Rose Bullard?"

"Yes, but I was sworn to secrecy. She told Denny. But I don't think even Denny knows how it's going. How did you find out?"

"Rose told me. Apparently she's ready to talk. But I have to be prepared to take her back if she has an adequate excuse. How can she have? How can I make open promises? But I would like to know what really happened. It's my life too that she played with." 

Phil too a long draught. Then carefully put his beer down on the table in front of him. Holding it with two hands, staring at it. "So, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know. That's why we're having this drink. Tell me Phil, what would you do?"

"That's unfair and it has nothing to do with it. It's about what you want to do, Tim. Not me."

"Oh I know that. But if you won't tell me, then you might as well sit there while I bore you to tears whilst trying to make up my own mind." I smiled at him.

He winced, and we both drank our beers. Eventually, Phil broke into my thoughts with a question, "Do you still love Beth?"

I looked up at him. That was a question that I wish he hadn't asked. "Yes. I still miss her like hell. But I'm just beginning to get used to living without her, and I know I will eventually get over her. But I know I wouldn't be able to go and hear her out without fervently praying that she could talk me round. But I don't believe she can. I don't believe she should. So, I'll just be going along just to get hurt some more. I'm scared Phil. Rose spotted that."

"Shrewd woman, that Rose. She's got Beth to talk, which is more than the combined forces of Denny and Mary ever managed, and they're quite formidable when working as a team. And she has some idea of the petard that you've hoisted yourself on." He smiled. "I'd trust her, I think."

We both drank our beer and sat in silence. We finished our beers. I went and got two more. When I got back, Phil had another question, "Tell me. Are you sure you're not enjoying this a little bit. You sit there in judgement. You'll decide whether you'll give Beth a hearing. You'll decide whether she has made an adequate excuse. You'll decide whether you'll divorce her. I thought a marriage was a sharing of two people, with compromises and give and take. If you really approach it like this, I wouldn't blame Beth if she didn't want to take you back. Think about it."

"But she is the one that broke the marriage. I'm entitled to make my decisions about my life." I said, and even I knew I sounded pompous.

"Yes and no. Yes she broke the marriage. But No, this isn't about the old marriage. This is about the future marriage. When you've heard her, if you hear her, then both of you, not just you, have to decide whether you want to go forward. You're entitled to your say Tim, but it takes two."

I sat in silence. I didn't like being browbeaten by my best friend. But if he couldn't do it, then who could? 

I looked up at him, "I guess I'm going to a marriage counsellor."

"Good. Can I go home now?"

"When you've finished your beer, yes. Oh.... and thank you."

"What for?"

"For listening. For arguing. I need you to argue back, even if you make lousy points. And for being here."

"All part of the service." he smiled

---

We met at Charlie and Rose's house in the evening of the Wednesday in the next week. Beth was already there when I arrived, sitting in a chair in the sitting room, looking nervous and pale. There was a bottle of mineral water and glasses laid out on the coffee table in the centre of the room. I sat in another armchair. Rose sat on the sofa, with a file of papers on the seat next to her. She kept notes, my marriage was a set of notes in some filing cabinet.




TGI Chronicles Pt. 1 Ch. 10



Rose looked at us both. "There are some things I should say before we start. First, this meeting and any others we have are totally confidential. If you're worried about Charlie and work, Tim, don't. Charlie knows this is nothing to do with him. As a counsellor I will tell you that it's best if there are no secrets in a marriage, but there are between Charlie and myself, the things that go on when I'm counselling. Second, and this is really aimed at you Tim for this evening, but applies to you both really, there will be no interruptions when Beth is telling her story. If you've got things to say then keep them to the end." Rose looked at me and then Beth to make sure we had taken her warnings on board. 

Then she turned to Beth "Well I think the starting point has to be if Beth can tell us about her life and what happened that led up to her affair with Ken."

Beth looked up at Rose, then at me, "Rose says I don't have to say this, Tim, but I want to. I'll tell you what happened between myself and Ken, but I want you to know that these aren't excuses. There is no excuse for what I did, but maybe they do explain something of why I made such a dreadful mistake."

I didn't answer. So she continued "I think early this year I was tired. Not needing more sleep tired, I was tired of the draining effect that doing the house had cost us. I was fed up that we never had any money or time. I was probably the one that wanted it that way, but I was tired that we had so often had to choose between a good holiday or dining room carpet, a night out at a nice restaurant or new bedroom curtains. Everything we did, every penny we spent was about the house. Now I was the one that wanted us to have a nice home, it was always my idea that we go camping in Scotland rather than flying to the sun, it's not your fault, Tim, and I'm not complaining, but I think it took its toll on me."

Beth stopped and looked at me. Rose seemed to make a short note on her pad. I sat in silence. Beth then went on "There were days when I didn't speak to anyone all day except you Tim. Some days my work might only consist of reading notes and papers, watching some marketing video's and reading and writing some emails. I was grateful if Ken suggested a pub lunch. I never hid that from you Tim. I think I always told you if I had a break with Ken in the pub or a cup of tea at ours or their house in the afternoon, and there was nothing in those early lunches, I promise you."

Again, Rose seemed to make a note. I opened my mouth to say something about how I was pleased if she had gone to lunch with Ken, but Rose held up her hand at me and gave me a look that silenced me. Beth resumed her tale, "I think one of the things that influenced me was whenever I talked to Frances or Bev. They seemed to have such exciting lives. I know they weren't really worthwhile role models, but they did do more than I did. Their lives were pure drama."

At that I did explode. "They're not to be admired. Their lives are a mess." I turned to Rose "Do you know about those two, has she told you? They were Beth's friends at school. Bev is an unmarried mother of two from two different fathers, and she has no man in her life. Frances has ploughed through men and affairs, married men seem to be her speciality, and she's never found true love." 

Rose turned to me "Of course I know who they are. But, for all that is wrong with their lives, they had something that Beth didn't, and some influence on Beth's thinking. Now, be quiet and listen. Go on Beth."

Beth looked at me "You're right, Tim. But Frances would be off on some new affair for a weekend in Paris, or Bev was juggling paternal visiting so that the two father's don't meet. And what was my planned weekend - to grout the tiles in the bathroom. Their lives may not be better than mine, but they were a hell of a lot more exciting. And there was another thing. They were always so jealous of me. 'It's alright for you, Beth, you've got Tim' or 'I wish I had a perfect life like you Beth' and my life wasn't perfect because nothing ever happened except choosing new curtaining or flushing out the drains. Do you know I remember some of the girls at work planning a Saturday of clothes shopping. One of them asked me if I'd like to go along, but another replied that I wouldn't be interested unless it was shopping for wallpaper. I made light of it and laughed, but it was true, and it hurt."

She stopped and poured herself a glass of water. "And then there was Ken. He had money, he was successful and assured. He could take me out to lunch and pay more for a single lunch than we would spend on curtains for our bedroom. I knew that what we were doing was for our own future, we were a young couple fighting our way up in life, but it was still lovely to have this man spend all that money on me. And he knew it was a weakness, and he used it." 

She took a sip of water before she continued "Ken always flirted, he'd do it right in front of you Tim. It didn't matter, girls get used to dealing with men like Ken, but he could do it with intent. There is a difference between flirting which is just a clever word play game between friends, both of you knowing that it's totally meaningless. But with Ken it was flirting with intent. You knew that he was throwing down a challenge, putting a stake in the ground to show he was interested. It didn't matter, but again it was flattering."

I poured myself a glass of water. Rose made some notes. I looked at Rose to see if she would give me some indication that I could say something, but she just said, "You're doing well, Beth. Keep going."

So Beth took a sip of water and kept going, "Well, on top of the flirting, Ken would often just drop a little hint that adultery was OK. That a little affair could be fun, no one need find out, no one would get hurt. All the usual bullshit. He even went as far as saying it could strengthen a marriage, because you come to realise how important your partner was to you. And this had gone on slowly and carefully over two to three years, him carefully dropping the seeds of an idea. I could happily ignore it, or so I thought. And then, one Friday in early April Ken invited me to lunch, there was nothing special about it. But he made his intentions very obvious. It really worried me, partly because we might have an awkward problem with a neighbour, but also I have to admit I was tempted. I had to talk to you about it, because that's what we always did, we talked about these sort of things, a problem shared and all that. But you came in late that Friday, Perry had been on your back about something, and you were trying to clear your desk to go away on a course for the next week. You came in tired, and upset, and with a DVD of a film you wanted to watch. So we had something to eat and watched the film, then you went to bed, and we didn't talk. Then over the weekend you were a bit depressed because it should have been Paul's birthday weekend, and anyway we were working hard in the garden for most of it. And on Sunday night you left to go to your course, and we never talked. It wasn't your fault, Tim, I'm not blaming you, you'd done nothing wrong. It just happened that way." 

