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Not Just for Christmas Ch. 10-13

By: Alwaysraining



There is a little sex in this part, eventually.

Chapter Ten

Tom had kept in touch with Mike, and they had gone out some Fridays, but Mike rather cramped Tom's style since he didn't want to bed any girls, and that was usually the purpose of Tom's Friday outings.

It was the second Friday in September when Tom phoned Mike. The younger children were not visiting that weekend, Mike thought Ginny was going to a birthday party and Ryan was having a sleepover at a friend's house.

"You've got to come out tonight," Tom told him eagerly. "I know where Dylan will be. It really is time we found out what's been going on."

So Mike went, meeting Tom as usual before moving on to the Vista Club. It was a small place, badly lit, but the music was quiet enough for people to be able to talk to one another as well as dance and drink. 

They entered cautiously and Tom spotted Dylan in a corner with a woman. Neither Mike nor Tom knew her. They walked quickly to his table and he looked up. Then fear crossed his face.

"You are going to invite us to sit down?" asked Tom pleasantly though the menace in his tone also shone through.

"I've not a lot of choice have I?" he grumbled. "Hello Mike."

Mike nodded to him. Dylan did not introduce the woman who looked relaxed, until Mike began to speak.

"Now Dylan," Mike said calmly. "You owe me a lot of money."

"I'm paying you off," Dylan interrupted. Mike frowned.

"Not very quickly, it was a bridging loan," he stated. "So listen well. I'm going to ask you some questions, and you're going to give me answers that are as full as you can make them and that are truthful -- in fact the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, understand?"

Dylan nodded, and the woman began to look frightened.

"Some of the questions I already know the answers to," Mike smiled wryly, "but you don't know which. You lie, or if I even think you're lying, and I foreclose on that debt of yours."

"You can't do that. It's a loan between friends."

"I can and I will," Mike replied. "The money belongs to my company and the loan was notarised."

He shrugged, but Mike was sure he understood he was in danger of bankruptcy. 

"What's this all about anyway," he moaned. "I've not done anything to upset you."

"That remains to be seen," Mike responded. "First question. When you wanted the bridging loan, were you shagging my wife?"

Dylan looked startled, thought for a moment and nodded. "Yes, but I wasn't the only one."

"Good answer. You've got the hang of it already. Give me the names of some of the others."

Again he hesitated, "Bob French, of course, but you know that, 'cos he's shacked up with Cheryl now."

"Go on."

"Gordon, the bloke she shacked up with." 

Suddenly he looked panicked. "God!" he swore. "You didn't bankrupt him?"

Mike smiled. He hadn't, but Dylan didn't need to know that. Dylan quailed, "There was David, and Graham. Those are the only ones I know of."

"Again a good answer," Mike smiled at him encouragingly. "Now Dylan," Mike's face dropped. "I'm very upset because the woman I love has dumped me."

"Cheryl?" he looked puzzled.

"Don't be stupid. I divorced that tart. I'm talking about Claire and I'm very angry. You know why? Because some people went to visit her when she was weak and in hospital, and poisoned her mind against me, and you dear Dylan were one of them. I'm miffed, Dylan, I want some answers."

"I don't know--"

"Careful now. You don't know the question yet," Mike paused. "Whom did you visit Claire with?"

He thought for a moment. 

"Tracy, it was. And I think Bob came along the second time. Oh, and Sharon."

"Good," Mike smiled encouragingly. "Now I know it's a while ago but what do you remember Tracy was saying to Claire?"

Now Dylan was beginning to sweat. "I remember that 'cos I thought it was unfair. There was something about you and Cheryl, yes, that's right, she said you and Cheryl were talking about getting together."

"What else?"

"Claire said that couldn't be true, because you and she were an item, something like that."

"And Tracy said?"

"I couldn't see where this was leading. Tracy said something about you only liking pretty women. Claire didn't like that. And yes! I said that if you had committed to her you would be loyal to her because that's the sort of person you are."

"And?"

"Well, Tracy agreed with me. That surprised me! But she went on to say something about loyalty not being enough, then she was back talking about how you hated ugliness, even your house is beautifully decorated and furnished, yes that was it. But she said I was right, and you would be loyal even if you found her face repulsive. I can't remember her exact words but that was the meaning. You would pity her. That's something she mentioned."

"How did Claire react?"

"Well, she went quiet and thoughtful then she said she was tired and would we go. So we went."

"What happened at the second meeting, the one Bob was at?"

"I can't remember," he paused and thought about it. "That's it! Claire was sad. She asked if Cheryl had been to see you and Tracy said she had and you looked as if you were getting together, but only if Claire would let you go. 

"Bob went on about how you needed pretty women, you'd had affairs while Cheryl and you were married; you had an open marriage or at least you both tolerated it. I remember that because it shocked me. I didn't believe that. I knew about Cheryl fucking around but I never suspected it of you.

"Yes. Now I remember. Tracy said that you would never leave Claire unless she pushed you, and Bob agreed. It would be for the best in view of her disfigurement. I can see Claire's face now, she was so upset. They were telling her it was best for you and for her. Cheryl was more your type."

He thought for a moment. "I think that's it."

"And you sat there and let it all pass?" Mike snarled. "You toe-rag. You knew I wasn't like that. Hell, I do that work at the care home; you knew that!"

He had the grace to look shamefaced. "I don't know Claire, Tracy seemed to think she was just after your money and an easy life. She used to go on and on about it when we were out together. Claire was just a housekeeper, not our class. Her children were already thugs. I thought they were doing you a favour."

Mike breathed deeply. 

"Anything else?" he growled.

"No, I don't think so. So what were you going to do?" Dylan asked.

"None of your business," Mike snarled.

"I mean about the loan?" He was almost whining.

"I've waited long enough," Mike said abruptly. "You have six months."

"OK."

They left Dylan. The woman Dylan was with regarded him with a certain amount of loathing. The visit had ruined his evening and his prospects with her.

They then visited their usual haunts hoping to find Tracy. She had a lot of questions to answer, but they didn't see her anywhere.

"OK," said Tom. "We go to her flat tomorrow. Can you make it about five, before she goes out?"

There was no one at home with Mike, so he agreed and they were to meet in a local pub, close to her place. Tom walked; Mike drove.

Tracy opened the door wearing a towel. Very fetching she looked too.

"Hi Dylan..." Then her face fell. "Oh, it's you."

"We need to talk to you," said Tom. "Are you going to invite us in or just stand there in that towel?"

She stood back to let them in, then disappeared for a few minutes and came down the stairs in a dressing gown. 

"I'm going out tonight," she said. "I haven't really got any time--"

"Tracy," Mike broke in. "Why have you destroyed my life? What did I ever do to you?"

Her head jerked up and she looked at him.

"What d'you mean? I've done nothing to you."

"A few weeks ago you turned the woman I love away from me. You visited her three times in hospital and worked on her to get her to dump me."

She looked puzzled. "But you didn't love her, she was disfigured. Anyway she was only after your money."

"Tracy," Mike said with some acidity. "Since when did you know so much about me and the woman I love that you can make such decisions?"

"You don't love her, you only feel you have a duty to her after her attack."

"Can you read my mind?" he asked angrily.

"I know you only really love Cheryl so you can't love that woman; anyway she's only a housekeeper."

"Love Cheryl?" he gasped. "Where the fuck did you get that idea? Don't you remember she walked out on me and divorced me?"

"Yes but you still loved her and wanted her back. You fucked me because you were lonely without her."

"Tracy, I fucked a different girl most weekends, because I was a free man again."

"Don't give me that, Mike, you've been seeing her about getting back together."

At this Tom interrupted our slanging match.

"Tracy?" he said.

"Yes?"

"Mike hasn't been seeing Cheryl. She went to see him twice. The first time was when Claire was there. Mike threw her out. The second time was after Claire left him. She asked for a second chance and Mike told her there was no chance, because he loved Claire."

"But Cheryl said--"

"Since when did you believe a word Cheryl said?" Mike almost shouted at her. "Tracy, you do know she slept with at least four men while she was married to me? One of them was Dylan. Did you know she left me a note saying I was boring her and she'd found someone better in every way: Gordon? That was the moment that she was never coming back. I wouldn't have her back if she was the last--"

"I don't believe you!"

"About what?"

"Dylan."

"Oh yes he did."

At this the doorbell went. Tom went and opened it. There was a muffled conversation and Dylan came into the room,

"Hi!" Dylan said, and then saw Mike. "Oh shit," he said.

"Dylan," Tracy said with a certain amount of menace, Mike thought, "Did you sleep with Cheryl before she got her divorce?"

Oh, the pleasure of it! Dylan was totally discomfited. He looked at Tracy. He looked at Mike. He knew he was trapped. There was no way out.

"She came on to me," he whined. "I mean she's hot as hell, and she was offering it on a plate."

"How long for?" Tracy was very quiet but her tone demanded honesty.

"About four months. Then she dumped me. Went on to Bob I think. She's always had a thing for Bob. She's back with him now, isn't she?"

"What?"

"You didn't know?" he laughed. "She's with Bob at the moment. He's moved in with her, when she's not shagging that Steven."

"Steven?" asked Tracy, becoming more and more confused.

Dylan laughed. "He's a photographer at her work. She really pulled the wool over your eyes, Trace. Bob knows she's shagging Steven and for all I know they have threesomes. Bob's after Claire, as well as his usual sluts. They all fuck around."

"But she said she was living alone waiting for Mike."

"Mike?" he was laughing even louder. "She went to see him and he threw her out, twice! Bob told me."

Tracy sat down heavily. Her robe fell open, and Mike immediately remembered how much fun they'd had on that one night stand. She did not notice; she was thinking hard.

"By the way," Mike cut in on her thoughts, "Claire has more intelligence in her little finger than you have in your whole body. She's courageous and intensively protective of her children. She would die for them, in fact she nearly did. She's loving and caring and thoughtful. In fact she's everything that that selfish bitch Cheryl is not! For your information Tracy, I love her with all my heart, and more's the pity, she loves me.

"And while I'm at it, she loved me from early on, just after Christmas. but she never once made a move, never once allowed it to show. I didn't know how much she loved me until just before she was attacked by that bastard husband of hers. You might ask yourself, Tracy. How did Gary Sonter find her? There was an injunction out preventing anyone revealing her whereabouts. I suspect it was Cheryl and I'm going to find out.

"But you!" he was warming up. "You destroyed my life and hers, and her children's. You know they now visit me at weekends, like a divorced husband? They love me and I love them. I hope you're happy with your meddling."

