I had quite a good weekend. I was beginning to let my hatred of Peter Davies die within me, I guess. I still wasn't happy with him. I still believed that he was an immoral little shit. But maybe I got it back into proportion. There are plenty of immoral little shits in this world, and I would never claim that I was as pure as the driven snow.
On Sunday I brought the boys back to my little flat, and I cooked. Well I followed the instructions on the packets, but it was a fairly healthy good meal. The boys seemed really relaxed, and never seemed to question their lifestyle. I guess a lot of their school friends are in similar positions these days. I did start discussing school, and how happy they were and how well they were doing. I was beginning to wonder if I might pay for private education for them, I could easily afford it. I guess I'll have to talk to Molly about it sometime.
It was on Monday evening in the office that things took another turn. I'd noticed that I was beginning to drift into a bad habit of taking too much paperwork home with me. So, I decided that I'd stay in the office until about six thirty or even seven o'clock, and read some there, but then go home with an empty briefcase.
It must have been sometime after six o'clock, Carole had left, and I was sitting at my desk, just writing notes in the margin of a memo when I heard someone coming down the corridor towards my office.
Piers McBaine came through my door. "You bastard! You fucking bastard!"
I stood up and waved him to sit on a sofa. Although he was defamatory in his language, I could see that his eyes were sad rather than angry. I went over and poured us both a whisky, handed him one and sat down in my armchair.
He took the glass, "Whisky? In the office?"
"I keep it especially for people who come through my door calling me a fucking bastard. I get through quite a lot of it." I smiled.
His face softened, and he smiled, "Somehow I doubt that."
We sat and looked at each other for a long moment, "Well, are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?" I asked.
"You'll guess it's about Peter Davies, and the other bit you know."
"Still, tell me."
"He was a sexual predator on attractive women. Your wife was the last in the line." He said it as a matter of fact, rather tersely.
I sipped my whisky, he sipped his, and then looked at his glass, "Lowland?" He looked at me and smiled, "Glenkinchie I think. Good choice."
"I shan't challenge you in a whisky tasting competition."
"Years of practice. But I need a few more years, then I might get to be good at it." He laughed.
I laughed and the atmosphere relaxed, "So tell me, how did you come to this expected conclusion?"
He looked at me, "You knew I would, you set me up. You knew I wouldn't be able to leave it alone, I'd have to know the truth. I'm a researcher, it's what I do."
I shrugged my shoulders, "I let people play to their strengths. I'm a managing director, it's what I do."
He smiled, "Bastard!" We both smiled, "Well, Peter was so guarded about the start of his affair with Molly, so I decided that I had to get him very relaxed if he was to tell me anything."
"Pissed you mean?"
"Yes. I know that Peter can hold his liquor well, but I also know that I can hold mine better. So I told him that I wanted to talk about a lot of Abbey business, off the record, out of the office. I suggested that I'd buy him dinner at the George after Friday drinks, and taxis home. Actually, I think he got Molly to give him a lift in on Friday morning, so he was prepared. Maybe he's being feeling a bit insecure, and was looking forward to a boozy dinner with his boss."
"When he would feel wanted and relaxed."
"Exactly, so after two or three rounds downstairs, I took him upstairs to the restaurant. And we had a bottle of wine with the meal. And then a second bottle. But we did talk, nothing but Abbey business. In fact it was a good talk, we cleared up quite a few genuine issues. Then I ordered a third bottle, and we were both fairly relaxed by then. It was getting late, and they wanted to close the restaurant, but we are so well known there that they just left us to it, in a deserted dining room."
"Go on."
"Well I remarked that I was fairly *****, and that Jeanette would be annoyed with me. And, as drunks do, I suddenly went off into a story about Jeanette. About the moment when I knew, really knew, that I was in love with her. We'd been going out for about eighteen months, and we were in London on a beautiful summer Sunday. We went to Hyde Park and took a rowing boat out on the Serpentine. Well Jeanette, being an independent sort of a girl, insisted on rowing. And she was throwing up so much spray that I was getting soaked sitting in the back of the boat. But it was then that I knew that I just had to spend the rest of my life with this girl, that I loved her. We got engaged about a month later."
"And Peter had to reply."