She looked at me. I guess I looked rather pale and withdrawn. I remember that weekend. Her description was fairly accurate. 

Beth took a deep breath. Rose said "In your own time Beth. Your doing fine."

"Well, on the Monday, Ken called me and asked me to lunch again. I didn't want to go, but he said he knew of a wood near a wonderful restaurant, and the wild daffodils would be out. I knew I had to face him sometime, and seeing wild daffodils did sound lovely, so I went. He gave me a wonderful lunch, he was debonair and attentive and quite witty in his way. And he gave me too much wine to drink, and it was good wine and slipped down easily. He was driving, so it was down to me not to waste it. Well, to cut a long story short, when we got home he came on heavy again, and I gave him a blow job. I'm sorry Tim, but that's what happened. Later on I learnt that a blow job was the height of sexual ecstasy as far as Ken was concerned, and he didn't want a particularly good one at that. He was always easily bought off with a simple blow job." 

She wasn't looking at me now, I guess she was scared to. Rose made notes, and poured herself a glass of water. I sat quiet. I don't think it was as bad as I expected, maybe because I knew that this was what I was here to hear.

"I felt dirty after that. I came home and had a bath, but it didn't help much. I cried myself to sleep that night. I swore to myself, never again. The next morning, before I could do anything, a package came through the door. It was from Ken, and was the most beautiful set of lingerie. Bra, panties and garter belt, all in wonderful deep maroon silk with black lace. You didn't have to look at the label to know that this had cost a fortune. I took it and went round there. I told him to take it back, that yesterday was all a mistake, that I loved you. All the things you would expect me to say. He was a perfect gentleman. He accepted all I had to say, he understood. And then he gave me the undies back, I might as well have them anyway. I got home and found them in my hand. I should have thrown them away, but they were so beautiful, so expensive, by far the most expensive clothes I had. So I didn't throw them away, I hid them." 

She took another sip of water. He eyes were filling with tears. She took a handkerchief to dab her eyes, and then sat twisting it between her fingers. "Well, on the Thursday he invited me to lunch again. Just as friends you understand, to show there's no hard feeling. And, for some silly romantic notion, I wore the lingerie. Not for him as such, but it just seemed the right thing to do, it had a completeness about it. But he guessed, and he asked and I told him. So, when we got back he demanded a fashion show. He could be demanding, and I guess I felt I owed him that. So I did it, and one thing led to another, and we had sex. Oh Tim, I'm sorry. I didn't want it to happen. I knew I loved you, I knew it was wrong. But I did it, and I have no excuse." she was in floods of tears.

Rose offered her a box of tissues. I sat silently. This is what I needed to hear, but I didn't know what I was meant to say, or what I wanted to say. I just sat there silently. I didn't cry, I didn't protest, I just sat there.

After some minutes, Beth had composed herself. "I went home and cried and cried and cried. I promised myself, never again. I decided that I wouldn't say anything. It would just be my guilty secret. Ken phoned on Friday morning. I just said 'Never again' and put the phone down on him."

She looked up at me. Without looking at Rose I said "So how did this turn into an affair?"

"Well, I was so scared that you would realise something was wrong, but you didn't. Or if you did you didn't say anything. So I thought I could put it behind me. Ken was away that week on some business. When he was back the following week he phoned me and I just put the phone down on him. That went on for some days, then he put a note through the door to say we were neighbours, we had to talk. And that made sense. So I started talking to him again, and he didn't invite me to lunch. After about three or even four weeks from that first time, I went into town one morning to pick up some bits and pieces. When I got back, Ken had his Bentley out on the drive. He asked me if I fancied a spin and maybe some lunch. I thought he meant in the Bentley, and I'd never had a ride in that, so I said yes. As it turned out, he called for me in the Mercedes, he saw my disappointment and used it as an excuse to buy the most expensive lunch ever. And I have to say it was wonderful to sit and choose gloriously expensive dishes and not have to worry about it. Then after lunch we were passing a florist and he went in and bought two dozen red roses for me. Two dozen! It was so wonderfully extravagant! He knew, I knew, that I would have to throw them away before the end of the afternoon, but that didn't stop him. And when we got home, I fell again. I think that was the time I regret most. That was the time that was the start of the slippery slope."

"You traded our marriage for two dozen red roses!" I exclaimed, bitterly. 

"No, you know better than that, Tim." interjected Rose. "Now Beth is doing wonderfully well in what is a very difficult story for her to tell. Comments like that don't help. That's why I told you, you have to be quiet. Now, we can take a break if you want, even come back on another day if this is too much. But you cannot interrupt like that." Rose sat back and looked at us both, when neither of us said anything, she looked at Beth "Go on, you're doing fine."

"Well from there it was a quick and easy slide into an affair. At first it was exciting, sex with someone different after nine years of just you Tim. I'm sorry, but it was, not better or worse, just different. And that made it exciting. But very quickly I began to realise that Ken was actually a very selfish man and a lousy lover. He didn't care about me. Sex was missionary position, pump up and down until he was satisfied, then roll off for a drink or a cup of tea. All he cared about was himself. No foreplay or slow games. He just liked taking what he wanted. He did like giving orders, that was as near as we came to anything other than the act itself, 'Undress'. 'Open your legs'. That was the height of a sexy session for him. And he'd swap everything for a blow job. I found I was doing that more and more, because it saved me actually doing anything else. And Ken was selfish and arrogant in other things. He would only talk about things that interested him, usually his keys to success in business or his bloody Bentley. And he would just give orders 'Make me a cup of tea' or 'Pour me a whisky" never please or thank you, never 'would you like one'. I quickly knew I had to bring this to an end."

"And how about me in all that time?" I looked at Rose, but she allowed the question.

"I never lied to you. Frequently I would tell you if I'd been out with Ken. You trusted me, and you never asked questions, except to ask if I had a nice lunch. And I began to understand just the difference between making love to you, the man I loved, and having sex with Ken. There was no comparison. I promise you that Tim. I have learnt just how important and wonderful the sex between lovers is. I'm sorry I learnt it this way."

"Well, Beth, why don't you tell Tim what happened on that Thursday when he came home early." Rose suggested before I could respond to Beth's thoughts on our sex life.

"Well it was probably much as you thought it was. I went round there for lunch. Ken's no cook but he can assemble a wonderful salad lunch and choose the right wine. Then we had sex. It wasn't good for me, and I thought 'I think that's your last time, buddy', but I admit I didn't say anything. Then we went out to the pool, which is where you saw us. And, yes, he did send me for a drink for him, just after he'd told me to take my top off. He really did like to order me around. And, yes, I did strip off in front of him, it was another one of his barked orders, and I complied. I'm sorry. I very nearly told him what he could do with his selfish orders, but I wanted to choose my moment when I wasn't so angry, so I just did as he told me, and then went for a swim. That did make me very cold, and I did want to warm up, just like I told you, Tim. But when we went in, he wanted me again, but I refused and bought him off with another blow job. And then we did have that cup of tea, and yes, he did bore me with his Bentley photographs."

"So the g-string story was a lie?" I asked.

"Yes. Actually I didn't lie. But I did raise the idea and lead you to believe a lie. I'm sorry. But let me get to that bit. I came home to find an angry, slightly drunk husband all over the place with his emotions. I panicked and just wanted to get away whilst I thought out what to do, so I went upstairs for that shower. I already knew that my affair with Ken should be over, and here I was caught on what was probably the very last day of it. I really thought that was bad luck. Why me? Why caught now?"

She looked up at me, but I didn't react. 

"I was scared to admit everything, I knew it would devastate you, I knew what we risked, what I had risked. And you weren't in a state to talk sensibly. I decided I had to get over this for the moment, maybe later we would be able to talk, but not then. So, for the first and only time in this whole affair, I prepared to lie to you, I took my g-string and washed it out and hung it up to dry. Then I came downstairs to worm my way out of your accusations. And I think I did OK. I'm sure you weren't totally satisfied, but I thought I might be able to get away with it. But then I asked what would have happened if I had admitted an affair and you said it would be instant divorce. That frightened me."

She paused for another sip of water. "After you'd gone to bed I sat downstairs and thought things through. I knew my affair with Ken was absolutely over, I would finish it with him totally and as soon as possible, that was the easy decision. Then I wanted to confess all, to talk to my friend, my husband, the one I would turn to when I was in trouble. And I couldn't. And I knew you still had some suspicions, or my guilty conscience told me that you should have, and that you would be hurting. I knew that. So, I decided that it would be selfish of me to confess everything just for my piece of mind. Better that I contain it all, and put your mind at rest. So, when I came to bed I guessed you were still lying there awake, and you certainly would have been with the noise I was making. I remember thinking that it was terribly significant that you pretended to be asleep, you weren't prepared to even talk to me. So I kissed you and told you that I would never ever be unfaithful to you. I know that was a promise about the future. I know I worded it that way, but I hoped it would bring you some comfort, and it was the only thing I could say. I didn't want to lie to you, and I did want you to know just how much I loved you."