She looked dazed. She began muttering. "The bitch! The scheming lying bitch. Selfish cow! She couldn't have him. Jealous cunt! Split them up because she couldn't..." and she lapsed into silence. 

"Tracy!" said Tom sharply. She flinched.

"God, I've been so stupid," she said, looking apologetically at Mike.

"There may come a time when Mike here might need you to talk to Claire," Tom said quietly.

"Yes, of course I will. Anytime."

"You know Bob's been visiting Claire?" said Dylan.

"Bob? Visiting who?" asked Tom, now clearly worried.

"He's been visiting Claire."

"What?" Mike was astounded.

"He's going after Claire," Dylan said. "You know him. Big cock, lots of confidence." 

Mike didn't, but Tom nodded.

"Oh shit!" Tom muttered, looking worried at Dylan's comment that Bob was going after Claire.

"He sees her during the day. When the kids are at school," Dylan was saying.

Now Mike was seething with anger. So, was Claire sleeping with Bob? Another stupid woman entranced by his big cock? 

"I think Cheryl knows," Dylan volunteered, "but she doesn't seem to be bothered." 

"You mean she's living with him and knows?" said Tom, amazed, "and about his other regulars?"

"Yeah, whatever," Dylan said morosely. "What are you going to do?" he said to Mike.

"None of your business," Mike snapped.

"Oh hell!" Tracy muttered. "That's Cheryl again. I bet she's sending Bob to fuck Claire. She'll be coaching him, he's a bit up front for Claire." 

Then she looked up angrily. "That's why he suddenly latched on to us when we visited Claire, he had to come across as a compassionate friend."

Mike and Tom left with a great deal to think about.



Chapter Eleven

"I think Bob's next on the list," said Tom, as they drove away from Tracy's. "We've got to warn him off."

"Wait," Mike said. "If he's been visiting Claire at home, those next door neighbours will know, won't they?"

"What time is it?" Tom asked.

"Early enough to visit," Mike grinned. Then he had a thought. "Tom, we'll drive home, there's something I want to get. It's just a hunch."

He picked up a photo of Cheryl from when they were married. 

Fred and Lucy. Fred was crippled with arthritis and couldn't work but Lucy went out to work 'to make ends meet'. They were in their fifties.

"You're the man who saved her weren't you?" Lucy said with a smile after introductions were made.

Mike smiled, but Tom jumped in.

"There's a problem, Lucy. Claire was influenced to break up with Mike. We suspect foul play. Can you help us? You may have seen someone we suspect of turning her away from Mike."

"Well," said Lucy, "Fred is the one who will have seen things. He sits in the front bay most days and watches the world go by!"

"So," Mike began. "Has she had any visitors during the day since she came back? A man?"

"Oh, yes," said Fred. "There's one bloke. Quite well built, handsome, well dressed, goatee beard. Been quite a few times but never in the evenings. Must be his own boss. He's been twice in the past week. He stays about half an hour. She sees him out."

"Any kissing? Hugging?" Tom asked.

"Not really. She's quite, how to put it, distant?" Fred thought from a moment. "He kisses her, then he leaves but she seems a little stiff."

"Well, thanks for being so helpful," said Tom, rising from his seat.

"Fred," Mike asked. "Going further back, after Claire left Sonter, did anyone come to visit her husband? Other than friends I mean?"

He thought for a moment. 

"Well," he said. "He got drunk a lot, had women over for the night, loud music at all hours."

Apart from the night time parties?" Tom prompted him.

"There was that reporter."

"Man or woman?"

"Woman. Came here to the house looking for him. Came with a photographer the first time. I directed her next door. Good looking girl."

Mike got out the photo. "This her?"

"Yes, that's her. You know her?

"My ex-wife."

"Oh," Fred looked uncomfortable.

"It's no problem," Mike said. "She walked out on me five years ago."

"Well," Fred said, "she came over for a couple of weeks and stayed about an hour each time. I thought she might be getting his story. You know, 'abandoned by my family'. 

"The photographer didn't come after the first time. Anyway she stopped coming and a week later all that trouble erupted."

Mike smiled. "Thanks Fred, Lucy. That's been a great help. Can I ask you not to tell Claire we've been?"

"Fine with us," said Lucy. "Will you be getting together with her again?"

"I don't know; I hope so." 

They asked for, and he gave them, his phone number and that of his mobile.

They drove back to Mike's place in silence. This time they drank Mike's whisky.

There was little to say.

"Claire's got to know," said Tom.

"Yes," Mike replied. "The problem is getting her to believe it all."

"Bob's got to be stopped," Tom said next.

"Yes, as soon as possible."

"I'll get some of our mates to keep an eye open for him," said Tom.

"Thanks," said Mike, then a thought came to him. "If Cheryl was talking to Gary, what are the odds she told him where Claire was?"

"If that's the case, she's guilty of conspiracy. At the least breaking the injunction," said Tom. "Contempt of court."

"More than that. She's responsible for Claire's injuries."

"And yours. She has to be punished."

"One way or another."

More whisky.

Tom stayed over.

----- 

Tom knew a guy called Geoff who worked at the Echo, though Mike had never met him. 

Apparently Tom and Geoff met for lunches or evening drinks mid-week, whereas Mike was strictly a weekend man since he usually had work to do in the evenings. It was Monday night when Tom rang to ask if Mike could spare a couple of hours on Tuesday evening to meet the man.

It was a fruitful meeting and very convivial. Apparently Geoff had no time for Cheryl, who, he cheerfully told them, seemed to have slept with every available male in the newspaper office. She wasn't Geoff's type, mainly because he was gay, but she seemed to have settled with Steven, who he described as a 'randy bugger'.

After a few drinks, when he was feeling really cheerful, they asked him about Cheryl and the Gary Sonter case. Oh yes, she was involved with that in some way, though he didn't think she actually interviewed anyone involved. How did he know? She had been asking about the Christmas story when Gary Sonter's wife disappeared before the recent incident. In fact by the time Claire was attacked Cheryl didn't seem all that interested any more. 

He remembered she got Sonter's address. Something about a follow-up story on the bereaved husband who'd lost his whole family. Did she know about the injunction? Oh, yes, that was announced to everyone. Everyone was told how serious breaking the injunction would be, personally for the reporter concerned, and for the paper.

So on Wednesday night Mike was looking forward, if that's the right word, to catching up on the work he'd missed on the Tuesday night. He was eating his late dinner having got in after extra work at the office, when the phone rang. It was Tom.

"Mike!" he shouted down the phone. "Can you get to 'The Hole' fairly quickly? Bob has taken Claire there for drinks and dancing. If he couldn't get at her during the day, I think he's making a play tonight. Someone must be looking after the kids."

"OK," Mike said, holding the receiver away from his ear. "You going as well?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world!" he laughed. "I'll divert to Tracy's and pick her up. This is her chance to put things right."

"See you there," Mike said, and they disconnected.

---- 

Mike stood just inside the entrance. The club was full, but he spotted them at a table for four in a secluded corner. They were sitting at two adjacent sides of the table facing the dance floor. 


Not Just for Christmas Ch. 10-13



He watched them talking. He watched Bob's hand cover hers on the table, and saw she did not pull hers away. He watched as Bob put his hand on her knee, and saw her gently take it off and smile at him. 

Bob seemed to be apologising for she laughed. Bob put it back and she left it there. He leant over to her and kissed her. Mike couldn't see if she kissed him back but her hands stayed on the table.

Mike always prided himself on his logical approach to life. He prided himself on his ability to subordinate his emotions to the logic of any situation. Not any more it seemed. Logically Claire had decided to break relationship with him. It was her right. He might find her reasoning suspect, nay ridiculous, but as a free individual she had a perfect right to do that. Any resentment at her being entertained by another man should have been suppressed. But it wasn't. No.

At that kiss Mike was gripped by deep anger. It was rage, a feeling of deep betrayal. He had to keep telling himself to calm down or he would have lost it and started a fight. His ire was directed solely at her; she, the one who had assured him of her love during the previous six months; she, who had given herself to him body and soul, and to whom he had pledged his love. 

Here she was paddling palms with one of the worst wastrels anyone knew. Not just a wastrel but a parasite who begged money off the women he bedded. All he had to offer was a large penis, and they all fell over themselves to sample it, and here was Claire doing the same. 

Mike saw them in his mind's eye at her house in her bed. He could imagine her feelings as his huge member stretched her, her exclamations that she had never felt so good. Mike was forgotten. Her lies about letting him go because she loved him were made all the more disgusting. In spite of these thoughts he did manage to keep his calm, but only just.

Then she looked up and saw him. Mike was intrigued by her expression as she realised he was there staring at her. She took Bob's hand off her knee. He could have sworn she looked guilty then annoyed. 

She said something to Bob who turned and saw Mike. He looked worried. It was quite gratifying for Mike really. He made his way to their table. His face must have shown his true feelings, for he could have sworn there was fear on their faces. Perhaps worried that he would be violent or cause a scene?

He reached the table and stood over them. He ignored Claire for the moment.

"Hello Bob," he said smiling, but his stare was cold. "Out with your latest conquest? Another notch on the bedpost?"

"Look Mike," he began. "Don't make trouble. She's finished with you. She's with me now."

Claire made a movement at this but Mike was not really paying attention.

"I can see that, arse-hole," he said, his smile gone. "Have you told her about Adrienne, and Cloë, and Leah wasn't it, you know, the three married women you're shagging during the day while their husbands are at work? I noticed your affair with Claire here has been conducted during the day as well, I suppose so the kids don't find out?"

"How d'you know?" he wondered.

"Neighbours Bob, neighbours," Mike said. "You didn't have to be so careful with her, though, did you? No husband to take offence? And what about Cheryl, does she know you're screwing behind her back, not that she needs to be offended with what she gets up to."

"Cheryl?" he blustered, "I don't know what you mean."

"My ex-wife, arse-hole," he explained doggedly. "You know, the woman you're living with. So you're out clubbing with the latest woman to be intrigued by your big cock? Is she paying? Or is Cheryl funding this little outing? You've got no cash have you? You want to tell Claire about that, she may not want to be the latest addition to your harem!"

Now he turned to Claire. "So it was all a front. All those protestations of love, you were dumping me because you loved me? That's a laugh! It was really because you wanted some different cocks, and he's got a nice big one. 