"Exactly, I asked him when he knew that Molly was the one. And he said, it happened a lot earlier in the relationship. He had been 'working' on Molly for a couple of months, and at last after a lovely lunch, he had got her back to his flat. He had a very smart flat down by the harbourside in those days. And he said he got her to bed for the first time, and they made love. Well, afterwards, she had to get dressed and leave, but he just lay in the bed and knew that he'd met the one for him."
"So, up until he'd seduced her, he didn't love her." I said bitterly.
"I asked: But what about before? And he said he was just busy working on getting into her pants, as he put it. So I asked, well what did you see in her when you first met? And he said with a leer, 'Well you know what I was like in those days, Piers.' I knew I just had to leave, otherwise there would have been a very drunken row very quickly after that."
"Point proven, and from his own lips." I said, vindicated.
"He might argue that it was love at first sight, that he just didn't know it. I think something along those lines is his usual, sober version." Piers observed, taking a sip of his whisky.
I added wryly, "And it doesn't explain why Molly let it happen."
Piers nodded, "No it doesn't. And that does lead me back to Jeanette."
I looked at him and waited for him to continue.
"Jeanette was in bed when I got back, which was probably as well. But on Saturday we talked. You have to understand, Jeanette is a ******** of the manse; her father was a Presbyterian minister. She was brought up with a pretty strict moral code, and now she is so upset with Peter. And I think you made a big impression on her."
"It was the flowers." I said deprecatingly.
"I think it was the sad look in your eyes when you talk about the divorce. And the love in your eyes when you talk about your boys." He paused, "But anyway, she has had a lot of doubts about Molly in all of this, especially since that lunch with her. I think she's been holding it in for my sake. Well now, she doesn't want anything to do with either of them."
"That's sad." I said, and I meant it.
"Well, maybe she'll get over it in time. But, we were meant to be having Peter and Molly to dinner this coming Saturday. So this morning I had to have a very unpleasant interview with Peter, and tell him that they are no longer welcome."
"I'm sorry for you."
"So you should be. My knowing that he was someone who would spark the destruction of a ****** is not what I want to know about my deputy. And I've got to work with him. That's why I'm over here this afternoon. I've been talking about it to Neil in Personnel."
"And what did he say?"
"Personally, I don't think he liked it very much. But he reminded me that I have to find a way of working with him. We can't sack him, he's done nothing illegal. I just don't know how we can get along, and unless Jeanette eases up a bit, I'll be getting hard comments at home. I'll be in the middle."
"I'm sorry. I really am. But Neil's right."
We paused, then he smiled, "Well, I'll live. You must come over to dinner again. Jeanette is even more anxious to see you again now."
After Piers left, I sat in my office thinking things over. I don't know what I felt. I was vindicated, but what good did it do me? Molly must have been totally infatuated by him. In some ways it seemed rather sad that she'd fallen in love with someone who had such dubious morals towards others. I went home feeling slightly deflated.
On Tuesday evening, as I was walking along the street towards a café where I was becoming a regular, Molly phoned me.
"I was wondering if we could meet, sometime soon, please Chris."
I wondered what about, and wondered if I was going to be accused of breaking them up with Piers and Jeanette, another thing I'd done wrong.
"Sure. When were you thinking of?"
"Any chance of a lunch? I'll pay."
"You don't need to do that, I'll happily pay, but I haven't got my diary on me for a weekday lunch. Carole tends to keep it. From memory I think Friday is clear, but I'll have to check in the morning."
"I'll phone you in the office in the morning. Is that OK?"
"Of course it is. Just in case I'm not there, I'll tell Carole to expect your call. Do I get a clue as to what it is about?"
"No, but there is something I need to say, but I'll say it when I see you. But try to leave plenty of time, so that we can relax and talk."
"OK. Speak to you in the morning."
Afterwards, I thought: Well, at least it'll give me a chance to sound her out on private education for the boys.
The next morning, I beat Carole into the office, but Myra was waiting to see me. I waved her into my office and we sat comfortably. She was telling me about the argument that was going on between Franks and ITI HQ as to who was going to pay for the new ITI accounting systems. The Franks team argued they were being imposed by HQ, and should be part of the takeover costs. HQ argued they were improving the current systems and should be borne by Franks.
As we were speaking I heard Carole arrive, and I excused myself from Myra.
I went out to Carole's desk, closing my own office door behind me. "What does the diary look like for Friday?"