She was weeping, tears were pouring down her face. Rose offered her the box of tissues again. "I'm sure you will have lots of questions, Tim. And then both of you have plenty to talk about. But I think that's enough for tonight. You both need a little time to understand what you're thinking now. I suggest we get back together on Saturday afternoon, it would suit me as Charlie will be playing golf, and I'm not working. How about you two?"

"No, Rose. I want to ask one more question, now." I was determined, and it showed in my voice. Rose looked at me, but didn't stop me "Beth, but what about Friday morning?"

Beth looked up, tears still running down her face. She sobbed and wiped her nose. "That was possibly the worse bit. If you want to torture someone, then be kind to them went they don't deserve it. But I thought it was best for both of us if I didn't say anything. I really did. I just had to get over this immediate terrible time, I had to be strong and not just throw myself on your mercy. But even then I was wavering, I think I was beginning to look for some way into the right words to confess, and then Jean turned up and the cat was out of the bag." she hung her head and wept.

Beth was still weeping and blowing her nose and sobbing, when Rose stood up to show that the meeting was over. We both agreed to three o'clock on Saturday. I hovered around, not sure what was expected of me, but Rose just told me to go home. So I did.

---

Phil phoned me on the Thursday, to ask how my meeting had gone, and whether I fancied joining them for a meal on the Friday evening. For once, I declined. I know that Denny would only want to talk about the meeting with Rose and Beth, and I didn't want to talk about that. I didn't know how I felt about it, and I had to have my thinking straight by Saturday.




TGI Chronicles Pt. 1 Ch. 10



When Saturday came round, I still wasn't complete in my view of Beth's story. But at least I had some thoughts and questions, I could say something.

Again, Beth was there before me, we gathered in Rose's sitting room. It looked exactly as it had done on the Wednesday evening, accept the door was open to the garden, bathed in autumn sunlight. We sat exactly as we had before, even the mineral water on the table was the same brand.

Rose looked at us both, and then "Well Tim, I think it's your turn. What do you feel about what Beth had to say last time?"

"Well, I'm not sure I've thought it all through yet. I thought it was honest. I didn't like it all, some parts of it I hated. But I do recognise that it was very hard for Beth to talk like that, and I do appreciate that she did. I guess there are some parts where I want to shout at her WHY? They still don't make sense to me. She admits she knew it was terribly wrong from the very beginning. She even tells us that she didn't particularly like what they were doing. And yet she went on doing it. Why, for God's sake? Why?" I could feel myself getting upset, the anger and hurt were still bubbling up.

Before I could continue Rose turned to Beth "Well Beth, do you have any more you can add that might explain it in a way Tim could understand?"

"Not really. I have asked myself those questions so often. After the first time, it became steadily easier, one more time wouldn't hurt. And I can only assume that at some level I must have enjoyed it. I certainly enjoyed being driven around in a large Mercedes by a rich and successful man, I enjoyed the fine wining and dining. At first I think I enjoyed the sex, it was different, and because of that it was exciting. Then, it became dull but I guess it was the price I paid for the excitement of the rest of it, and the excitement of this secret life. And then I became hurt by it and didn't like it and I wanted out, I still don't really understand why I didn't get out sooner, I let it drift" she looked up at me "It ran the gamut from a tentative start to exhaustion in three months, and actually was at its height for only a week or two in the middle. There weren't that many times of any real meaning. But I know that's still too much, still wrong." Beth seemed brighter, more relaxed, more willing to talk. I guess, for her the worst was over. She'd done the big confession bit.

I looked at her "On Wednesday there did seem to be a lot of blame put on Ken. But he didn't force you in any way did he?"

She sat back in her chair "Oh No! Without doubt he was the one that wanted the affair to happen. He instigated it, but he didn't force me. I went into it knowing exactly what I was doing. He only made it easy for me. " she paused, as if she was going to continue, which she did "The only time I ever felt some vague possible threat was towards the end. I don't think he actually said anything that could be construed as a threat, but he did manage to make me think 'what happens if I dump him and he cuts up rough. What damage will he do? Would he then either tell you or make sure you found out?' Certainly that thought went through my head, and maybe delayed my ending it by a bit."

Rose was taking notes, and was obviously prepared to jump in as a referee, but I suspect she was happy to let Beth and myself make the running. 

I thought it was time I made a small confession "Did you ever get to ride in his Bentley?"

"No never. That Bentley was a sacred object, not to be sullied by letting your mistress ride in it."

"Well, you may still have your chance." Both Beth and Rose looked mystified. So I told them of Jean's revenge, and that I was likely to become the owner of the Bentley fairly soon. Both were amazed by the story.

It was Beth who observed "Perfect Jean. That's a revenge that will hurt." 

Rose took a more diplomatic route "Well, it'll be up to Beth whether she has any difficulty dealing with Ken's Bentley being in your garage." I had to admit that I hadn't thought about that, what would Beth think of me driving around in her ex-lover's old car? That wouldn't be an easy one to deal with.

"Can I ask a slightly sexual question?" I looked at Rose.

"Sure, but it'll be up to Beth whether she answers it, but go ahead."

"OK. One minor thing that has been troubling me is my birthday. Suddenly you seemed to encourage me to shave your pussy. You've never done that before. So why then? Was it for Ken or at his request?"

"No. He had said, on a couple of occasions, that he thought the shaved pussies of models and porn actresses were very sexy. But he never asked me to do it, or even hinted that I should. I don't think anyone had ever done anything like that in his life before, not for him. I was just a bit scared that he might one day try it, and I didn't want him to do that, and I was scared how I might have to explain it to you. But I think all of that was just fear in my imagination. And then, on your birthday we got into that game play. And it seemed fun, it seemed to be something that I could give you. So I wanted you to do it, but I have to admit I was relieved that it meant Ken couldn't. He never even mentioned it. Maybe he never noticed, or did notice and liked to think it was for him, but didn't dare ask in case it wasn't. I don't know." Beth was definitely happy and bright to talk about these things. I felt it was me that was being slow and cautious.

"Can I go back to the Why question, because that is at the nub of our problem. If you weren't happy, if you found you felt jealous of Bev or Frances, why didn't you talk to me? We did talk about everything."

"Because I wasn't conscious that that was how I felt. If you'd ask me then I would have said I was happy, how I was looking forward to grouting the bathroom tiles at the weekend, it was another step on the way to us building our lovely home. And that's true, I was pleased to do it, don't think I begrudged it. But when talking to Rose I began to see that it had a downside too."

Rose poured herself a glass of water, Beth and myself watched her. "Well, unless you two have anything immediately obvious that you want to talk about that comes out of Beth's story I guess we can move on a stage." she waited while we answered her with silence. "OK. Then tell me Tim, how do you view your future now?"

"I don't know. I honestly don't know. I can see no excuse for what Beth did in what she's told me...."

Rose interrupted. "I don't think she was offering as an excuse. She seems to accept her fair share of blame in this story."

"Well, I still have to ask 'Why?'. There seemed to be a bit of buck passing, to Ken obviously, and to me a bit. She seemed to imply that somehow I'd not been there for her at critical times. Well, I've searched my conscience and I don't feel guilty. If I am then I'm sorry. But I don't think I did anything but trust you and love you, Beth."

"No Tim. I'm not blaming you for one second. What I did was wrong, but I did it. No one else is to blame." Beth answered directly to me.

Rose intervened "Tell me about talking to each other, especially about sex and important emotional things." She looked at us both, obviously either could answer.

I picked up the baton, and I saw Beth give me a little half smile acknowledging that I could answer. "Well, we are open and honest with each other. I think we're pretty well balanced sexually. What our needs are and how often. We've talked about all sorts of kinks and things, but I don't think either of us was particularly into those sorts of things. I did blindfold her once, it was good, I think we both enjoyed it, but it wasn't that special, and we never did it again."

"So there were no incompatibilities at all? How were you going to keep it interesting if you weren't trying new things, and surely they weren't always a success for both of you?" Rose seemed to be wishing some problem onto us. I wondered why?

Again I chose to answer. "Well, we could always talk. I remember I want to try anal sex, but Beth wouldn't go for it. Do you remember Beth? I tried to talk you into it for quite some time before I gave up on the idea?"

Beth blushed and looked up "Well you could try it now if you wanted..."

I looked at her, my mind racing "Oh Beth. Don't tell me you did, not with him?..."

"I told you he took what he wanted, when he wanted. I'm sorry Tim. It didn't seem that...."