"Was it Tracy that told you he was hung? So the woman I thought had high ideals turns out to be a cock slut! I loved you so much, Claire, I worshipped you. I loved you when I first met you with all those bruises, I loved you when Gary had slashed your face and body, your appearance made no impression on that love. 

"You think I'm so shallow that my feelings for you depend of a pretty face? Because that's what you told me. I would only stay out of a sense of duty, wasn't it? Loyalty? You stupid cow, loyalty can come out of love, a side effect. 

"And these ideas were reinforced by three friends of Cheryl. Cheryl Claire, who had a grudge against you and your family! Oh, by the way, you know she visited Gary in the fortnight before he attacked you? After he tried to murder you she stopped visiting him. Did you never wonder who told Gary where you were?"

"But--" She tried to interrupt but Mike was on a roll.

"Well, when you didn't die, she turned you off me through her friends, including this one here. Did you never wonder why he suddenly turned up at your bedside? And now Cheryl's succeeded in putting me off you. Have a good life, Claire, the world is full of big cocks. Plenty to choose from."

He turned and left. Claire had not a chance to say anything, but he thought he heard her call him above the noise of the music. As he reached the door, he literally bumped into Tom and Tracy.

"Where are they?" Tom asked, scanning the room and finding his own answer. "Oh, they appear to be fighting. Time for Tracy and I to chat with them, eh?"

Then he looked at Mike's face and realisation dawned. "You've seen them, haven't you?"

"Yes," he said. "I've finished with that bitch. She can screw whoever she likes. Finished!" 

He brushed past Tom and left. He got in the car and was about to drive away, when he decided to take some deep breaths. Just as well, it would have been foolish to drive out in his frame of mind. As he put the car in gear, he saw Claire, Tom and Tracy coming out of the club. Claire made as if to run towards his car, but he drove out and away.

It felt like a long drive to the haven that was his empty desolate house. He slumped into a chair and closed his eyes. 

His thoughts went something like this: Why do I do it? Why get involved with people? I didn't look for her love, in fact I assumed she didn't love me. Then the children and my friends turned my mind to her and I fell. And for what? Now look at me. Angry. Lonely. Jealous. Resentful. And scarred for life! 

He reached for the bottle of red wine, then put it down. Then picked it up again and poured a large glass. He lifted the glass to his lips and the doorbell rang. He cursed long and volubly: he'd left the gates open. He wandered to the door. It was Tom.

He stood back to let him in but Tom stood on the step. Mike cocked an eyebrow questioningly.

"Mike, I've got Claire in the car. She's very, very upset. Tracy is trying to comfort her but she's verging on the hysterical. Will you talk to her?"

"Sorry, Tom," he snapped. "I talked to the tart in the club. The truth hurts. She'll get over it and find another cock to enjoy."

"Come on, Mike! That's unworthy of you!"

"Why Tom, why do I have to be the worthy one? Have I fucked anyone since Claire dumped me? There you see, very worthy. But that slut in the car? Why should I care about her? Tell her to go home and look after her children."

"Mike!" he shouted angrily. Mike took a step back. He didn't remember Tom ever doing that before in all their years together. He stopped his tirade.

"Mike," he said again. "She couldn't believe what you'd said. All that info you gave her was a complete surprise. Bob, of course denied everything until Tracy confronted him. It didn't take long for Claire to realise she's made a dreadful mistake finishing with you."

"Cheryl realised that as well and I sent her packing too. These women are all alike. You've got it right Tom, fuck 'em and leave 'em."

"You know as well as I do that Claire is a different matter, you know deep down there's not a selfish bone in her body." Tom paused to let that sink in, which it did. Coming from Tom, it had weight.

Tom was right and Mike's brain knew it, but all his rampant emotions denied it.

He slumped. Tom turned, thinking he'd won the argument, what there was of it. Mike stopped him with his hand.

"Tom," Mike said humbly, "you're a good friend. Look at me. The state I'm in. This isn't the time to talk to Claire. Why don't you and Tracy take her home and spend an hour or so with her. 

"Tell her to come back tomorrow when the children are in school. After a night's sleep, I'll be better able to stop my temper getting the better of me. 

"But Tom, after what I saw tonight, and after her sessions with Bob at her house -- you know I've never been invited in there? -- I don't know if there's any point. Don't give her false hopes. She's betrayed me badly."

"OK," he said, seeing the sense of it, "but think on this. If you don't love her to bits, why are you so wound up? Good night!" 

He turned and went back to the car. He drove off and Mike could see Claire's face looking back. It reminded him of the children's faces when they had to leave. He started to get uptight again. 

A few minutes later his mobile phone alerted him to a text. It read, Claire coming after kids 2 school. It was from Tom's phone.

What Mike perhaps should have done was to sit down with a leisurely glass of wine, and think things through. What he did was to slug back two more glasses of the stuff and stagger off to bed.

----- 

Some people wake and immediately feel a deep sense of dread at the coming day. That was something foreign to Mike; he always woke up ready to enjoy whatever the day would throw at him. It came from running his own business and generally being a success in it. 

However, on that Thursday morning he felt that dread. He didn't want to face this day. He did not feel ill, or tired, or even hung over. He just didn't think he could face a showdown with Claire.

However, he did what everyone else does. He dragged himself out of bed and showered, shaved, dressed and had breakfast, and he did feel better then. It was 8.30am. Rosemary would be in. He phoned to say he would be in late, probably after lunch.

"I hear you had some angry words with Claire last night," she said in answer. "Are you going to see her this morning?"

Whence did the woman get her information? Was she part of a spy network? Mike said as much.

"Oh. That's easy," she laughed. "Tom rang to see if you were in. He told me."

"Thanks Tom," Mike said, provoking another loud laugh from Rosemary. "Yes I am awaiting her arrival. Am I right, I don't have any urgent appointments today, do I?"

He was assured that his day could be made completely flexible. There were some internal meetings but they could wait.

He settled down to some research on his computer, but soon realised that the exercise was fruitless. He was preoccupied with Claire's impending visit.

He reviewed their relationship since Gary's attack. Yes, she was worried about her attractiveness before the three Job's comforters arrived. Yes, she was upset that he was not more loving and took that to mean he was repulsed by her appearance. 

She had said nothing to him about her worries. He thought he'd scotched that idea when she told him it was over, he'd been up to his eyes with practicalities, and he had always kissed her lips and cheek, the uninjured one, when arriving and leaving, and he did tell her he loved her: " 'Bye, love you."

No, they didn't talk about their relationship. Most of the time he had one or more of the children with him. He was in constant pain from his own wounds. He was running round like a headless chicken, as well as trying to keep the business on course. Perhaps he should have talked more. On the other hand she could have asked if things were still as they were between them. She didn't.

He was also unaware at the time of the visits of Cheryl's coterie, and she said nothing to check with him if they were right. Misunderstanding? Yes. Avoidable? Yes.

But her reaction was so extreme. No contact at all. No further meetings, never answering the phone or his emails. Conversations such as they were, through Siobhán. That was the mysterious part. Why such a drastic cut off? 

Then this series of meetings with Bob. Why did she look guilty at being at that club with him? Why was she allowing some liberties from him, and being so gentle rebuffing others, as if ashamed of showing the world she had a relationship with him?

He decided to note down these questions for when she came. As he did so, the resentment surfaced. He'd done everything he could for her, and she shut him down quite violently. Something was going on and he didn't like it. 

Perhaps her love was really just gratitude after all, and now Gary was out of the way, this was a convenient way to sever relations and return to her previous life. She didn't love Mike in that unconditional way a permanent relationship should. It wasn't duty on his part she was concerned about, it was duty to him on her part that she was escaping. It would explain her going out with someone else so soon after ditching Mike. 

She must now feel free, and she was hoping Mike and she could drift apart so she could face him without guilt, having made a relationship with someone else. She didn't want to seem ungrateful, that's what it was. He wondered were all women so devious?

Well, his reaction last night must have cemented the idea that he was not the right man for her. He felt mildly embarrassed that he'd let his temper get away from him. He'd said things, used words he didn't really believe and weren't fair and once again he had not given her a chance to reply. Well, she would get that chance today.

He made some coffee, noticing that it was nearly eleven. If she'd dropped the children off at school she should have been with him by 9.30 at the latest. Where was she? By lunchtime he was very annoyed. He had wasted a morning when he could have been working. So now he knew it really was over. No further discussion was necessary. They were finished. 

When he arrived at work, Rosemary looked up expectantly, read his face and looked compassionate. He sat down and collected the first file from his in-tray.

"Mike?" she ventured.

He looked at her.

"Not successful, then?"

"She didn't show. I'm finally finished with her. I've been insulted once too often. I would have thought a phone call or a text to say she was not coming was the minimum I could expect. She wanted to see me; I wasted a morning waiting for her."

"Shame," was all she said, and got on with her work. She always knew when not to speak, he thought.

He wondered how he could get most things to do with his business right, but his relationships so wrong. He shrugged and set to work. 

He was not really very successful, his mind turning over the events and non-events of the previous day and that day. By four o'clock Rosemary broke the silence she had preserved all afternoon.

"Mike," she said gently. "Go home. Get some sleep."

He stood and was leaving the office when the phone rang.

She answered it. 

"Mike, it's Siobhán." 

He returned and took the phone.

"Hello, darling," he began. He got no further.

"Daddy, something's wrong with Mum," she babbled. "She's not collected Gin and Ryan. She's just sitting here. She won't talk to me."

Fear gripped him. "OK, Siobhán." he said quickly, "I'll pick the children up and bring them home. I'll be as quick as I can. Make some tea, and see if she'll drink it."

The poor girl was weeping. 

"OK Dad," she sobbed.

"I'll be there soon, love," he added and disconnected.

"Got to go, Rosemary," he said, collecting his stuff. "I've got to go and get the children. Claire's ill."

As he left the phone rang again. He halted briefly to hear Rosemary assure the school he was on his way.

He did not break the speed limit more than he usually did, picked up the children who were completely unconcerned that Claire had not turned up. They were delighted when he came through the front door of the school, running up for a hug.

On the way, he explained that their mother was not very well, so they needed to be quiet and leave her alone until he'd had a chance to find out what was wrong. They accepted it all with the flexibility and trust of the young.

He had no key, but Siobhán let them in. She had calmed somewhat or was putting on a brave face for the two younger ones. She led Mike to the living room. There on the sofa sat Claire. She was lying back in it, quite still, and had her eyes closed. He sat down beside her.