"Ah! I've been meaning to talk to you about that. Stephen Hobbs has been on the phone, he wants to know if you'll go to their Planning Meeting in Exeter on Friday."
"Is there anything else in the diary?"
"No. I couldn't put anything else in if you were going to be in Exeter all day."
"Well, phone Stephen and say OK, but only for a short morning. Molly phoned me last night, she wants to see me for lunch one day, and I wondered about Friday."
Carole looked at me, "And what's that about, or shouldn't I ask?"
"I suspect she wants to knock seven bells out of me, because she probably blames me that Piers McBaine and her Peter aren't talking."
I then went on to give her a summary of Piers's news from Monday. At the end, all she said was, "Well, I guess you weren't surprise. And it's hardly your fault that Piers doesn't like the way Peter Davies behaved."
I then continued with trying to sort out Friday, "If Molly phones, tell her that I'll pick her up for lunch at twelve thirty at the hospital. And afterwards, I'll come back here, assuming that she's not actually put me into the hospital. But I may stay out all afternoon anyway, Molly said she may take some time."
I turned to go back to Myra, with a final request, "I've got Myra in there. Any chance of some coffee for us both?"
About an hour later I was still talking to Myra, and enjoying the glimpses I was getting down her blouse, as one button seemed to have come undone, when Carole came in. She brought us a second tray of coffee.
But then Carole looked at me, "I can confirm that Exeter is expecting you just for the morning on Friday. And I've sorted out your lunch. Your guest is coming here for you to go out, at one o'clock."
I smiled at her discretion. "Thanks."
I turned to Myra. "I'm going to Exeter on Friday for their Progress Meeting. Any chance you can join me, and we can start the ball rolling on all the work we've got to do down there in incorporating them into ITI?
Myra looked doubtful, "I've got a lunch up here on Friday. And it may drift into the afternoon..."
"That's fine. I've got to be back for lunch as well. So meet me here at 7:30, and we'll go down in my car, and I can bring you back as well. And we can finish this conversation in the car. How's that?"
"OK" she said, and started tidying her papers.
Later, as I left my office, I stopped at Carole's desk, "Thanks for sorting out Molly. Friday looks very promising, I'm taking Myra down to Exeter for the morning to get her started down there." I smiled, "My two favourite women in one day. One may be my future, and one is definitely my past."
"You fancy Myra? Mmmm, good taste!" was all she said.
On Friday morning Myra was standing just inside the main entrance, and as I pulled up she came out. She was wearing a suit, made up of a long jacket and a short skirt. Those legs were going to be something to admire as we drove along.
The conversation going down to Exeter was all business, a sort of informal progress meeting. I asked if she'd done anything about getting a revaluation of Marston Abbey. "That's why I have to get back, I have lunch with the Planning Officer for the local Council, and an architect that is liked and trusted by the Council." In fact she was making good progress on all the projects that she had under her wing.
The meetings at Franks Engineering went well. I really like Stephen Hobbs, he is very professional, intelligent and quick on the uptake. His whole team are a very likeable bunch, and although we got through a lot of work in the morning, we also laughed a lot.
The journey back was a lot more relaxed. Myra and myself naturally chatted about the Exeter operation on the way back. Both of us were not surprised that TDF had bought them, but we were surprised that the Exeter company was willing to be bought. They had a tidy, profitable operation down there. When business topics were exhausted, Myra and myself just generally chatted. A bit of HQ gossip, world affairs, today's headlines, anything and everything. We really were getting on well. I considered pushing for a date at the weekend, but decided that it was better to write the morning off as a confidence building exercise. There'll be time to pounce later.
Soon we were back at the factory, and I found Molly waiting for me, sitting on the sofa in Carole's office. She stood up as I arrived, I was hit by how nice she looked. Her dress was deep purple wool, pleasantly above the knee and with just an intriguing amount of cleavage showing. She was wearing the pearl necklace that I'd given her on her twenty-first. I kissed her on her cheek and could smell that perfume again. I politely checked that she knew Carole, which was totally unnecessary.
"Just let me dump these papers on my desk.." I said and went into my office.
"Gosh! It's nice in here." She had followed me in, "I saw it once when it was Henri Bauer's office. It was so stark."
I smiled, "I think it's an improvement, but it is really down to Carole."