I had stood up and was out of the garden door in a second. After all I'd heard, after all the pain, for some reason this was important, this was the final straw. I paced Rose and Charlie's lawn, immaculate but with some early leaves of autumn lying on it. Eventually I calmed down, but I was at the side of the house when I looked up. Rose was standing at the door to the sitting room, watching me. My car was in sight on the drive. I got into it and drove off.

---

On the Sunday morning I was working at my dining table. Timesheets, progress reports and work estimates for the ITP project spread out. My laptop open. It was about noon, and I was sitting back wondering what I would do about lunch when there was a knock at my door.

It was Rose, her eyes were blazing, she was obviously furious as I stood aside and she marched into the flat, straight to the living room. As I followed her she turned round to face me "How dare you walk out on me? I know those sessions can be hard. Shout if you want to. Cry if you want to - I'll pass you a tissue and hold your hand. But never walk out. Do I make myself clear? You do not, note the word not, walk out on a session. Now your lucky, I've calmed down a bit, I've been to Church this morning and some Christian charity has rubbed off on me, because otherwise Tim Williams...."

All I could say was "I'm sorry! I was upset."

Rose paused to look at me and let out a huge sigh. "I'll make some coffee. You'd better save whatever your doing on your computer. We've got some talking to do." And she went off to my kitchen.

In about five minutes she was back with two mugs of coffee. "So, what is so special about anal sex? You'd sat through a long and painful confession from Beth only three days beforehand and I thought you behaved remarkably well. I've had clients who have thrown the furniture around at that stage. And then you walk out on this. Why?"

"I don't know. It struck a nerve. I don't know I even want to talk about it."

She sat down on the sofa and looked at me, still standing at the table, shuffling papers. "I once had a couple who had driven miles to consult me, and I wondered why. They were on the point of splitting up, and yet neither would admit to any problem. I dug deeper and deeper, week after week. Nothing. And then, eventually, I got to it. He was an infantilist. He liked to wear a nappy and have his mummy look after him. I began to have sympathy for her. Then it got worse, he liked to mess his nappy and have his mummy clean him up and give him a fresh nappy. Well, if Charlie ever went near a nappy as far as I was concerned it would be grounds for divorce. This poor woman had put up with this for years. Can you image having to change a grown man's pooped nappy as sex play? Well, OK at least I'd got to the problem. But no, I was wrong. The problem was he expected her to wash and iron the nappies ready for next time. Once he agreed to do his own laundry they went off as happy as could be. To the best of my knowledge they are still together some fifteen years later. I've heard it all, Tim, don't bottle it up just because it's sex."

She passed me my coffee and I sat down in a chair. I was smiling at her story, and her eyes were now smiling.

"Oh, I don't know Rose. It isn't that I won't talk about it. It's that I don't know what to say. Yes, anal sex is something I really wanted to try. I talked to Beth about it and she was very very reluctant, scared it would hurt. I bought the lube and everything, I got her into position a couple of times, but as soon as I started, got anywhere near her, she was sobbing. Of course I gave up. It really wasn't so important that I would upset her over it. But when I heard yesterday, well..."

"Your male ego was hurt. That's OK. I can understand that. Another man, your wife. Something you've never done. It's OK Tim."

"I guess I'll get over it in time. After all, neither of us were virgins when we met. and her previous lovers have never worried me. I know I wasn't the first guy she gave a blow job to, but then again, she wasn't the first girl to give me one. Maybe that's part of it. There was one virgin hole left. One part of her that one day would be exclusively mine, or at least no other man's. I don't think I thought like that, but may be...."

"You know, Tim. I've been surprised that sex has featured very little in this case. I'm sure that your sex life with Beth was very important to you, I know it was to Beth. And yet, you haven't ranted and raved ever about the sex between her and Ken, not that it was much from what I understand. It's been about the betrayal of the relationship hasn't it? That she shared her mind as well as her body with someone else. Well, I can understand that, but I still think the sexual side needs some consideration. That's why I raised it yesterday. "

I took a sip of coffee. "Go on."

"Well, you and Beth have had a sexual relationship for about nine or ten years. Right?" I nodded. "Well, with the best will in the world, it can get stale. A range of comfortable positions. The usual fantasies you both like to talk about. Maybe the same nights of the week, or the infamous weekend mornings in bed? Great sex, both of you enjoy it, but predictable? That's why Beth found sex with Ken exciting and different to start. Maybe you both should give thought to how you can push it on to just something new. Not kinky, not outside your comfort zones. But just different to normal. A new experience. Look, you two are happy to talk about these things, imagine the problems of middle aged couples who have been married for twenty years and can't communicate about things. You and Beth have a huge advantage."

"You speak as if you think we'll get back together?" I looked at her.

"Well I don't know that. And it's not my job. My job is to make you both understand what happened, and be comfortable with what you both do in the future, together or apart. I told you, I'm not anti-divorce."

"And myself and Beth?"

"I don't know. I know she loves you, that you're her world. But she has lost some faith in you, because on this terrible occasion, and even though she brought it on herself, you didn't come through for her when she was in a mess. She knows the facts, she accepts the responsibility, but there is still shock inside her that you didn't put your arms around her and make her mistake go away. And, I don't think you were watching her yesterday, when you told us about Ken's Bentley. I don't think she liked that."

"And me?"

"You can answer that best. I think you still love her, but I think with every day that passes, you get more used to the idea of a life without her. I think you can accommodate what she did, and live with it. You are capable of moving forward to a new life with her. I know you don't really think she would ever do it again, and I certainly think she's learned her lesson. But I think there's a little righteous voice inside of you shouting 'She must be punished. She must suffer for her sins. You can't trust a hussy like her.' But at what price, Tim? At the price of your own future happiness? I can't answer that one."

She put her coffee mug down on the table, "I must go; Charlie will be waiting for me. And I've said what I've got to say. Phone me if you want to reconvene with Beth, or talk to her direct, you don't need me there. I've done my bit, I got Beth to tell the truth. It's up to you and Beth, whatever you both decide, you don't need a middle aged estate agent fussing around you." And she got up, I kissed her on both cheeks and she was gone.

I didn't do anything about it, and I really didn't want to talk to Phil, for fear that somehow it would get back to Beth through Denny. And anyway, until I had sifted all my muddled thoughts into sensible questions, there was no problem to discuss. Time will resolve things.

Work was as busy as ever. ITP paid the other half of their instalment payment, and management thought the sun shone out of an orifice I'd never see. I was obviously doing well, Darren and Sheila were really beginning to hate my guts. 

Davinia was really getting into her job and the life of the department. One afternoon I was in my office talking with Dave when she brought us some tea. Dave watched her leave the office and turned to me with the one word summation of his thoughts "Pity!". I knew how he felt. "Yes, it's a pity. But there you are, one where we both came along too late."



TGI Chronicles Pt. 1 Ch. 11



It was Saturday 5th November that things changed; firework night - well it was this year for me. It was another Saturday evening in by myself. Saturday evenings were the times I felt loneliest, the evenings when I would sit and think of Beth. What was she doing? Did she miss me? Why hadn't she phoned me after the meetings with Rose? Why hadn't I phoned her? Could I get over her unfaithfulness and move forward with her? 

Well on this Saturday I had just poured my first whisky when there was a knock at my door. I opened it, and Beth stood there, looking good. Her hair looked recently cut and styled, her make up was light and perfect. She was wearing a light coat that I hadn't seen before, it was tied attractively with a belt at her waist. She stood there in the outside light. "Hello, Beth."

"Hello, Tim" And she pulled the belt tie. The coat fell open, under it she was naked. Nude, perfect. I noticed immediately that she had shaved her pussy completely, Smooth, white and hairless. She walked passed me, dropping the coat in the hall. She headed straight to the bedroom. I stood by the open door, speechless.

And then I remembered. Three of four years ago we watched some perfectly average film. And for some reason in the plot, a very beautiful Hollywood actress had travelled across town to seduce her boyfriend, dressed as Beth was dressed, in nothing but a coat. I remember saying at the time that I thought it was damn sexy thing to do. Beth had remembered.

I followed her into the bedroom. She was lying on the bed, her arms outstretched towards me. I sat on the edge of the bed, and put my hands out to hold her, but saying "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Her hands went to my crotch and held my rigid cock through my trousers. "Yes." Was all she said. She moved forwards, scrabbling at my zip, and then my cock was in her mouth. I was lost. 

"Come on, Tim. I need to taste you properly. Undress. I need to see and feel that body."

And I did. I stood up, with her still trying to suck me as I pulled my jumper over my head. She had found my belt, and soon my trousers and boxers were at my ankles. I sat on the bed and tried to kick them off, and then get my socks off. Why are socks always such a bloody nuisance at times like these? But then I was naked and lying on my back. 