"Claire?" he said but there was no reaction. Her hands were clasped together on her lap, and he touched them saying again, "Claire?" 

She sat up, and her eyes opened but they stared straight ahead. She did not react beyond that. The children stood at the door, wide-eyed and frightened.

He got up and went to them. 

"Siobhán darling," he said, "where can we go?"

"Let's go to the morning room," she said.

Siobhán led the way and they entered a room which was quite small. There was room for a table in the middle, four chairs, and one smallish sideboard. Either Gary or Claire liked earth colours, for the walls and ceiling were cream, green or brown, though the tones were fitting well together. 

"Let's all sit down," he said, and they did.

"What's the matter with Mummy?" asked Ryan looking distressed.

"I've seen this before," Mike told them, "and she will get better. How can I explain? Have you ever had flu?"

They nodded solemnly.

"What happens?" he asked.

"You feel shivery and hot and cold and you ache," volunteered Ginny.

"And you feel weak and you have to go to bed," said Siobhán.

"Right," he said. "Well, that's a physical illness. When that happens, all the things you've said is your body making you rest until you're better. Your Mum has an illness in her head, her mind. Her mind has shut down so she can be healed. Her body's healed after the attack, but her mind hasn't got over it. Understand?"

They nodded.

"So she needs looking after, just like someone with flu. Shall I stay and help?"

Again they nodded. At the Home, he had helped people with dissociated conditions. He assumed that this was due to the aftermath of her attack, but she would need to see a doctor.

"OK, children," he spoke to the two younger ones. "You go into the living room and give Mum a hug and say hello. Don't get upset if she doesn't notice. It will register somewhere in her mind. You can hold her hand and tell her about your day. It will help her to get better."

He watched as they tentatively sat down one on each side of her. She did move, as if noticing them, but said nothing.

Practical matters took precedence. With help from Siobhán, he cooked poached eggs, chips and peas for their evening meal. Once they had eaten, he looked into the freezer and found some chicken stock. The children dispersed to homework and games, while Siobhán went and sat with her mother.

"You can talk to her," he told her. "Tell her about your day. Tell me if she reacts."

He chopped an array of vegetables and defrosted the stock. He found a pressure cooker and made a vegetable soup, which he then pureed. It took some time, since he had to find everything he needed. He brought the soup, suitably cooled, to Claire. 

"She moved a little, but she's not really with me," said Siobhán. "How will you get her to eat?"

"We'll see," he said. 

He sat down next to her and filled the spoon, lifting it under her nose so the aroma would reach her. Then put the spoon to her lips. She opened obligingly and took the soup. From there it was easy.




Not Just for Christmas Ch. 10-13



"Want to try?" he asked Siobhán, and she nodded with a smile. She took the spoon and bowl and fed her mother. When the bowl was empty, he went and filled it again. Then the procedure was repeated.

"Put the TV on," he said, after the second bowl was consumed. "Anything to stimulate her." 

He sat and held her hand, massaging it gently. By nine her eyelids were dropping. He remembered it was past time for the younger ones to get ready for bed. Siobhán came and sat with Claire while he followed them up. 

They took care of themselves, though he checked they had washed and had cleaned their teeth. Then they clamoured for a story read in parts, so they read one together. It was good to hear some giggling from them after the shock they'd got from seeing their mother. 

He brought them down to kiss Claire goodnight, and noticed more of a reaction. She smiled. However, he had to sit with Ryan until he slept: the boy was more upset than the others.

"Will you be here in the morning?" Ryan had asked and he reassured him that he would be, and the child snuggled down.

He cleared the kitchen, and Siobhán got out the breakfast things before hugging him and, after doing the same to Claire, went off to do some homework.

He went upstairs to Claire's bedroom and scouted round for her night attire. There was nothing in or on the bed. Siobhán heard him and came in.

"Mum usually sleeps in a pair of knickers," she said, "but I think there's a nightshirt in this drawer. Ah, yes!" She pulled a semi transparent, rather flimsy garment out. It would have to do. 

"Call me if you need help with Mum," she said as she left the room.

He went down and turned off the TV, did the rounds of the doors and windows as best he could, and then went back to Claire.

"Come on Claire," he said, taking her hands and pulling gently.

She stirred as if waking, and stood. He walked backwards holding her hands, and she followed though her eyes did not look as if they were seeing anything. They ascended the stairs together and he led her into the bedroom.

"Time to get ready for bed, Hen," he said, and sat her down. She was wearing a tee shirt and skirt, and he easily pulled the shirt over her head and reached behind her and unclasped her bra. Her breasts were as beautifully shaped as they were when he had last seen them, though the scars showed how many times Gary had jabbed at her chest and stomach. 

However he had no time to stand in rapt admiration, or even horror at the injuries. He put on the nightshirt, and put her arms through the holes. He stood her up and unfastened and unzipped the skirt, pulling it down her legs and after it her tights. He left her knickers on. 

All this happened in silence and she allowed it all as a young child would, giving the minimum of help. Next he took her hands and walked her to the bathroom. There would be no washing, but she needed to use the toilet before bed. He walked her to the bowl, reached under her nightie and pulled down her briefs to her knees, before hitching the nightie up and sitting her down.

She obligingly performed, and he took a piece of tissue, putting it in her right hand. She wiped herself automatically and having completed that, stood up by herself. He pulled up her panties, took one hand and they walked back to the bedroom. He pulled back the duvet and she sat down and then lay down.

"Mike?" The voice was tired and emotionless but he was shocked by its suddenness. "What are you doing here?"

The question was not in the least defensive; it was merely a quest for understanding. A wave of relief swept over him: she was recovering. 

"To look after you," was all he said as he pulled the duvet over her and stroked her hair. "Goodnight." 

She made a little contented noise and was asleep immediately. Now he had to find somewhere to sleep. It was a three bedroom house, and each room was occupied. So it was the sofa for him. Luckily that September night was very mild; it rained most of the night. He remembered he had a coat in the car and wore it. It was not comfortable but he managed to drop off after a good deal of tossing and turning. 

Needless to say, he woke up very early, about six. There was no point in lying there, it was not at all comfortable. So he got up and washed, feeling filthy in yesterday's clothes. No shaving either so he looked really rough. He knew the children were to be woken at about seven from their life at his house, so he made tea and took some to Siobhán's room, where he woke her.

She opened her eyes in surprise, then she understood it was he, and smiled broadly. Then she realised why he was there and her face clouded. 

"Mum's asleep," he said to ease her mind. "She spoke to me last night. I think we'll let her sleep."

He woke the younger children and left them to dress. He knew he could trust them to wash and brush their teeth. He warned them to be quiet to let their mother sleep. There was cereal and he made some toast to give them a little extra. When Siobhán came down, he sent her next door to ask Lucy to sit with Claire until he returned from taking the younger children to school. Siobhán would leave for school later, after he had gone but before he returned.

After dropping the children off, he called at the office, went home and changed, showered and shaved, and feeling better, returned to the house. Claire was still asleep. He thanked Lucy and settled in a bedroom chair to wait for her to wake.

At eleven he went downstairs and made some tea, bringing up two mugs, he sat on the bed and gently stroked her cheek. She gradually came to. Her eyes opened. She looked at him for a long while as if trying to make sense.

"Mike?" She asked and shut her eyes.

"Yes," he said quietly. "It's me."

"Er, why?" she looked puzzled, and her eyes, opening, searched his face. Once again she shut them.

"You've been taken ill," he said. "Do you remember anything about yesterday?"

She was quiet for a while, her brow furrowed. "Did I take the children to school?"

"Yes, you did."

"I don't remember anything else."

"No, you had a little breakdown. You left us for a while."

"The children?" she started up, only to fall back again.

"Siobhán found you at home. She phoned me. I got them and brought them home. Made the evening meal, and some soup for you. Siobhán fed you. I put you to bed. I took the children to school this morning, and I'll collect them this afternoon. OK?"

She nodded and promptly fell asleep again, her tea not drunk. He took it away.

An hour later he made beans on toast and yet another mug of tea, and again awoke her.

"Come on," he said as she opened her eyes. "Time for lunch. Sit up."

She did so and took the tray. He was gratified that she ate the whole meal and drank the tea. 

"More?" he asked.

"Tea?" she said, and he brought it to her, to find her in tears.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"It's you," she said. "Why are you doing all this for me, after..." she lapsed into silence.

"Not now," he said gently. "You had a bad reaction to all that's happened. I don't want a repeat of that. Just accept it that I'm here, and I'm here to help you get better and to look after the children."

"But--"

"No, Claire." He was firm. "Not now. Just relax. I'm not going anywhere until you're well enough to fend for yourself. You need rest and peace. When you're better, we can talk if you want to. Can I get you anything else?"

She shook her head, smiling bleakly through her tears. He offered a tissue and she took it gratefully and wiped her cheeks. He smiled and went downstairs to eat his own rather over-cooled lunch. 

There was a knock at the front door. He opened the door. There stood Bob.

"Oh," Bob said. "What are you doing here?"

"I might ask the same of you," Mike answered.

"I've come to see Claire. Let me in."

"Sorry Bob," Mike said quietly. "She's not at all well and won't be seeing visitors for a while."

"Rubbish!" he blustered. "I came round yesterday and she was out. Now let me in to see my woman."

"Yesterday," Mike said, exuding patience, "she was at home and too ill to move. As to whether she's 'your woman', I would have to ask her about that."

"Listen you," he began to raise his voice. "We've been having an affair for weeks. She loves me and I demand to see her."

"I note that you say she loves you," Mike said grimly. "I notice also that you say nothing about loving her. If you loved her you would go away and come back on Monday, when she should be feeling better, and you wouldn't be shouting as you are now. She needs her sleep."

"I don't believe you," his voice was more strident. "Let me see her, she'll tell you how much she needs me."

"Listen, toe-rag," Mike said losing patience. "Don't you think she'd have heard you by now if she was awake? If she weren't so ill, she'd be down here to hug and kiss you, if what you say is true. Personally I couldn't care less whether you believe me or not. Until Claire says so you have no right to enter this house."

"Neither have you!" he smiled at that, and at least he was quieter.

"Well, Bob," Mike said. "Since I am the children's legal guardian it is my duty to care for them while Claire is unwell. Why don't you do as I ask and come back on Monday? You're not getting in now."

He stopped. He looked uncertain. He muttered something and walked away. Mike shut the door.