On the way out I stopped for a word with Carole, "Anything I need to know about?"
"Nothing urgent. Have a nice lunch, and if you don't make it back, well have a nice weekend."
As we sat in the car, we talked about nice, safe, neutral things, amongst which I sang Carole's praises. I was feeling good and pretty relaxed, I'd had a good morning, I was pretty certain I was on track with Myra; it was Friday on what had been a pretty good week overall and I was beginning to feel confidant about running the Company; Peter Davies had got a bit of a comeuppance; it was a lovely spring day and the world was waking up from winter; and I was going to lunch with an attractive woman who had obviously dressed to impress me. OK, there were some question marks and shadows in my life, may be even in this lunch, but things were looking up.
I suggested that I park near the Bristol Old Vic as there were plenty of restaurants in the area, and we could easily find one. I was thinking of going back to that Italian place with the lime green frontage that Keith had introduced me to on my first Sunday. It was relaxed, friendly place, and I knew that Molly loved Italian food.
As we walked up King Street, I began to realise that Molly wasn't anywhere near as relaxed as I was. I began to feel that I was about to get balled out for Peter's problems, and she was building up to give it to me. I asked what she fancied to eat, and she told me that I could choose, so when I got to the lime green monstrosity I started to head her towards the door.
It was as if Molly had a panic attack. Suddenly her face drained of colour, "No, not there. Please not there."
"OK, OK. We'll choose somewhere else. How about that one over the road?"
She seemed to be looking at me with deep suspicion, but I didn't know why, "Yes, anywhere." She answered, sounding relieved.
So we went over the road. It was nice enough, slightly classier if anything than my choice, and was another Italian. Once we were settled at our table, I had to ask, "What's wrong with the one over the road?"
She looked at me, still seeming to search my face for something, "Nothing. I don't particularly like it, that's all, but Peter likes to take me there. Did you know that?"
"How could I?" I could understand now, if she is well known as Peter's wife over the road, I doubted that she wanted to be seen lunching with another man in there.
She smiled, and seemed to relax. I asked her what she would like to drink, and she asked for a gin and tonic. I ordered a bottle of red wine, excusing myself that I was driving, so I'd stick to a couple of glasses of wine. That led me to ask how she got to the factory, was her car parked there? No, she'd come in by taxi, so that she didn't have to go back there after we've finished.
She opened the conversation once the drinks had arrived, "How are you getting on with the boys? They loved going to the rugby."
"Good. You've done a great job in my absence. I haven't really had one awkward moment." I paused, and smiled, "Well maybe a couple, but only because I don't know them as well as I should. Nothing that was their fault."
"They talk about you all the time, especially to Ralph and Susan apparently. They've obviously missed you from their lives. You were very important to them. And you were a good *** before ...." Her voice began to break for a second. But she paused and took a sip of her cocktail, "I remember you were such a good *** for the week before we broke up. You were such a good *** and I was wracked with guilt because of Peter..." Again, she faltered.
I picked up her theme, "I was only putting in a special effort because I was feeling guilty that I'd neglected you all. I guess I had..." Emotion is catching, I found.
We stared at each other in silence. I took a positive decision not to go over old ground, let's get through this lunch without argument or emotion, it should be an opportunity to build a new relationship.
She must have had similar thoughts, because she changed subject, "Have you heard, Peter and Piers McBaine have fallen out?"
I welcomed a change of subject, but not to this one, "I had heard." I answered cautiously.
"Yes, Peter won't really tell me what about. He says it's about morals or ethics or something, and it all happened a long time ago, but although he has changed his ideas since then, he doesn't regret a thing."
I shrugged my shoulders, I certainly wasn't going to enlighten her.
She continued, without me having to say anything, "My guess is that it's something that's upset Jeanette McBaine. Peter and her are always having heated arguments about ethics, especially in scientific research. I don't think they agree on anything. But I'm a bit surprised that Piers has got involved, he's normally a bit like me and stays well out of it."
"That maybe difficult if Jeanette's upset." I cautiously observed.
"Well Peter has strong views. He's on the liberal wing. He believes passionately in the woman's right to choose; on a person's right to die when they don't want to go on living, living wills and all that. And he's very pro embryo and stem cell research."