Beth set to with enthusiasm, taking my cock into her mouth deeper than I've ever known her to do it before. Suddenly there was a tighter feeling at my cock head. Then Beth came up, gasping for air and with tears in her eyes. Then she plunged herself down again. For the first time ever, she was deep throating me. I wasn't going to last long with this. How many weeks of celibacy? I didn't last long. She gagged a little on the sheer quantity, but she swallowed the lot.

"O.K. Are you going to tell me what this is about?" I asked, when we'd got our breath back.

"Yes. In the morning. But not now. But I promise you, there are no strings attached, unless you want to try a little bondage, I hadn't thought of that." She smiled at me, leaning across my chest, her nipples brushing me lightly. "Now, go and find us a bottle of wine, and I'll talk about other things."

I kissed her lightly. It seemed so natural to raise my head a little off the pillow and just kiss her forehead. Then she moved off me so that I could go and find that bottle of wine.

I wandered off to the kitchen, looking back at her from the bedroom door as I left. She lay on her side, watching me, her breasts falling sideways or downwards to the bed, her bald pussy part hidden by the angle of her hips and the bend of her top leg.

In a couple of minutes I was back with an open bottle of the best red wine I had and a couple of glasses. I put them down on the bedside table and filled the glasses. She watched me in silence, and took a glass when I handed it to her.

"This is unfair, Beth. You've got to tell me what's going on here. We haven't even emailed in weeks, and now this."

"No, I told you I'll explain in the morning. Trust me on this one. Nothing bad is going to happen, I'm not going to hurt you in any way. And I mean it, there are no strings attached. Now how are you, Tim? You're looking good, have you been working out?"

I sat on the bed. "Yes. Didn't Phil or Denny tell you? I go to the gym several times a week. I love it. I feel better, I think I'm looking better, and occasionally I get chatted up by nice men who have a lifestyle so different to my own."

She laughed. I hadn't realised, but I had missed that laugh. I hadn't heard it in months. It was music to my ears, as bad poets say. 

We talked easily. For a golden moment all the problems slipped away. Our talk drifted to that time on our honeymoon when we had spent the whole evening in bed. It was in the second week and we realised that the hotel had a weekly cycle of its tourist entertainment in the evenings, and Wednesdays was the day for the excruciatingly bad folk group. We had taken two bottles of wine and gone to our room. Beth reminded me that we had managed 'it' three times that evening, a feat of which I was quite proud. Then her head fell to my lap with a comment about how twice wasn't too much to ask.

Once her mouth had brought me to full erection again, I went to move over her, to make love to her. But she stopped me. "No. Please Tim. Use my bottom. Not hard, not in anger against Ken, but as you would. Gently, slowly, trying to make me enjoy it. Please, I want you to."

"No, Beth. I just want you."

"Good. I want you, but I do want you in my bottom. It's important to me. I came here with this in mind. I've already put a lot of Vaseline in me. Just do it, as you would. My bottom is a virgin to your gentle love, it's only known pain, and only twice. Introduce it to love. Please Tim."

So that is what we did. It was my first time. And it felt so different. I took it very very slowly, with gentle short strokes. And she didn't wince or sob once. For obvious reasons I couldn't see her face, so I don't really know how good it was for her, but it was a new thrill to me. And I loved her for giving me this.

After I came deep in her bowels, I carefully withdrew and fell on my back on the bed. She immediately rolled over and lowered her head to my crotch.

"No, Beth. Think where it's been."

But she took me deeply into her mouth. I was softening, and I didn't reach to the back of her throat this time. But I felt her tongue swirling around me, licking at the last drops of cum from me. And then she came off me with a last kiss to my cock. I was spent. Somehow we got the duvet over us and I fell asleep with her curled in under my arm, with her head on my shoulder.

I woke up in the morning, lying on my side facing her. As I opened my eyes I saw her, lying on her side, facing me, watching me. "Good morning." she greeted me.

"Hi." I rolled onto my back. "Are you going to tell me now what brought this on."

"Not quite yet. We've got round three to go." she said as her hand went out across my stomach. She found her target, and found that it was already standing waiting for her.

"Good, ready and primed." And she knelt up, over me and lowered herself onto me. We fell into a soft easy rhythm, learnt over years. If last night was new territory, then this was familiar ground. My hands went up her body from her hips, in co-ordinated movements her arms moved to give me freedom of her breasts, my thumbs rubbing over her hard nipples.

And then in unison, we rolled sideways and then with her on her back, her legs locked around my waist. And we finished in hard sweating passion, cumming together.

I rolled off, onto my back.

"And now I can tell you." She was on her side, again tucked under my arm with her head on my shoulder.

"Do."

"Well, I was on a potential win-win situation. First and most important, I decided we needed something big to breakdown the wall that was between us, something that would help us both decide if there was really anything left."

That was interesting 'us both decide?' "And?"

"And the other one was selfish. You may have had nightmares about myself and Ken together. I had nightmares that the last man who had my pussy was Ken. The last man and only man to ever use my bottom was Ken. The last man to whom I'd given a blow job was Ken. And I hated that. I felt dirty, but I couldn't wash it away. I could see myself growing old and bitter still knowing that my last man was my biggest, worst mistake. I needed to eradicate that thought."

"You used me." I said. She raised her head to look at me, and she saw I was smiling.

"Yes. But it went further than that. I wanted to give myself more than I'd ever given myself to any man ever before. I had to go further. So, I've spent hours and hours on the Internet. There are some very strange sites out there, I never knew that some people can find some very odd things so sexy. But I found that I had to go deeper, to take your cock down my throat to make my blow job be more than any blow job I've ever given. And that I had to swallow. Girls that swallow are a big thing for some sites. Well, to be honest, I've always swallowed, it never crossed my mind not to. But Ken never expected it, I never swallowed for him once, he always handed me a tissue or handkerchief or suggested that I spit it out in the bathroom. Obviously no one had ever swallowed for him, but I don't think he'd ever had many blow jobs in his life anyway. But, I had to swallow last night, it was important."

"Go on."

"Well the anal bit was obvious. But it was important to me that you took me slowly and in the loving way that I knew you would. I prepared for that, I even gave myself a home enema last night before I came out. I don't fancy doing that bit again. But I planned it that I would give you the blow job first, to ease some of your enthusiasm so that you could take it a bit slower. And the same time, I hadn't had a man in me for weeks, so I would be keen, even for anal sex. And then the Internet had told me that ass-to-mouth was the thing, that I had to take you in my mouth after you came out of my bottom. It sounded pretty yucky, but I was determined to do it, and actually it wasn't that bad. You see, I thought it all through. And that just left making love this morning. And you did that perfectly. So there's my win position, and no strings attached."

"And the shaving your pussy?"

"Oh, Yes. That was just part of the going further bit. Like turning up here with nothing but a coat. I have a set of clothes in a bag tucked under your stairs outside by the way. But I did come all the way from home in just the coat. I did it properly."

"You remembered that film!"

"I've been remembering a lot of good times for these past few weeks. Not the big, obvious events, just the little comfortable special moments. Oh sorry..." She stopped to wipe her eyes, I got out of bed to find her a handkerchief. She took it with "Thanks. That's the trouble with travelling light."

"I rather like it. I've always loved just looking at you in the nude. It was always one of my great pleasures."

"I know. Sometimes I think I didn't walk around naked often enough for you."

I sat on the edge of the bed. And looked at her. "So, what now?"

"Some breakfast I hope. But before you go off to desperately look at what you've got that can create some form of an OK breakfast for an unexpected visitor, I've got something else to say."

She paused to compose herself. Obviously whatever it was it was important. I just waited.

"Well, I don't know whether we'll ever really get back together. I've learnt to accept that in these last few weeks. But I do know that I want to give you, or any new man I one day get, more of me than I ever gave before. I've learnt some things about me in all of this." 

She looked at me, probably for reassurance. I smiled and said, "Tell me. Remember, we can talk about anything."

"Well, I've realised that I am a bit of a submissive. I guess it was always there in our sex, the blindfold bit, that sex was usually initiated by you rather than me, that I liked to dress to please you, all that sort of thing. Well with Ken it was closer to a master and slave relationship. He would never see himself like that, because he didn't have the imagination and it wasn't the sort of thing that senior members of the golf club did, but to me there was a hint of it. He would order me around, and in some ways that was what was exciting at the beginning. You were always so gentle and loving, even though you were in charge. But then I realised that I didn't like it with him, without love it was meaningless, and without thought for the other one, without the please and thank-you's if you like, without the respect it was horrid. But there is that submissive streak, I want to give, it pleases me to give myself totally to the man I love. So, I want the man in my life to know that I will always say Yes. He can have me anywhere, anytime for anything. I don't promise that I'll get turned on by every act or by every fantasy, but I will get turned on giving myself totally to the man I love and who loves me."

"You're right. There was always a hint of it in our life, but I didn't push it. I guess I respected you too much to demand anything that you might think was outlandish. And I didn't know that you would want me to push it."