When Mike returned upstairs she was again asleep. He sat on the hard bedside chair and looked at her. Her face was peaceful and relaxed. The scar was still quite livid, and the lips had dropped a little at that side, but for all that she was beautiful to his eyes, if no longer perfectly pretty. 

Once again he thought back over the past weeks. He could see why she found her disfigurement difficult to bear, and understood now the part played knowingly and unknowingly by the various people who visited her. He still wondered in view of her relationship with Bob whether it was love that prompted her to sever relations with him, or the quest for a more varied sex-life. 

"If you don't love her to bits, why are you so wound up about her?" Tom had said that night. Hmm, food for thought.





Chapter Twelve

Mike woke her mid-afternoon as he was leaving to pick up the children. She told him where the house keys were, and he took them with him, though he assumed Siobhán would be in before he got back.

Claire had come downstairs when he returned and Siobhán was at home, sitting with her. The two children ran to her for hugs and she talked with them about their day, though she still sounded weak. In the meantime he prepared dinner. Claire came to the table and ate with them, crowded round the table, though she was already showing signs of tiredness. In spite of that she watched TV, the children having gone off to their rooms. He washed up and cleaned the kitchen; being Friday there was no need to set out breakfast for the next day. 

Then he sat with Claire and tried to seem interested in the TV programme. She was obviously too tired to talk, so he exercised patience. The time would come the next day, Saturday.

By ten, it was clear that Claire was ready for bed. 

"Time for bed," she said. 

She stood and began to make her way to the stairs. Then she stopped, "Mike, where did you sleep last night?"

"On the sofa," he replied, half expecting an invitation to share her bed.

"Oh, it's so uncomfortable," she said. "Look, I'm feeling much better. Why don't you go home and sleep in your bed?"

"OK," he said with a certain feeling of disappointment, "I'll be back early tomorrow before the children are up."

"There's no need to come back," she said. "I feel much better. I can cope."

He stood up and walked to the front door. 

"I see," he said irritably. "I'm no longer of any use, so I'm better out of your way. Back to where we were, no contact. Wednesday night you were desperate to talk. Not any more it seems. By the way, your boyfriend Bob was here while you were asleep. The one you've been having the affair with, he tells me. You'll need me out of the way, won't you?" 

At that he stalked out. He heard her behind him.

"Mike, please," she cried. "Don't--"

But he was already outside and getting into the car. He was half way home when his mobile rang. He let it ring as he was driving. It rang twice more before he got home. Once indoors he pressed voicemail. The first call was from Claire she was crying.

"Mike," she cried. "I didn't mean it like that. I don't want you to keep away. I do want to talk. Please come back tomorrow."

The next was from Siobhán. "Dad, why are you being so horrid to Mum? I've put her to bed. She's very upset. She was only trying to get you to rest. Ring or come round tomorrow."

The third was again from Claire, but she said nothing, just hung up.

Damn! he thought. I over-reacted again. What's wrong with me? 

He dialled Claire's landline. Siobhán answered.

"Siobhán," he said quickly, "Is Mum all right? She's not relapsed?"

"No," she replied angrily. "No thanks to you!"

"Enough of that, Siobhán!" he snapped. "Your mother insulted me. If she's still awake tell her I'll be round tomorrow. I've had enough of being messed around. Tell her that as well. Good night!" 

He disconnected.

He got out the whisky, an Islay Malt - he needed the strong peaty flavour to batter him into a better frame of mind. By the time he'd finished he had been battered rather into numbness, and staggered off to his bed. As he sank into its softness he was grateful that Claire had sent him home. The gratitude did not last long: he was asleep in seconds.

He woke late. Yes, he had a headache, yes, he felt nauseous. Consequences are a bitch! No one to blame but himself. How much louder the phone is at such times! He groaned and lifted the receiver.

"Mike?" said Claire.

"Hello," he said.

"Are you all right? You sound hoarse."

"I've just woken up," he said, somewhat lacking in enthusiasm.

"Mike," she said and she sounded worried, "It's Saturday--"

"Yes, I know."

"No listen, I'd forgotten. The children are at home."

"So you want to put off our talk yet again?" he said, his anger rising despite the fact he felt that the last thing he wanted to do was talk to anyone at that moment.

"No," she said. She was getting testy. "This house is so small there's nowhere quiet here; could I bring them over to you?"

"Are you well enough to drive?" he asked, suddenly worried. 

"Yes. All that sleeping seems to have helped. How about this afternoon, about three?"

He calculated that it gave him three hours to sober up. 

"OK."

They arrived, and the children had clearly been told to make themselves scarce. This was easy for them, since they still had plenty of their own things in the house to keep them occupied. He led Claire to the study, where they sat in two leather armchairs with a coffee table in between them.

"Tea?" he asked.

"No thanks, Mike," she said seriously. "Let's not delay any further."

"OK," he said. "Can I start by apologising for some of the things I said to you on Wednesday night? You finished with me and had every right to sleep with Bob. It is hard for me to see it, knowing what sort of a man he is, but you are not in any way responsible to me."

"But I don't understand? Sleep with Bob?"

"Don't play games, Claire," he said trying to control his rising ire, "Dylan knows you've been having sex with him. When Bob came to the house, he told me you'd been sleeping with him during the day."

She bridled at that, and he could see her anger starting to rise in her turn, "I don't care what anyone says, I've never had sex with that man."

"So what's all this kissing fondly at the front door when he's been leaving after your sessions with him? You were seen."

She looked puzzled. "Have you been spying on me? God, how low can you get!"

"I've more important things to do during the day, I run a business," he snapped. "I'm starting to see your true opinion of me. I'm the low life you had to put up with all those months and had to show gratitude to. I bet you were glad to get the opportunity to rid yourself of me. And you did that all right. You cut me right out of your life, No opportunity for me to talk to you. 

"I left a message on your answer phone congratulating you on your Decree Absolute, but you wouldn't answer me, would you? I sent you emails telling you how much I missed you and loved you. I'll bet you junked them without reading them. Even the letter I sent you detailing how much I loved you and setting out what I'd do for you even though you were dumping me, you didn't dignify with an answer. 

"Anyone would think I was the one who'd nearly killed you. You certainly showed all the hatred for me that you could. Then, when I do see you for the first time, you're with Bob. Why should I believe you over him?"

He sat back after his tirade. She looked shocked.

"I didn't realise," she stammered.

"You've no idea how much your hatred of me destroyed me. You wouldn't let me talk to you."

"I never hated you!" her eyes flashed; her voice was raised. "I did it for your own good!"

"No," he retorted, "that can't be true. To say that insults me even more deeply. How dare you be so patronising? As if I were a small child! 

"How could you think I am so shallow that all I care about is your appearance? You said I would only stay with you out of loyalty. What of your loyalty? Given the choice of believing me, or three people you didn't know, you chose them! It wasn't even a proper choice, I got no chance to plead my case."

"I didn't know they were setting me up!" she cried. She was becoming distressed.

"You didn't even give me a chance to prove them wrong, and I could have proved them wrong." He too was getting out of control.

"You could?" she was startled. "How?"

"Where did I go in the evenings while you were living here, twice a week?"

"You went out visiting friends."

"True," he replied. "You never asked who my friends were."

He got up and went to his photo cupboard, and extracted an album. He went round to her chair and sat on the arm.

"Here. These are my friends. Some have died." 

He showed her a group photo taken the previous autumn. "These are some people with severe mental or physical disabilities. They are my friends. I visit them every week if I can."

He showed her one photo of Peter. He had incurable cancer as well as being paraplegic. The photo was taken two days before he died and showed how emaciated he was. He had been moved to a hospice and his family took the photo of Peter and Mike. Mike was holding him, and Peter was smiling up at him. He explained it.

"So I can't bear to see people with disabilities? I can't deal with disfigurement? I can't love you as you are? I love these people and they love me!"

Claire sat perfectly still. She turned the pages. When she had seen it all, many photos of Mike with friends who in the eyes of the world were ugly or even repulsive, as well as others who looked normal but had severely reduced mental ages, she closed the book. Mike moved back to his chair.

"Mike, I'm very sorry," she said quietly. "Looking back, I don't understand why I did it, why I was so eager to go along with what they said. I felt so ugly and they just harped on about how you couldn't stand ugliness in any form. Then Tracy and Bob both said you were practically back with Cheryl."

"But you didn't ask me!" he pointed out in exasperation. "You obviously thought I would lie to you. You see how low your opinion of my character is?"

"But it isn't! It isn't!" she cried. "I loved you, I wanted you to be happy. I didn't think you could be happy with me. You deserved better than me. Please believe me Mike!"

"You don't understand do you?" he said. "It's not a question of what I deserve, it's a question of how much you think I love you, or don't. I protested my love over and over, and you ignored me. You shut me out, Claire."




Not Just for Christmas Ch. 10-13



"And when I was ill on Thursday you came running!" she said reflectively. "You slept on the sofa. Why not in my bed with me?"

"You are with Bob," he said. "I have no right to share your bed."

"How can I convince you I've never slept with Bob?" She was exasperated. "He came round, he didn't try anything. I know now he was feeding me a line. But every time he came round he just talked, said how much he liked me, how little appearances mattered. After a few visits he asked to kiss me good-bye and I let him. He never made a move on me until we were at the club."

"And you let him then?"

"Yes," she said resignedly, "but I would never have let him have me. You don't believe me, but I'll say it anyway, it's you I love. No one else. God! D'you think I'd be interested in dating men I don't really know after Gary? I love you because you are the best man I've ever met. 

"Mike, I was misled. I was lied to. Please don't punish me for loving you. I was misguided. I'm sorry." 

She stopped talking and sat still. She looked lost and forlorn. Then she suddenly sat forward.

"I'll prove to you that Bob never got anywhere." She became animated. "Be at the house on Monday when he comes. Hide. I'll get him to admit the truth. I need you there anyway, I don't know how he'll react to me dumping him."

"You don't need to prove it," he said. "I believe you, but I'll be there if you need me."

He paused, and then it hit him, the reason he was so puzzled, why he was puzzled even though everything else made sense. Something was wrong.

"What I can't understand is why you cut me off so completely. Why be so cruel to me after all the love I'd shown you?"

She did not need to think about it. 

"I love you so much, I knew I'd weaken and let you back into my life. I was in such agony about losing you, I wouldn't have been able to resist, and from what I thought I knew then, I wanted the best for you. I was sure from what they told me that you were getting back with Cheryl--"

"But--"

"Yes, I know, she was never coming back. But don't you see?