I began to feel more confidant, "Well, other people can have different views. I've met Jeanette, but we didn't talk about that sort of thing."
"Oh, you've met her, have you? Of course, Piers went with you to the rugby. No wonder she was so interested in you when I had lunch with her the other day. She was nice enough with me, then. So whatever it is that's upset them, it's cropped up since. My guess is that they came across some old scientific journal where Peter had written something that upsets them now, and even he's changed his mind since. I guess it'll blow over."
If that's what she wants to think, well far be it from me...... "I hope so, I wouldn't like to hear that you've lost a friend just because of something Peter did."
"Thank you," she paused and suddenly looked very nervous, "Chris..." again she paused, a long pause and I waited, and suddenly she picked up the menu card, "Let's order."
While we waited for our food to arrive, I observed, "I see Peter's never convinced you to have your ears pierced. I never could."
She smiled, "Have you gone mad? There's no way I'm gong to have anything like that done. Actually, Peter has never mentioned it. He has suggested that I have some therapy to get me over my phobia, but it really isn't a problem. It doesn't interfere with my life, so I'm happy to live with it."
I smiled, "I always wanted to buy you diamond earrings. I don't know why, it was just a fancy of mine, probably because I couldn't really afford them."
"Yes, we were a bit pushed for cash in those early years, weren't we?"
That sounded a bit like dangerous reminiscing again, but I was saved by our food turning up.
While we were eating I raised the idea of privately educating the boys. First, I gently suggested that maybe they could go away to public school when they got to be thirteen. I didn't plunge in with taking them away from their current school to send them to a private preparatory, although Bristol has a good number of those.
Molly was far from against the idea. She did say that Susan would have a problem with it, something that didn't surprise me after my chat with Ralph of a couple of weeks ago.
In the end we agreed that I could make some enquiries of schools, and she would think about it. We would talk again before we said anything to the boys.
We seemed to be a lot more comfortable after that, we were laughing and joking, and she was smiling a lot. I liked that, I always thought that Molly had a special smile.
Then she threatened to spoil it all again, "Chris I wanted to say that when we split up, I didn't say some things that I should have..."
I headed her off at the pass, "Well, it was all a bit emotional, I guess that was inevitable. Given my time over again, I certainly wouldn't have had us break up like that."
She smiled, "How would you have had us break up?"
I didn't answer with the glib reply that I wouldn't have broken up at all, instead I let fly with my romantic imagination, "Oh, I think I would make love to you one last time. In a big bedroom, with curtains gently blowing in a summer breeze. And it would be a big, soft feather bed, all in white. And we would make love, softly and gently, we were good at doing that." I paused to look into her eyes, and to smile, "And afterwards, you would fall asleep, safe and looking beautiful. And the room would be lit by soft pink rays of a setting sun. And I would slip out from under the covers and steal away."
She smiled softly, and there was a tear in her eyes. "I would have been so sad when I woke up and you were gone..."
I put my hand out, across the table, and squeezed hers. We stared into each others eyes, I don't know what she was looking for, I don't even know what I was looking for.
I decided to break the spell before it became embarrassing, "Tell me about your new house, are you pleased with it?"
She sighed, "Yes, it's one of six built in an architecturally designed concept. Doesn't that sound impressive? Actually it means that there are no gardens, it's six houses laid out around an entrance drive, with open grass and trees all around. It's also very eco-friendly, solar panels and heavy insulation, the rainwater is collected, that sort of thing. There's visitor's parking as you come off the main road, you're meant to walk in, and we get garages away from the main site. Peter likes it, he's very big on doing our bit to save the planet."
I smiled, "So am I."
She laughed, "Says he who drives a bloody great Jag."
As our coffee arrived, I changed the subject again, "How are the boys treating Peter these days? I have to admit I haven't raised the subject that they shouldn't get at him, it's still on my list of things to do."
She smiled, "No better. They enjoy taunting him. They've taken to calling him Elsie, any ideas why?"
I stirred my coffee and tried to think of some significance in Elsie. I couldn't think of a thing. I sipped my coffee and looked up at her. "No idea, I give up."
"I can't think of anything. I rather hoped that it was something that they'd learnt from you."
I didn't like that, "Not from me. I wouldn't give them ideas on how to upset your husband. I don't do that." I looked at her, full in the eyes, "I've always respected that you chose him, and I've never done anything to put him down in the boys eyes."