"Nor did I." She leant across the bed to kiss me. It was our first true kiss in so many months, a full tongue fight. I'm not sure what this was doing to my emotions, but a part of me was beginning to stand up for its own interests, again. I broke away. 

"I think there might be some pain-au-chocolat in the freezer. But no drinking chocolate. You'll have to put up with coffee and some orange juice." I grabbed my robe and went off.

Having set things off in the kitchen, I went back to the bedroom. She was laying on the bed, still naked, and still beautiful. "In here or at the table?"

"At the table. I think I'd like to sit and talk and be civilised. Can I borrow one of your shirts?"

"No. Stay nude. I want to look at you."

"Oh. OK."

"In fact, breakfast can wait long enough for me to have a shower." And I went off to the bathroom.

And that's what we did. We had breakfast at the table with me casually but fully dressed and her totally naked. It was so sexy.

"You've changed, Beth. You're a different person."

"Yes I am, but so are you."

"Well I know I was changing, getting used to this new life, but I guess my image of you was as you used to be. It's logical that you're different as well. After all, you've gone through a pretty traumatic experience as well."

"Well, now I'm beginning to actual believe some of the things that I said to you Tim. I can't change the past, I've got to live with it, and I refuse to pretend that any part of my life didn't happen. So I can only learn by it. And then I can move forward."

"Do you think we have a future?"

"Apart? I'm sure both of us can get through this and we will find our way to happiness in the end, maybe a bit wiser. Together? Well, I can imagine that it won't happen. But, yes, I think we still have a chance."

"I did love you so much. And last night and this morning wasn't bad." I smiled.

"Don't be fooled by just sex, Tim. Even wonderful loving sex like we've just had. To make it work we'd both have to really want to, and it would still have its bad times."

We paused and fell to silence. Then I brought the conversation back to her "Tell me how else you've changed."

"Well I remember you accused me on that Thursday night of living by the day. And you were right. I was no good at thinking about tomorrow. I knew where I wanted to get to, and I could cope with today. It was the middle ground that I was useless with. That may have been part of why I fell into such a mistake, I knew it wasn't forever with Ken, and I didn't think enough about the damage it could do in the short term. Before now, when you were worrying about money and I was saying not to worry we've got growing careers so it would all work out in the long term, you used to say 'There won't be a long term if we don't get through tomorrow.' Well I've only just realised how right you were."

"My! You have changed."

"Oh, I'm trying.... Oh, I want us to sell the house."

"You do?"

"Yes. Well, you won't ever want to live there again, and I realised that although I love being surrounded by the association of good memories, the house itself was part of my downfall. I bit off more than I could chew when we took it on, it's cost me too much and I want it to go."

"We should have a word with Rose. With all the work we did, we should make a good profit on it."

"Well, let's do that. Now I'm going to take another cup of coffee, and I want to sit on the sofa, just as I am and I want you to sit in one of the chairs."

"OK" I said, slightly mystified, but picking up my coffee, and going over to a chair.

She sat in the middle of the sofa, still nude. Her legs together and her hands on her knees. "And now I want to complete what I came here for. I want to give you something else. To go further than ever before, to do something I've never done before for anyone."

She started to run her hands over her breasts. Then her knees parted and a hand went down to that beautiful shaved pussy. Within minutes she was leaning back on the sofa, her legs wide apart, pumping her pussy with two fingers from one hand and the other hand rubbing her clit. She came with an explosion that lifted her hips off the sofa for a second or two. I sat there in total silence, but gently rubbing my crotch, my cock rigid under my trousers.

When she'd recovered herself, she looked at me with a smile "Surprising what ideas you can pick up on the Internet . Now I need a shower and I need you to nip downstairs and get my clothes."

"And what about what you've done to me?" I asked thrusting my hips forward and opening my legs. By erection showed blatantly through my tented trousers.

"Oh, I'm sorry Tim. I forgot the effect I was likely to have on you when I planned my four acts. Of course you can have me or I'll give you a blow job, whatever you want."

"No, you're right, Beth. It's been the perfect one of everything. I have no right to ask more, not unless I attach some strings. I'll get over it. We could share a cold shower?"

"Well, no thanks, that just sounds chilly and it might still not have the calming effect you want if I'm there. We can save that for another time."

We were both smiling. I didn't know whether I wanted my wife back, but I have got my friend back.

I went and collected her bag of clothes and left it outside the bathroom. I cleared the breakfast and by the time I'd done she was back, fully dressed. She looked good.

"What are you doing for your birthday?" I asked.

"Nothing planned. Why?"

"Well I thought I might take you to The Lobster Pot. If you remember we never made it the last time I suggested it."

"I'd like that very much. Not only would it be nice in itself, it would lay one more very minor ghost. Every time I pass it I'm aware of what might have been."

And that's the way we left it. We kissed, a proper loving but not passionate kiss as we parted at the bottom of my staircase.

---

For the rest of Sunday my mind could think of nothing but Beth. Did I want to get back with her? Could I really forgive her? Could I forget? Had she changed? Was she really different? And if so, did I like the new Beth? Would she love the new Tim? I was beginning to realise that all those people who had advised me that reconciliation took two were telling the truth. I had to admit that I had been thinking, very arrogantly, that the decision was totally mine. Beth was her own person, it was also up to her. And it would be a new marriage, a new house built from the ruins of the old one? Oh no, I couldn't have a mother that was right.




TGI Chronicles Pt. 1 Ch. 11



On the Monday I had a long heart to heart with Dave. Not about Beth, but about the organisation of the department. I wanted him as my deputy, but not in the way that Perry had used me, splitting the department and giving me a separate empire. I wanted Dave to be the project co-ordinator, managing our prime resource of people allocation, and keeping himself well informed on every piece of work. That would mean there was a true deputy in the department, and it would play to both our strengths. He took some persuading. He liked the idea of promotion, but I think he had ideas of his own little empire as I had once had. And, of course, there was always the dichotomy that it would put a gulf between him and his colleagues if he could roam over all their work, but that was the cost of promotion. That bit had to be explained with a pint over lunch. 

Once I'd convinced him, I went off to see Neil. He just said yes, he didn't even want to know the details. As far as he was concerned it was up to me to run my department as I saw fit. He just sent me to Charlie to get Dave's pay and rations sorted out.

Then it was back to see Dave and explain all to him. After that it was a process of seeing all the other project managers individually, some took it better than others. Some were genuinely pleased for Dave, others less so. But they were all pleased that we used them as the channel of communication to their teams, rather than a big departmental announcement.

Dave took everyone to the pub after work. I counted myself out, it was better to leave it to him. Instead I went to the gym. After that I went home and phoned Phil. It was time to introduce him to the joys of the Black Swan.

We met that evening, and I could see from his face that he was impressed by the pub, he even commented "This used to be such a dump."

"Yes, but the neighbourhood's going up by leaps and bounds. So much better class of person is moving in."

"Yes, but their letting off their garage apartments to the hoi-polloi." He said with a smile.

"Do you want some gossip, ahead of Denny?"

"Power! Yes please."

So I told him, without the anatomical detail, about the weekend. He just listened, watching me. When I finished a fair but clinical description of Beth's visit, he just said "And?"

"And it was the best sex ever. Better than our honeymoon. Better than our first night. Better than anything we ever achieved when we were together." 

"Did it involve whipped cream?"

"No. Why?"

"Well Denny's been going on a bit about how we should experiment more. So I suggested licking whipped cream off her naked body. But she said it would just be wet and sticky and would tickle."

"I think I'm with Denny on that one. Especially if I was the lickee and not the licker."

"Well I shan't invite you for a threesome then! Not if you aren't into whipped cream! Actually, it was something I read in a magazine many years ago, and I thought it sounded fun. But it isn't one of my fetishes or anything."

"You have fetishes?" I asked, with incredulity. 

"No. But I might have. I might be a sexual magician of mystery and depth. Usually I'm just grateful." he said with a philosophical smile.

I started thinking aloud, "Anyway. Sex as good as Beth and I had yesterday must mean something. You don't have sex that good unless there's a special something." 

"But that's no surprise. Of course Beth is a special something to you. It's just that you don't want to be married to her." He paused to look at me "Or do you? Is this what this is about. You're beginning to think that you might get back together?"

"Well I have been wondering? What do you think?"

"It doesn't matter what I think, or what I would do in your position. You've got to work this one out by yourself."

"I know." I stopped and pointedly looked at our empty glasses. "Your just here to keep me refreshed while I'm on the wrack."

He smiled and went off to get the next round. When he returned, and we'd both taken our first sip of the new pints, I put my glass down "It's all Rose's doing."

"What is?"

"This push the boundaries, keep the sex fresh thing. She had a go at me about it. Had myself and Beth fallen into comfortable routines? Had, unwittingly, Beth got bored? I'm sure she had a go at Beth on the same thing. And Beth would have told Denny, and you're the lucky recipient."