"If I'd let you argue with me, you would have convinced me to stay with you, and I thought that this would destroy everything. I wasn't cutting you out; I was cutting myself out. Do you understand? I was misguided, stupid if you like, but I did it all out of love for you."

Now it all made sense. A sense of intense relief swept over him. "You're telling me that you've loved me all along. You love me now?"

"Yes. More than ever. After what you said when you saw me with Bob, your disgust, I was astounded at your selflessness when you came and looked after me. You even undressed me and put me to bed. All the while thinking I was with someone else. I can see why your 'friends' at the Home love you."

"I put you on the loo as well!" he smiled. She coloured up. "You wiped your own bum." He grinned more broadly. 

Then she smiled, but it was gone in a flash, replaced by a worried frown.

"Mike," she asked at length. "Where do we go from here?"

"Where do you want to go?" he asked. He knew how much he loved her. It came as a moment of supreme clarity. He understood why she had cut him off. He knew he wanted this woman more than his own life. 

"After all," he added, "I didn't break us up."

"Can you ever forgive my stupidity?" she asked. "Can you ever forgive me for the hurt I caused you?"

"It was never a question of whether I forgave you," he responded. "It was a matter of understanding. I just couldn't understand why you rejected me so completely. I understand that now. It makes sense. So, where do you want to go from here?"

"Would you consider dating me again?" she looked uncertain, as well she might.

"I don't think so."

This confused her and her shoulders sagged.

"No," he said after a moment's thought, "I couldn't do that. If you want us to start again, you'll have to do a few things." He held back a smile: poker face. 

"What?" she asked. "I'll do anything."

"One: you have to move back here with the children. Two: you'll have to move from your suite to mine. And," here he paused for effect. "Three: you have to agree to marry me."

He waited. There was silence. She looked puzzled as the conditions sank in. Then her face was lit by a radiant smile and she leapt to her feet and threw herself onto his knee, kissing his face all over, all the while making little sounds of pleasure.

"So?" he asked as sternly as he could muster. "I'm waiting for an answer."

She sat up, smiling. 

"Would I move back? Yes! Would I move from my suite to yours? Wouldn't it be better for you to move into mine? Nearer the kids? We could use yours if we wanted to make some noise."

She paused. Then she said with a coquetish smile, "What was the last condition?"

"You know perfectly well what it was," he said, po-faced.

"I think you should ask me properly. Out there, in front of the children."

"OK." 

At that moment he knew what the answer would be.

She kissed him intensely, her soft mouth opening and her agile tongue raping his mouth. 

"I love you so much!" she said, coming up for air. "I never thought it would end this way today!"

"Neither did I," he said laughing, "and it isn't ending, it's beginning. Come on then, let's talk to the children."

They disentangled themselves and walked out of the room together. They went into the living room where Ginny and Ryan were playing. Mike called up to Siobhán to come down. When they were all assembled, sitting in a row on the same sofa they'd sat on the first day they arrived that Christmas Eve. Claire sat in 'Mike's' chair. He stood before her, then went down on one knee and said the words.

"Claire Connors, I love you more than my own life. Will you marry me?"

Claire looked at her family with a wicked smile. 

"Shall I?" she asked. 

The girls nodded, while Ryan looked confused, after all he was a little boy. 

"Mike is going to marry Mummy," Siobhán explained t him and he smiled happily.

"Are we coming home? he asked.

"I think so," said Siobhán casting a glance at Mike.

Mike was choked with emotion, not at the proposal he had made, but at little Ryan calling Mike's house 'home'. He nodded, and the children's smiles broadened with satisfaction.

Claire made her response, "Then Mike Stewart, yes, please. I want more than anything in my life to marry you." 

They stood and kissed long and hard. The children laughed and clapped, then they came to the couple and there was a family hug.

"Does that mean you really are going to be our Daddy?" asked Ryan.

"Yes, my little one," he was eventually able to say.

"So we are going to live--" Siobhán, began to ask, ever practical.

"Here," said Claire. "We're moving back today."

"Thank God!" said the teenager. "I so hate that house. Can we go and pack now?"

Now Mike had had a different idea, which involved him and Claire, his bedroom, and the bed, but that would have to wait. The enthusiasm of all the children for an immediate move overrode everything. 

However, there was one thing he wanted to do. He ran upstairs, got the necklace she had worn that first time they made love, the one his Grandmother gave him, the earrings, and one item he had not brought out before, her engagement ring. For a ring made in the last decade of the nineteenth century. It looked quite modern: it was a large diamond with a cluster of smaller ones around it on a gold ring. He put it in his pocket.

He brought the set down, to find the girls still sitting on the sofa. Ryan, now everything was settled in his eyes, had gone off to play. Mike stood before Claire, opening the box and showing her the set.

"My Grandmother told me to give this to the woman I married," he said to her. "I never gave it to Cheryl, and never understood why. I do now. Please accept it."

She gasped and took the box. "I loved wearing it before. And now!" she showed the set to the girls, and as she did so, he took the ring out and waited for her to turn back to him. 

He held the ring out. "This will make our engagement official."

She gasped. "It's beautiful!" she whispered. She held out her hand and he slipped it onto her ring finger. Amazingly it fitted, if a little tightly. It could be stretched. Now they were really engaged, he thought with satisfaction. The girls swarmed around exclaiming over the ring. A success!

Once again he was struck by the total absorption of the female of any age in engagement rings. Ryan was not interested, and Mike realised that with the average man, he'd look and say, if he had any sense, "Wow, that's nice!" But women? It seemed to be a whole body, soul and spirit experience. It so happened he was choked with emotion and he left them. The womenfolk did not notice.

The rest of the afternoon and evening was taken up with removing Mike's new family's clothing and other personal possessions from Claire's house to Mike's. There was a good deal more this time than before, since everything had to be moved and it took three journeys in both cars to accomplish the mission to their satisfaction.

He noticed a certain amount of hurried and hushed conversation between Claire and the two older children. Eventually, when the final journey had been made, it was Ginny who approached him as he was carrying the last cardboard box into Claire's room.

"Mike?" she said tentatively; she had never got round to calling him 'Dad' like Siobhán and Ryan. "Are you going to move your things into Mummy's room as well?"

He was taken aback, but covered it. 

"Well, darling," he said, "I think Mum needs to sort her things out before we think of that, don't you?"

"But now you're engaged," she persisted, "you are going to come down this end, to be with us?"

He caught Claire's eye, and she was smiling broadly. She nodded vigorously and Ginny caught the movement and giggled.

"Seems I'll have to!" he said with as much resignation as he could muster, which wasn't much. Ginny moved off, satisfied with the success of her mission and Claire came into his arms.

"You're sleeping here tonight," she said after they came up for air after a long kiss. It was not a question.

That night, after the children had gone to their rooms and beds with big smiles and clear satisfaction, as if they felt they had truly come home, amid boxes and suitcases, Mike's fiancée and he made slow, peaceful and above all quiet love in her bed in her room, which had become theirs. 

Mike was worried about her reaction to having sex with a man after Gary's violence, but she came to him artlessly, pushing her body against his as a flagrant invitation. She took his penis and put it into her body, and he pushed it in the rest of the way. In that position, fully within her, he stayed still, until she moved against him from beneath him, inviting him to thrust.

"Give it to me!" she whispered.

"You haven't come," he said.

"Not tonight," she replied into his ear. "I'm too tired. But I want your seed in me, I want your swimmers inside my womb."

And so he completed their love-making, after which she hugged him to herself, wrapping her legs round him in case he withdrew.

"Stay!" she commanded and they kissed and cuddled as his erect member gradually lost its rigidity and rather apologetically, Mike thought, slipped from her. She smiled.

"Now you are really mine," she whispered, "and I am completely yours."

"Mike," she continued as they relaxed, "have you time to come with me on Monday? I'll prove there was nothing between Bob and me."

"You don't need to prove anything to me," he said, idly tracing the scar down her cheek. The surgeon had done a good job and it was now fainter, though the corner of her lip still sagged slightly. Not that it bothered him; it made kissing unique.

"No," she said, "but I don't know how he'll react. I'm afraid of being alone and telling him to stay away from me."

He understood. After her encounter with Gary, she was justifiably worried for her safety alone with a man.

"I'll be there," he said, and got a hug for his answer.

Sunday was full of unpacking, and another journey to the other house for extras, the things Claire wanted with her, the things of sentimental value. That was fine. He wanted his house to become truly her home. Now it was. There would be other articles to bring, but they would wait.

----- 

"Hi, Claire, feeling better?"

The voice came from the front door, which Claire had answered.

"Yes thank you Bob," she replied. "Come through."

Mike was upstairs on the landing and Claire was leaving the doors open so he could hear.

"Sorry our evening turned out as it did," he said.

"I'm not, I learned a lot about you that night Bob, and I didn't like any of it." Her voice was cold and distant.

"He made all that stuff up and got his friends to back him up." 

He sounded earnest. Mike had to admire his style, and his barefaced lies.

"Well Bob," Claire said firmly, "I can't really believe you because I know you are a liar."

"What d'you mean?"

"When you came here last week, you told Mike we'd been sleeping together. Why?"

"He got up my nose! He was acting like a prat; you know he wouldn't let me in?"

"Yes I know. He was right too. I was feeling very bad. So you lied to him."

"Only to put him off. I love you Claire, you know what they say, 'all's fair in love--'"

She interrupted him, "Bob, you're a selfish man through and through! You know, because I told you often enough when you came to visit, that I wanted Mike. Yet you tried to turn him away with lies. And you say you love me? You're a liar Bob. It won't matter if Mike never wants me again after what I did to him, you haven't got a chance with me, I don't date liars."

"Oh, don't give me that!" 

Mike tensed as Bob began to sound aggressive. "You would have shagged me that night if he and his friends hadn't arrived, and once you'd experienced what I could do for you, you wouldn't want a limp dick like Mike ever again."

Smug bastard, Mike thought.

"Bob you're such a fool!" she crowed. "You haven't a clue have you? You know the saying 'Size isn't everything, it's what you do with it'? Well, it's not size, or what you do with it, it's the love that counts. 

"Your women have sex with you because of your big willy, but they stay with their husbands, don't they? I bet when their husbands find out, and they will Bob, those women will cry and say it was only sex! And then the cliche will follow: 'it didn't mean anything'. That's you Bob, you don't mean anything beyond a bit of fun."

"Claire it's not true! I do love you. I've never felt like this about anyone. I'll give up these other women if only I can have you. Please give me a chance."