"No, sorry, I know you haven't." She gave a little laugh, "It isn't the same the other way around. The boys know that they are really rattling him by talking about you. That's why I wondered if there was some connection between you and Elsie."
"Sorry, I can't help you."
We both finished our coffees, and I suggested that I pay. She took the opportunity to go to the Ladies. Having paid, I looked at my watch, it was gone half past two. I suddenly realised that Molly had asked for this meeting, and I wasn't aware of what she wanted to talk about, I hadn't spotted anything significant in the conversation. I did notice, somewhat late, that Peter apparently hadn't mentioned his visit to my office, I wondered why?
I thought it might be a good idea to give her a little longer to say whatever it was that was on her mind. So when she came out of the Ladies, I stood and she came straight up to me and kissed me on the cheek. She'd obviously refreshed her perfume, because I got a full, sentimental whiff.
"Thank you, Chris, for a lovely lunch."
"Thank you. Look why don't I give you a lift home? You heard Carole, she isn't really expecting me back, so I'm not worried about time."
She smiled a really radiant smile, "Thank you, that would be lovely."
As we walked back to my car, she held my arm with both her hands, one arm linked around mine, but her other hand right across her body so that she could rest it on my arm. Odd, I thought, going to lunch she was scared to go into a restaurant where she might be recognised, coming back from lunch she's holding me in what some might see as affection.
When we got to the car, I opened her door, and I got a good flash of leg. She's wearing stockings! Lucky Peter, I thought. She only wore stockings for me on special occasions.
Once I was in the car, she settled, very slightly sitting sideways and with her legs towards me. Her skirt had ridden up a bit, the view was of as much leg as Myra had been showing earlier.
I smiled, "You'll have to direct me, I don't actually know how to get to your place."
She sat there giving me directions as necessary, but said little more. But her legs were really beginning to catch my eye and my imagination. What is she playing at? I'd had signals that she was playing to catch me, but that is neither logical nor likely. Everything could be innocent, especially if lover boy Peter had convinced his wife of four years to dress a little sexier. Maybe it was my thoughts about Myra this morning that are making me see things now.
And then there was that she had said she wanted to talk to me about something. No, it was that she wanted to tell me something. Maybe that something was to do with work, but the breakdown between Peter and Piers might have changed that. But she'd only called me after Peter and Piers had had their bust up. These ideas didn't make sense.
None of this was making any sense. I was reading too much into everything. It must just be my imagination.
We were now approaching the outer suburbs, and suddenly she said "Turn right in here." It was a small driveway, "And park on the Visitors area on the left. Sorry, but if you park by our house you can guarantee that one of the neighbours will complain that I let an alien car in. You will disturb the tranquillity of the living environment." She glanced sideways at me and smiled, "Don't say it!"
We got out of the car and Molly led the way through some bushes on a simple path, lit at night by what looked like small solar lights along the edge of the paving.
We suddenly came out of the bushes onto what was a large green lawn, with six houses placed on it at various angles to the small driveway. Molly led me to the second house.
She turned to me, "Would you like to come in for another cup of coffee, and see where the boys actually live."
I guess my doubt showed in my face, "I'm not sure that's a good idea, Molly. I'd love to, but others might misinterpret it.
"Don't be silly. If you're worried about Peter, he won't be home for hours yet. Come on."
She took hold of my hand, and led me onto their porch. Her touch was electric, taking me straight back to my thoughts in the car.
As she found her keys I looked around. What I would think the architect meant to be a garage was slightly separate to the main house, but its rear came up to one side of us and there was a door that opened onto the porch. I was wondering what it could be.
Molly must have noticed, "Obviously, in the original design they were meant to be garages. But then some bright spark decided to put the garages down by the main road. Some people have converted that space to be a granny annexe, others have it as a home office, and one person has it as a workshop where they are building their own boat. For us, it was fitted as a guest suite, but we use the main room as a home gym, and the smaller room is the boys' playroom. Myself and Peter have had to promise never to go in their bit, it is totally theirs. I send in Maria, our cleaning lady, about once a month to keep it basically hygienic, but I honour my promise. But you haven't promised, you could take a look, they're your sons. And you can tell me what its like."