"You could be right. Well done Rose." He raised his glass and toasted her. "Well where does all this leave you? Do you still love her?"

I looked at him, I knew that was sort of the basic question. I took a long draught of beer, to give myself some time. Then I paused to give myself some more time. "Yes, but I thought it was not as much as I once did. And that's not just the pain and hurt, it's that separation does make things fade slowly. But, yesterday...?"

We fell into silence as we both drank. Then Phil asked the next obvious question "And does Beth still love you?"

Again I paused. Again I took a drink. "Yes, or at least she says she does. But I think even for her it was less than she used to. That was a bit of a shaker, not at all good for my ego, but it's probably fair and right. I hurt her when I walked out, and she is damaged by what she's done. She's changed, you know, Phil."

"In what way?" He asked, once he'd put his glass down.

"She's more confidant. She's faced up to a side of herself that she doesn't like, and accepted it and decided to cope with it. And she's more sexual than ever."

"Well that's two good changes I would have thought. Not that she wasn't sexual to start with." He paused. "Not that I have any reason to say that, you understand."

"Yes, you're right. If I did go back, and if we could make it work, then it might be rather fun in parts." I smiled. I took a last long draught as I considered the possibility of being back with a Beth as she had been this weekend, and put my glass down.

Phil followed suit, emptying his glass and putting it on the table. I went on thinking, sitting there in silence. Phil watched me, waiting quietly.

Then he spoke. "You've changed you know."

"Have I? How?"

"Well there was a time when you would get your round in without question. But these days..." I got up with the two glasses.

When I returned, he took his glass and had a sip, then he looked at me, "If you think you want to try to make it work, well why not have a trial reconciliation? Get back together, with no promises. But you would have to be convinced that you can really make it work, you can't ignore how badly she hurt you, you know, Tim. And she can't ignore how badly she went off the rails. I'm sure it would be tough. But it seems to me that if you both have changed enough and you both really want it, then just maybe..."

"No. Just going back with the idea that either of us could walk out at anytime? Well that would pretty well guarantee that one of us would walk out at some time. If it were to happen, it would have to be a bigger commitment than that, something to get us over the rough times, because there would be rough times. Even when she was there this weekend, it still hurt to look at her sometimes and to remember something of what she did, or when she mentioned something to do with what went wrong. That's my fear that those painful memories become too much, or that the walking on eggshells gets to be too much."

"Well, do what Denny always says we're going to have to do. Go back to Church and take your vows again. Both of you committing yourselves to the new relationship. Or how about just dating? No commitments, just boy and girl stuff."

"No, that doesn't make sense. Role play sort of stuff has always struck me as a load of rubbish. I am who I am, the situation is as it is. We can't go back to just dating, it may work for some people, but not me."

"Well I've run out of suggestions then."

"Well, while I think, tell me about you and Denny taking your vows again. What have you done wrong that warrants that?"

"Nothing. Denny has always said that she wants to refresh everything and make us understand our commitment by taking our vows every ten years say. I've always known that, it's a big thing with her. Personally I couldn't care less, but if that's what she wants to do, well I don't object. Especially if her father will pay for the booze up afterwards again."

"I don't think it works like that."

"Bugger. Well that's off then. No bloody point."

Not long after that we finished our pints. He wandered off towards the taxi rank at the bottom of the High Street and I went home.

Not really a lot happened after that, all week. On the Friday night I met Phil and Denny for a curry. Denny was full of unasked questions. Eventually she could contain herself no longer, she just had to say something, "You had an interesting weekend last week I hear."

"Yes. I told Phil about it. I can't believe he didn't tell you. Or were you too busy expanding your horizons or making sure you didn't get to comfortable and stale, if you know what I mean." I responded with a leer, hoping to kill her line of attack. 

Phil looked up at this "Oh. Yes I told her. Monday night, as soon as I got home. But what I didn't tell her, because I didn't know 'til Denny saw Beth last night is that you're taking Beth to The Lobster Pot for her birthday. Does that imply a decision?"

"No, well not in the way you mean. I'm taking her there just because it seems a nice thing to do. But I've sort of set it as a sort of milestone for making up my mind as to what I want to do."

"Well, if you do want to try to get back together, I'd get on with it. She said that she isn't going to ask you, she doesn't think she has the right to do that, she's waiting for you to do something. And, anyway, she feels she's done her bit when she turned up last Saturday, undressed to the nines."

Phil looked up again "Er. What's that?"

Denny looked at him, with a smile of triumph "I didn't tell you that bit. Just in case you had some idea that I would do it for you. I don't want to catch double pneumonia even for you my love. Let's just say Beth was dressed appropriately for her purpose."

"You were saying. About Beth not doing any more?" I felt that Denny hadn't quite finished.

"Oh. Nothing except that she is changing by the week. She's just getting more and more confidant about her own future. Some guy will spot her if you don't. She won't wait forever."

Phil looked round. "When is Beth's birthday, anyway? I guess I should know, but I don't."

"The twenty-fifth. Exactly two weeks from today." I answered him.

"Oh well, Tim. Go on being indecisive 'til the last moment. I enjoy the beer." Was Phil's final, unhelpful piece of advice.

That weekend I went to the gym on both Saturday and Sunday, not that I was uptight or anything. On the Sunday evening I got very maudlin with the aid of some whisky, sitting in front of my first log fire of the season. Every bit of the hurt and pain of it all came back to me, and I cried. I went to bed thinking I can't go back for more of this.

Then, on Monday morning I got up to the question 'Will it be any less painful if you don't go back? Does not going back somehow cut out the pain?'

On Monday lunchtime, I tried strolling along the river bank, by myself, to the seat. I sat there. It was raining and cold. The weather and myself were in unison, we were both miserable. I had to decide something, I knew I was putting pressure on myself, quite unnecessarily, to come up with a decision, but that was me. I'd set myself a target date to make up my mind, and I had to meet it. 

By Tuesday I had progressed. If I couldn't make up my mind, then I had to give myself the tools to be able to do so. I decided to go to Ireland at the weekend, to see Mum and Dad. Maybe to talk to them, and even less likely, maybe to take their advice. Certainly to sit and stare out to sea until I understood myself well enough to know what I wanted to do.

So that afternoon, I went to see Neil and ask for Friday off. He didn't like that. But I said I needed the time, I gave him enough of a hint that this was deeply personal and important and in the end he gave me the day off and wished me luck. I phoned Mum and Dad and warned them of my imminent arrival. They were delighted.

For the rest of the week, I was more relaxed. I'd given myself a schedule, and a time and place to take the right decision. I didn't even think about the problem very much. I did realise that whatever I decided, I had to back it up with positive action to make it a success. I either had to have a proposal for Beth on how we might proceed, or a plan on how I was going to get out there and start dating again, with all the pain and uncertainty that that brings.

The weekend in Ireland wasn't much fun. The journey was lousy. The plane was full of a very noisy bunch of lads going over for some sporting fixture, rugby I think but I wasn't sure. Then the hire company had had a problem with my booking, the car they scheduled for me had been returned late, and wasn't cleaned, would that be all right? No it bloody well wouldn't be all right. Eventually they upgraded me to a better car that they had spare. Then it was a long drive by myself, in the rain, on a road I didn't know well. And then there was that tension of the first night back, with Mum and Dad not knowing what to say, so painfully trying not to say anything. 

By Saturday, things got easier. Dad's advice was simple and clear cut. Ditch the bitch. It was so quickly and easily given that he devalued it because he hadn't really listened. But if Beth and myself did get back together then Dad had put himself in an interesting position with me and his daughter.

Mum's thinking was more cautious She really didn't want to give any advice, she was more concerned to support me in whatever I decided. Kind as that was, it didn't help much.

The sea helped. It stopped raining, and I sat and looked at it for a long time. By Sunday afternoon I was going home in a happier mood. I had made a decision and I had a plan of action. For the first time in months I knew what I wanted to do, with as much certainty as when I knew I wanted Perry's job.

On the Friday I drove out to the house to pick up Beth. It was the first time I'd been there in months. I noticed that we now had a 'For Sale' sign up, which meant that Rose was getting on with her work. I didn't go in, I didn't want to risk anything, so I just pipped my horn and Beth came out. She looked a million dollars. She was wearing the coat of her visit to Blindside, but I assumed she was slightly more conservatively dressed under it. She jumped into the car.

"Nice car. I remembered that I was rather disparaging of you getting a sports car. I'm sorry."

"Well this was a bit of luck really. Company car policy avoided all sports cars or specifically excluded them from some manufacturers, because of the higher insurance costs I guess. But they listed 'all BMWs', I guess from before the time BMW started making sports cars and then it was just a matter of cost for my status. So I asked for this. Charlie was a bit upset that I'd spotted the gap, but then he let me get away with it, he couldn't really say anything, it had said all BMWs were acceptable.