"Sorry Bob, I can't believe what you say. If you're going to level with me, tell me about Cheryl and her part in this seduction you're trying. You are with her at the moment aren't you?"

"Only for her convenience," he was gabbling. "She doesn't really want me, she wants Mike. She told me that Mike really loves her and she's never stopped loving him. She made a big mistake when she had that fling with Gordon. And she told me all about Mike's hatred for ugliness of any sort, everything has to be perfect, so she said it would be best for you and for him if I got you and she got Mike. 

"That's why I came to the hospital. I will level with you Claire, I just wanted to bed you at first but now I've fallen in love with you. You've no chance with Mike now he knows about us so how about giving it a go? I'll be good for you; you'll not be sorry."

"Um," said Claire. "I did well out of Mike, I made good money looking after him. You're saying you want me for keeps?"

"Yes of course."

"Just me? No others on the side?"

"Yes, truly."

"So what do you do for a living? How much do you make? You won't just have me to keep, there are three children and they come expensive. What exactly do you do, Bob?"

Mike realised she was playing with Bob. She knew Bob was unemployed and work-shy. 

The woman was strong. All the repeated beatings, and the attempted murder hadn't made her weak; the very opposite. She had confidence in herself, and she was leading the conversation the way she wanted it to go. Mike felt elation. That self-confident, intelligent, efficient woman was his fiancée. Mike felt he couldn't say she was his, but he was definitely hers.

"Bits and pieces, I do some good deals here and there."

"You're unemployed you mean."

"Well, officially, yes, but I get by doing some unofficial deals."

"So you defraud the Social Security?"

"Not really, just a little extra here and there."

"So you're living on Cheryl's earnings really, she's paying the bills?"

Silence.

"Sorry Bob," she said. "Not good enough. For your women you're OK for a fling but a non-starter for a real relationship, and personally I don't do flings. Time for you to go."

"But," he tried one last play. "Even just for a fling I could give you a good time. You're on your own; no one wants a woman with three children. You must be getting horny. I can give you mind-blowing sex, these other women don't keep dating me just because my cock is big, they get blown away by my technique as well. Come on, come to bed, I'll show you."

"No Bob, you're just not my type. Go now. Goodbye."

He left without another word.

Mike started to go downstairs and she was grinning up at him, when the doorbell went again. He disappeared and she opened the door.

"Cheryl!" she gasped. "What brings you here? Did you bring Bob?"

"Can I come in?"

Once again the journey to the living room was made.

"Listen, Claire," she started, "I came to save you a lot of heartache. I thought Bob would be the ideal person for you. He's very good in bed and it would take your mind off Mike. You know you'll never have Mike, don't you?"

"Really?" Claire sounded really worried. Mike almost applauded.

"All his friends know he loves beautiful things and attractive, fit women, like Tracy and Bryony. That's why he had that affair with you. You were very pretty. But now? Well, it's just not on. 

"It's not your fault, but that ex-husband of yours finished your chances with Mike. Bob told me Mike's been here when you were ill. I don't want to get your hopes up, that's all. He's full of compassion and pity you know, but I think you also know that's not enough for a relationship."

"It's very kind of you," said Claire. That girl was some actress!

"That's why I thought Bob might be ideal for you."

"That's very thoughtful of you, but he's just not my type. Even if he were my type he's not got a job. I've got three children to bring up. So I'm grateful for your concern, but I can lead my own life."

"But you lost your job with Mike."

"Yes, but before that he put me through college and I got three "A" levels all "A" grades after six months' work. I also got my driving license. I've got a few irons in the fire, and I don't need a work-shy layabout living off me as well. So once again, thanks for your concern but I can look out for myself."

There was a shuffling of chairs and they came into the hallway. The door opened. Mike went to the window of the front bedroom.

"Well," said Cheryl. "Thanks for your time. 'Bye."

"'Bye," 

Then Claire raised her voice to reach Cheryl as Mike watched her go down the path. "By the way, did you find Gary a good fuck?" and she slammed the door. 

"Gotcha!" she shouted.

Mike heard her giggle. 

Cheryl stopped and turned. She looked aghast, her mouth hanging open. The realisation that Claire knew a lot more than Cheryl had thought came home to her. She realised that the whole interview had been a farce. Then she turned and hurried back to her car.

Mike went downstairs. Claire was looking very pleased with herself. He smiled.

"Remind me never to get on the wrong side of you!" he laughed. She looked smug and hugged him.




Not Just for Christmas Ch. 10-13



"Hang on!" he said, "She must have seen your ring? It was obvious what it was."

"I turned it the other way," she said, showing me the ring with the diamond cluster in her palm. "It looks like a wedding ring."

The woman never ceased to amaze him.



Chapter Thirteen

The family settled in quickly, mainly because they had all lived in the house for months before. The only things that changed were that Mike moved in to sleep with Claire, and their relationship was no longer employer and employee. 

The new equal relationship was no problem to either of them. They had always talked about any expenditure so there was no change there, and Claire was in any case a thrifty person. In fact he had to persuade her to buy herself clothes and shoes. They held the same view of how to bring up children and always backed each other up.

Dominating the next weeks was the wedding. They were not going to waste any time, and planned it for the children's Autumn half-term holiday. The wedding was to be on the Monday of that week, and then the children were going back with their new Grandparents for the week, while Claire and Mike went on their honeymoon for a few days. 

Claire and Mike did the paper work. They booked the register office. It was not to be a lavish affair for they were both marrying for the second time. The girls wanted to be bridesmaids, so Claire had to sort out dresses for them and a dress for her. He was not allowed to see any of it. Ryan was to get a suit with a waistcoat, shirt and tie.

Needless to say, while the wedding was supposed to be small, Mike's family and some friends came down from Scotland in force for the ceremony and the lunch to follow. Surprisingly Claire's brother from the North of Scotland came down (engineered by Mike), which balanced the rejection by her other brother who did not even bother to reply to the invitation. Still, as Claire said, Mike's family felt more like her family than her own. 

Catherine made the journey from the States with her husband. Mike never believed that his name could really be Hank until Catherine's wedding: he thought she'd made it up as a long running joke, but it was true. Hank had become a brilliant friend, and was able to hold his own in the whisky drinking that was obligatory whenever Mike's family came together. 

In a fascinating combination, Claire's brother was Mike's best man, while Catherine, Mike's big sister was her matron of honour, or their witnesses as they preferred to call them. A wonderful balance. Mike had worried that Tom would be upset but he brushed off Mike's worries. He brought Bryony to the wedding.

While Claire wouldn't let Mike see the wedding dress, nor the bridesmaids' dresses, she pressed and prepared Mike's best suit the night before. However she did not know he would not be wearing it, and he did not enlighten her. Two could play at that game. She would find that his 'dress' would also be a surprise. He was able to keep the secret because he was staying with Tom the night before the ceremony.

So, along with the rest of the males in Mike's family, he arrived at the register office in full Stewart tartan, kilt, sporran, dress shirt, jacket, the lot! They took their places in the room before Claire arrived. 

When Claire made her entrance, Mike was bowled over by her. She wore a pale blue knee length dress, very shaped to her hour-glass figure, the bodice plain and held by two spaghetti straps. She wore the jewellery he had given her. He hoped his face showed his admiration. The bridesmaids also looked wonderful in various matching shades of blue.

Claire's face showed utter amazement when she saw him and the other Stewart men, and then her face was lit by a radiant smile. She obviously loved his outfit, as he loved hers.

They made their vows. They gave each other rings. It was a short ceremony. Then there were photographs. Finally they were on the steps of the Town Hall. More photos.

"God!" whispered Claire. "Your outfit is a real turn on! I don't know if I can wait for evening to come!"

Then, as they went down the steps to the cars, Claire stopped. Mike looked. It was Cheryl. Claire and Mike were first down the steps, and Cheryl moved forward, looking self-conscious, even embarrassed.

"I just want to say," she said, "that I wish you both all the best in your life. Claire, you'll be much better for him than I ever was. Please... could I come and see you both after the honeymoon?"

The cheek of the woman fumed Mike. She engineered the attempted murder of his wife, she then tried to turn her off him. What mischief was she planning now? He was about to tell her to get lost, when Claire floored him. 

"We'd love to see you. Would you like to come to the reception? It's at our house." Claire was smiling openly.

"No, thank you all the same. I must go." Cheryl looked discomfited.

"We'll be back Saturday, how about Sunday?" Claire said with what Mike could only see as compassion and this for the woman who was responsible for her scars.

"Thanks!" she said and stood aside with a wistful smile, before turning and walking away.

Claire and Mike got into the car, with the family all standing around, and were driven off.

"My darling," he said, unable to help himself. "What was that about? That woman did her best to ruin your life."

Claire looked at him with a smug grin. "My love," she said with glee, "don't you see? She fought, but I won! Who got you? I did! She's going to come to 'our' house, and you built it for her!"

Who was this woman he had married?

"So, is it revenge or compassion?" he asked her.

"Mike," she said patiently, "I don't need any revenge. I won the battle. True I've got scars, I'm disfigured and she's beautiful, but I still won! I don't need to get revenge but I'd like to know why she did it. Did you never wonder why she is so selfish? I do. But enough of her, come on this is our day. I just got married to my kilted soulmate!"

What could he do? He kissed her and she kissed back and they continued their lip-lock until they arrived at the house.

The wedding lunch went well, with the usual speeches. Claire's brother amalgamated the best man's and the 'father of the bride's' speech to the amusement of all. The afternoon passed in a whirl and Mike remembered little of it. 

A slight damper of the general happiness of the day came when Catherine came to Mike quietly before the meal and gave him some news. 

A fortnight before the wedding Gary Sonter had been tried. It had hung over them menacingly for months. Claire and Mike would have had to give evidence. There was a possibility that Siobhán would also be required.

In the event it was not necessary. Gary's counsel had discussed the evidence with him, which was conclusive, and he had pleaded guilty to all the charges, in the hope of a more lenient sentence. There was quite a list: two counts of attempted murder and grievous bodily harm with intent were the most serious, and there were a number of relatively minor offences.

Claire and Mike had attended the trial which was consequently short. Gary saw them together and scowled. The crimes were described in detail and the evidence was produced. The judge reserved judgement for two weeks pending psychiatric reports, which meant that perversely but perhaps aptly he would sentence Sonter at roughly the same time as Claire and Mike were saying their marriage vows.