I looked at her, and she nodded her head in the direction of the door. I opened it and went in, and ignoring the gym equipment, I opened the second door. It was a chaos of untidy toys. On the wall was a pinboard. It was half covered in photographs of myself, Molly and the two boys, all of us on what turned out to be our last holiday together. Little did I know then what would follow eight months later.
There was a pile of children's books and magazines. Halfway down the pile, the quality of the volumes seemed to change. I pulled out a magazine from this middle section. It was a Penthouse, about five years old. I put it back.
I turned around. There was a blackboard fixed to the door wall. I read the scribbling, laughed, and went and called for Molly.
"You should break your promise and come in here. It'll solve the mystery of Elsie."
She looked dubious, but she followed me in. I pointed to the blackboard. On it was written: Little Cock, this was written three times. The L and the C were underlined.
I looked at Molly to see if she'd registered, and then explained, "Little Cock. L - C. Elsie. Mystery solved." For a seven and an eight year old, I thought it was quite clever as a piece of wordplay. I was quite proud of my sons.
Molly was less pleased, "But he isn't."
I looked at her.
"He isn't. He's a bit smaller than you. He's average." She said, rather indignantly.
"If he's a little smaller than me, and he's average. Then I'm ..."
"Conceited." She said with a smile. "How am I going to tell him? Well, I'm not."
"It's only playground humour. It's rather clever for boys of their age." I said. It didn't seem to me to be a major issue.
She looked at me, and appeared to be questioning something. But then something changed her mind, and suddenly she looked determined "Well it won't matter anyway. Come on, let's get that coffee." And she led the way into their kitchen.
I stood there whilst she set about making a couple of mugs of coffee, just leaning against the wall and watching her. What is it about certain girls, about sexual attraction, I couldn't help but to compare her to Helene. On all factual scores Helene would have won hands down, but Molly was ten times more attractive. It was the way she moved, the way she dressed, the look in her eyes, the easy smile, just so many things.
She glanced over at me, and smiled. "Why don't you look round. You wanted to see where the boys actually live."
"Are you sure you don't mind? I don't want to seem nosey."
"Go on...... And be nosey."
I left the kitchen and opened another door. It was their lounge. I was a perfectly pleasant, middle class suburban lounge. I noticed a couple of pieces that had come from mine and Molly's old home, but I wasn't surprised, they were small items that I knew Molly particularly liked.
Next I went into their dining room. I wasn't expecting a time warp. It was walking into mine and Molly's dining room of five years ago. Every stick of furniture had been chosen and bought by us. Even the pictures on the walls were ones that had hung in our dining room, in fact the walls themselves were the same colour as we'd chosen for our house back then. A wave of mixed emotions hit me. I sat down on a chair at the table, my old chair at the head of the table. Arguments, hurt, anger, love, anguish, sadness, guilt, all five years old, washed over me.
I was sitting there, staring into space, when suddenly Molly was in front of me. I looked up at her, she smiled, her face was soft, with love in her eyes, or that's what my illusion told me.
"What are you doing, sitting in here? Have you looked at the boys' bedrooms?"
"No. I didn't like to go upstairs."
"I told you: no worries. Come on."
And I followed those legs up the stairs. On the landing, she pointed to two doors, "Those are the boys' rooms."
I went in to the first one, it was obviously Jamie's. I tried to spot why I knew that, but I couldn't actually see a thing that I could identify as Jamie's. I went next door, again it was instantly recognisable as Ben's room, although this time I could see a couple of things that I knew were his.
I came out of Ben's room, and looked at Molly, she was standing beside an open door to one of the other bedrooms. The light was behind her, she looked beautiful. My emotions were in turmoil, I smiled ironically at myself; I should never have come into this house.
I stepped towards Molly, as I got close to her, she moved right up to me. She put her arms up on my shoulders, either side of my neck. And then she leant in, pulled me down to her and kissed me. Full, open lips, a loving kiss, squarely on my lips. I couldn't help but respond, and I felt my cock twitch.
She broke the kiss and looked sideways into the open bedroom. It was obviously the master bedroom, Molly's and Peter's.
"I'm sorry, it's not all white, and in March I don't think we're going to get pink sunlight, but please, Chris. I need you."
I just looked at her, she seemed so beautiful, it all felt so safe after four years of being by myself. Suddenly I felt that, even with Helene, for four years I'd been by myself. Should I run? Should I stay?