"Denny told me you got promotion. I assume that you got Perry's old job. What happened to him?"

"Axed." I said.

"Oh."

We chatted amicably all the way to The Lobster Pot. I was lucky and found a space in their too small car park. Normally they can't get all their patrons in. Beth handed her coat over, under it she was wearing a beautiful blue dress, I couldn't say much about style and material, but it was wonderfully too short, and I'm sure she had no bra on, her breasts seemed to move softly and tantalisingly. "You look gorgeous."

"Why thank you, kind sir. Actually, it was an extra birthday present from Daddy. When I told him you were taking me to dinner tonight he told me to go and buy a new dress, no expense spared. So I did, and he hasn't seen what no expense spared means yet."

We chose to sit at our table for our pre-dinner drinks. Once they arrived, we perused the menu and made our decisions. Once that was done, I thought there is no point in hanging around. I owed it to her to be clear as to whether this was just a friendly dinner for her birthday or something more. 

"Beth, I haven't actually bought you a birthday present..."

She looked disappointed. "Oh, that's all right, Tim. I didn't really expect one." 

At that point the waiter turned up to take our order. Once we had got that out of the way, I was about to start speaking again, when Beth held up her hand to stop me, and then the wine waiter turned up to take our wine order, she must have seen him approaching. 

Once he was dealt with, I started again. "Beth, I would like for us to try again...."

Her eyes filled up with tears. She found her purse and opened it, by which time I was holding out my handkerchief. Once she had wiped her eyes I started yet again, "Beth, I would like for us to try again, but I've some plans and ideas that you will need to think about."

"OK, What plans." She was serious.

"Well, I think we should start with a damn good holiday. Somewhere where there's miles of soft white beaches and palm trees and sunshine at this time of year. I don't really care where, Seychelles, Caribbean, Bali wherever you fancy."

"I could manage that bit."

"Well I want that holiday to be the sexiest most passionate time we've had in a long time. We have some catching up to do, and I don't mean just the last few months, maybe before that we had lived a comfortable routine but without an eye on the ball."

"OK. And what else."

"Well, I've some very dirty ideas about the holiday, but I'll come back to that. Then I think we have got to just try to make it work. I know it won't be easy. There will be times when all the pain and all the hurt and even the anger will come back to me. To the point that I might not want to go on. But then again, you might decide that you don't want to go on trying to live with a man who gets angry and depressed and throws your mistake back at you, who makes horrid barbed comments just when you don't need them. And I know you've got a lot of pain and remorse to work out. It won't be easy, and we both have to accept that it might all come to a painful end."

"Oh I hope not. I'll do my best, I promise Tim."

"We both will. And then there will come a time when we both feel that we're over the worst. That we can look forward with confidence. I want to aim that we go back to Church just before my birthday, in April of early May say, and take our vows again." I didn't say 'and you'll have to try to keep them this time' which was the nasty barbed comment in my head, I had some learning of new habits to do. I went on "To make a fresh start. No one else has to be there, or just a few if we want them, but that we recommit ourselves to each other forever. But only after we know we really can do it this time and not just because we want to, like now."

"That's a lovely idea. Did you know that Denny and Phil intend to do that on their tenth wedding anniversary?"

"Yes. Or well Denny wants to and Phil is happy to do so was the way he explained it to me. But it was them that made me think of it. But then, on my thirty-first birthday, if all goes well, and one year late, I do want you to come off the pill. Only if you feel happy to, but I would really like us to have children once we both know we're over this problem."

"Well I won't promise that one now. But it would be lovely if we both felt that the time was right. And yes, I say yes to all your ideas. I do love you Tim. I'm so sorry for what I did." Her eyes began to fill again.

"Well your first lesson must be that you mustn't keep saying you're sorry. I don't want some doormat back. I want a feisty, confidant, very sexy, intelligent wonderful woman for my wife. Or do you think I deserve less?"




TGI Chronicles Pt. 1 Ch. 11



At that point, our starters turned up and our wine. Once the shuffling and arranging and formalities were over. She looked up "You're right. I'm sorry that I'm sorry, if you know what I mean. I don't want you leaving me out of boredom with my apologies."

"And there's another thing. You must either change your job, or at least go in to the office three or four days a week."

"I already do that. At first it was just to get away from Mummy and Daddy, but now it's because I'm living alone. I haven't got a desk there yet, but I am more part of the team. It's helping with the work too." She smiled.

Finally, I added my last condition "And you must think more about you, and how you're feeling. And you must talk to me. I'm not a believer in all the new age mumbo jumbo, but maybe some yoga or meditation or something. Just like the gym's been good for me. Even that, maybe the gym would be good for you too."

Again, she smiled. "Yes, I like that idea. You're right, I need to take a positive step to look after me."

We began eating in silence. My mind was racing on what I'd just done. I guess hers was too. But then she looked up "What were your dirty ideas about the holiday? I like the sound of that."

"You don't know what they are yet. I guess I'm picking up my cue from you the other weekend. I want us to go further, sex is so damned important to us. I guess it is to other folk, but I don't care about them. I don't want us to do anything you ever feel unhappy about, but I do want you to do everything that you feel vaguely OK with. For a start, I want to look at you and know you are mine, that even if I were a million miles away, you were ready for me, wanting me, needing me, sexually that is. I want you to wear dresses and skirts rather than trousers or shorts for the whole holiday. And I don't want you ever wearing panties under them. I want to look at you across a dining table like this and know that you are dressed to be available to me, to be mine at a moments notice. That you haven't even got a thin layer of lace or silk to cover yourself. And even if we're in a crowded tourist market, I want to be able to look at you from a distance and know you are ready and available and mine."

She looked a little shocked at the passion of my outburst. She looked around to make sure no one had heard me. But then she looked at me, leaned in across the table a bit and said "It might have its embarrassing moments, but I would like that too Tim. I'd be quite turned on knowing that I was dressed just for you. But can I ask another thing?"

"Do." I put my fork down, I'd finished my starter.

"I don't know how you want me to keep my pubes, and I'll keep them any way you want. But just for this holiday, may I please shave completely. I like the idea of being in the bathroom every day shaving myself smooth, just in case my man wants me. So, may I?"

"Wonderful. I love the idea. And I shall check for smoothness on a regular basis, probably hourly." I smiled.

"I love you, Tim. Thank you for everything; for taking me back; for working out the best way forward for us; for thinking I'm worth it." Her voice was breaking, and she dabbed her eyes "You'll have to excuse me a moment." and she stood and went off to the Ladies. 

On her return, she leant in and gave me a small kiss on the cheek and handed me a small, pretty piece of blue silk and lace. God! I love this woman.

THE END

Epilogue:

About a month after we got back from the most wonderful holiday in Antigua, I had a phone call from Jean. It was time to make her movie.

I went over to her house on a Saturday. Beth wouldn't come, she was very quiet whenever I mentioned it, and didn't even get out of bed when I left for Jean's. 

We made the movie, much as Jean had planned it with me all those month's ago at the Carlton. I did my bit to camera, but it took me two takes. And driving off in that Bentley was one of the hardest things I'd ever done in a car. It was so weird to drive compared to modern cars. Visibility was useless, it was a cross between a perfect limousine and a very crude tank to drive. I had great difficulty in crashing the gears on time, but with some careful editing the director thought he could cover that. 

Eventually, I drove home, back to Blindside. I immediately put the car away in the garage below us. Freddy had already agreed to that, he loved the idea of a vintage Bentley that his tenant had 'inherited' being in his garage. But, with Beth as she was, I thought it best just to hide it away for the moment.

But then, on the Sunday morning, she was up first. "Come on, I've got to face it, let's go out for the day in that damned car." She dressed rather smartly I thought, and I was sure I felt the straps of a suspender belt when I held her. "Well, you have to dress up for a Bentley." Was her only comment. The suspenders were later confirmed when my wandering hand got as far as the stocking top as I drove along. But I couldn't do more, not and drive that machine.

We had a lovely steak lunch at a nice country hotel. Later, at Beth's request, we found a quite car park, high on a cliff, overlooking the sea. It was deserted at that time of the year, and anyway it was late afternoon and beginning to get dark. Then Beth said "Now I've got one more thing I must do." She got out of the car, walked round to the front, where she took off her dress, slowly and sexily, for my delectation, or so I thought. But under it she was wearing the most beautiful maroon and black lace lingerie. She slowly stripped herself of that, and walked up to the cliff edge and threw all three pieces over the edge and into the wind. Then slowly walked back to the car, and got into the back seat, still naked. "Well come on, or have you forgotten what back seats are for?"

We eventually got home, tired and happy. And it wasn't too late.