As a result, Catherine was given the message before the wedding lunch and she gave it to Mike. Sonter had been sentenced to life imprisonment with a minimum of twenty years before parole could be considered. He was sentenced for the other crimes to run concurrently, but the result was the same. 

While confessing to the crimes he had refused to say how he knew where she was, and the judge commented that the matter should be investigated. The message about the sentence reminded Mike of his suspicion about Cheryl's part in the attack.

After the meal, he told Claire the result and she was upset. There were tears, and she buried her head in his chest to hide them. He held her, saying nothing.

"I'm sorry, Mike," she sobbed. "We were married for fourteen years and many of them were happy. I can't think how he'll survive prison."

Mike wondered the same, particularly in view of the violence on Claire. Violence to women is second only to offences against the young, and such prisoners are targets in prison. Claire asked Mike not to tell anyone, they would find out in any case before long, and it would have caused a shadow over the celebrations. Catherine agreed to keep it to herself until after Claire and Mike had left the party.

They were to spend the first night in an airport hotel and then fly to Malta for their honeymoon. They arrived in their room; she was still wearing her wedding dress and Mike his kilt. They were to leave them in a bag which Catherine would collect the next day.

They put their bags down and were alone for the first time since they vowed themselves to each other. She looked at him with a half smile. He looked at her with half lust. She reached behind her and unzipped her dress. It fell to the floor.

She stood patiently, one foot slightly in front of the other, while Mike gazed at her in rapt admiration. She had found an underwear set in the same shade of sky blue as the dress, though it was almost completely made of lace. A fairly minimal bra, a suspender belt holding up her stockings, which were skin coloured, and the briefest of bikini panties again in lace.

"Well?" she inquired. "Does it meet with your approval my lord and master?"

Mike shut his mouth which had dropped open and he nodded mutely. 

"Aye! Stunningly beautiful!" he then managed to exclaim quietly, "and the underwear set is fantastic too!" 

She laughed. "You're a smooth talker Mike Stewart, you could talk any girl out of her knickers!" She hooked her fingers into her knickers but kept them on her hips.

"Your turn!" She nodded at his kilt.

He took out the pin, undid the fastening round his waist and dropped the garment to the floor. Her eyes grew round and wide.

"You got married, like that?" she exclaimed with a wide smile: he had gone commando under the kilt.

"It's the Scottish way, but it was a mite draughty," he commented, as he undressed until he was naked, and stood in front of her.

"Stunningly beautiful!" she grinned, "especially without the knickers!" Then she came into his arms. He reached behind her to undo her bra. She stopped him.

"No," she smiled, "I strip for you." And she did. Slowly. No gyrations, just the simple but slow discarding of her remaining clothing.

The stockings came off first, one by one, slowly rolled down. Then the suspender belt. Then the bra, which she held to her breasts after unclasping it for a tantalising minute, before bending forward and letting drop showing off her breasts which hung down pendulously. Finally she turned her back and infinitely slowly peeled her panties off her hips and down her straight legs, bending over away from him, showing him her freshly shaved pudenda, which glistened with her dampness. 

She revealed herself proudly, scars and all, for, as she had told him in the car, she had won the war and the scars reinforced the scale of the victory. They would be with her for the rest of her life, and he swore they detracted not a jot from her beauty.

Then she straightened, turned, came nude into his arms and said most seductively, "Take me, my hero. Ravish me, make me yours." 

With a throaty giggle she grasped his cock, which had obligingly risen and she led him by it, edging backwards to the bed, where she lay on the edge with her legs wide apart dangling over the side.

He stood between them and bent to give her a tongue bath.

"No, Mike, my darling," she moaned. "I want you inside me now. Please."

How could he refuse? He put her legs over his arms and bent over her until he was able to kiss her lips as his cock parted her folds. She reached round her legs which were now over her shoulders, positioned him and he pushed into her.

"Yes!" she gasped. "That's what I want. Now we're one!" 

Then, "Oh! you've filled me right up, I can feel you. Now, stand up straight, make me truly yours, make love to me."

He began the movements she wanted, standing full thrusts alternating with short stabbing mini-strokes, her legs over his arms. 

She grimaced each time he bottomed out but kept encouraging him,"Yes! Yes! Yes!" with each stroke. 

He thought of Scotland, he thought of traffic jams, he thought of his ugly old infants' teacher, anything to stop the impending rush of his semen until she had reached her goal. Eventually he could hold back no longer.

"I'm coming!" he shouted.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" she cried, his shout pushing her over the edge, her sex clutching at his cock as he came at the sensation. They both grunted and moaned as it took them. It was a supreme moment, they agreed. 

A little later, as they lay together in the peaceful rest which comes from such a coupling, he asked her.

"Why like that? What's all that about: 'Take me, make me yours'?"

"Gary often used to take me against my will like that. You gave yourself to me today like that, and I gave myself to you. I wanted you to take possession, make me yours . I know it's sort of primitive, I loved that you did it standing proud, using me. I needed you to drive Gary out. You did! Thoroughly!"

So he felt smug and satisfied. They didn't have sex again until they reached Malta, where they remedied the deficiency, and also found time to see the sights and enjoy the late autumn sunshine which was about as warm as a typical summer's day at home. 

It was an easy time. After all they had lived together without sex for months, each desperately wanting the other, and in the process had got to know each other very well. Then they discovered their love for each other and made love over a weekend. 

After their crisis was over, they had four weeks sharing the same bed. They were used to each other, and they 'did sex' very well. However there was a deeper intimacy now they were publicly committed to each other for life; a more complete all-pervading warmth just being together.

It was only four days; they wanted a weekend at home before they had to collect the children from Scotland on the Monday (the teachers had an in-service day). It had been totally relaxing in spite of some intensive sexual exercise, and it was good to go home. 

They settled in, doing the shopping for the coming week, airing the house, changing the bedding, all the domestic things that cement one into one's home, and now they looked forward to their children coming home. 

The children were 'their' children now, not only Claire's children. Indeed, there had been a surprise waiting for Mike when they got home. There was a large envelope addressed to Mrs C Stewart. She opened it and came to sit by him on the sofa.

"I have a present for you," she said with shyness in her smile.

"Oh?" he said, intrigued.

"I applied to the court for something."

"A divorce?"

"Oh, stop it!" she punched his arm. "Here, read it."

It was from Victor Rushworth, their solicitor.

"Dear Claire,

"It gives me great pleasure to inform you that following your application to the courts for a change of name, this has been granted. Accordingly, Shania, Virginia and Ryan Sonter are now to be known as 

Siobhán Stewart

Virginia Stewart

Ryan Stewart.

Be sure to congratulate them from me and congratulate your husband also. He is a very fortunate man.

Yours etc

Victor.

The man who had worn no knickers under his kilt cried like a baby when he saw what his family had done for him, and found consolation in the softness of his wife's breasts.

Claire told him that the children had asked to have his surname, and they had conspired to have it changed. The normal practice is for the permission of the birth father to be obtained. 

Gary had refused. So they went to court, and in view of the assault of Gary on Claire and Siobhán, and the publicity of the trial, the court agreed it was in their best interest to change their names. While they were at it, they got Shania's Christian name officially changed as well.

Mike now understood the Biblical sentence. "My cup runneth over."

At this point it would round things off nicely to say they lived happily ever after. 

The End. Not! (as they say nowadays). 

----- 

For one thing, they had forgotten about Cheryl.

On Sunday morning they slept in. Well, slept is not quite the correct word, except in the meaning of the words, 'slept together'. So it was after lunchtime by the time they came downstairs dressed for the day.

They had finished a light snack by way of breakfast and lunch combined when the doorbell sounded, and Claire clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Oh, God!" she blasphemed. "It'll be Cheryl! I'd forgotten all about her."

"Bloody hell, Claire," he muttered. "Why the hell did you invite her? She's bound to have some other nastiness up her sleeve."

"Don't be ridiculous!" she snapped. "I told you why. She asked; I've won. She had you and let you go; I've got you and won't let you go. We'll talk about this later."

She ran to the door. Mike was angry, no, livid. He followed at a distance.

Claire opened the door, and sure enough, there stood Cheryl. She wore a nervous smile and a coat, the day was chilly.

"Come in, Cheryl," said Claire warmly. Cheryl's smile broadened. Mike's immediate reaction was to wonder what her plan was. 

"Let me take your coat," Claire said to the visitor, who obligingly shed the garment into Claire's hands. Underneath she was wearing a v-necked jumper showing a little cleavage, and a pair of trousers, tight on the bottom and flared at the ankle. Claire hung up the coat.

"Come through," she said, the task completed. "Tea or Coffee?"

"Coffee please," said Cheryl.

"Mike, please would you make some coffee for us all?" Claire asked sweetly.

He seethed, but nodded and retreated with a scowl to the kitchen, leaving the living room door open. There was no conversation beyond a minimal exchange.

"Shall we wait for Mike?"

"Yes."

Who said what? The kettle heating up made it impossible for him to tell. He thought that could be important.

He brought in the coffee and served it. Then he sat down. Cheryl was sitting in one armchair, Claire on the sofa and Mike took 'his' armchair that both women had left for him. Both knew it was 'his' chair; it was a strange feeling for him.

They drank. There was a silence.

Then, "Thank you both for allowing me to come," said Cheryl meekly.

This was a different Cheryl. There was none of the light carelessness and unbounded optimism Mike used to know. She was serious and somehow tired and weary. Now he really was worried.

"I needed to come and see you, to talk to you face to face." 

Cheryl gripped the arms of the chair. "I have to apologise fully to you both for what I did to you."

"You didn't do anything to us, Cheryl," said Claire.

"Not directly, but that's why I want to talk to you. So I'm asking your forgiveness. Mike I ask your forgiveness for leaving you the way I did, and for my ingratitude after all you did for me.

"Claire, you need to forgive me for something much more serious. I told Gary where you were. I'm responsible for your injuries. 

"But there's more. Actually you triggered this visit with that remark as I left your house. You said, 'Did you find Gary a good fuck.' It started something like a chain reaction in my head. I didn't enjoy it.

"I realised I'd totally misjudged you. I took you to be a glorified cleaning woman with little real intelligence, but you'd played me along the whole time. I felt such a fool. 

"Then I started thinking things over. I looked at Bob. He's an idiot. It came to me then that none of the men I went with after I left you Mike, OK and before, I admit it, none of them measured up to you. I simply looked for new experiences, and really they weren't all that new or exciting. The novelty soon wore off. I think sex for its own sake is overrated.