"Please, Chris, just this once. Please. Just once. Never again for as long as I'm with Peter. But just this once, please."
I found my voice, "You wanted to talk, not this."
"Now I want this. We'll talk afterwards."
Suddenly my mind was made up. I took her in my arms and kissed her, with every ounce of passion that had remained dormant for four years.
My hands found the zip down the back of her dress. I unzipped her, and slipped it off her shoulders. Unfortunately, it was a long sleeved dress, and it didn't just fall away like dresses do in the movies. But it did allow me to unclip her bra. It was a black bra, all lace and very sexy. She was beginning to be muddled in a pile of loosened clothes.
"Come on." She pulled me into the bedroom. "Let's undress ourselves, and meet in bed. I want you so much, please don't let's waste time, I need you now."
I was standing at the end of the bed, undressing as fast as I could. She was at one side, undressing herself. She was a lot quicker than me because she had hardly got her bra off before she slipped into the bed, and seemed to slip under the quilt. A moment later, as I was finally taking off my last item, my shirt, she sat up, her breasts swinging above the quilt, and she was waving a little black thong in the air.
"Come on, my darling Chris. Now, please."
I slipped into the bed next to her, and for the first time in four years I held the love of my life. As our legs entwined, I felt her stockings, she had kept them on. It felt strange, but erotic.
I kissed her on the lips, and then I moved down her body to hold and kiss her breasts. Having kissed each nipple and played with each nipple with my tongue, I started to kiss my way down her body, intending to tongue worship her pussy. She put her hands on my head, and guided me upwards, "No, just take me, I need you now, please."
I positioned myself between her legs, in good old missionary position, and my cock found her pussy. It slid into a wet welcoming world. She was so wet. For a moment my experiences of so many women in the intervening years went through my head, none had been as wet as this, except maybe for a couple of whores and I suspected them of surreptitiously using a lubricant. No woman had been in so much in need of me as Molly was then.
After a few minutes of gently stroking in and out, she started to roll me. She wanted me on my back, so that she could ride me. I rolled holding myself to her, and keeping her with me, and me inside her. And then she was on top. The quilt was around her, I couldn't see her lower body, but she drove herself with a frenzy.
And then just as suddenly as she'd wanted to be on top, she was rolling sideways again. Soon we were back into the missionary position.
I wasn't going to last much longer, I kissed her lips, her tongue allowing me total access to her mouth. When I lifted my head, she started saying, "Hold me, Chris........ Hold me........Please."
Without missing a stroke, I got my arms around her upper body, holding her tight to me, as I pounded into her. Suddenly she began to shake, and go rigid, "Oh, my God.....my darling Chris." Her pussy spasmed, holding my cock tight, and she orgasmed. I felt her flood onto my cock, and just as suddenly I was coming.
We lay together for several minutes, recovering, with me lying over her. Then I rolled off, giving her a final kiss on the lips.
As I moved back from her, she followed me, holding herself close, and even taking one of my arms and putting it around herself, showing me that she wanted to be held.
We lay like this for a good ten minutes, with me thinking about my day. It had started with my admiring Myra's legs, and now, late in the afternoon, I was in a post-coital hug with my ex-wife. As my brain tried to grasp some meaning, some understanding of this, I idly kissed Molly's forehead with gentle little kisses. Her breathing slowed and steadied, I could feel her breath on my chin and neck.
Then suddenly she stirred, raising herself and leaning right across me, I watched as she set the bedside alarm for 05:00. As she resumed her snuggled position, she kissed me on the lips, "I want to sleep in your arms, but that'll leave plenty of time for a shower and for us to talk." And she settled again, before turning over but still holding onto my arm.
"But don't the boys need collecting from school?"
"No. Susan's collecting them. They'll stay there tonight."
We snuggled into a spoon position, with her holding onto my arm as it was draped over her. I lay there quietly, and soon Molly's breathing became even and steady as she fell asleep.
I tried moving my arm, but even in her sleep Molly just gripped me tighter. I lay there, still trying to understand, going over my lunch with Molly, looking for clues as to why I'd ended up in her bed, beyond the obvious conclusion that I was a randy man who had been feeling that way all day. But why had she suddenly invited me to be here?
I did have one naughty, idle thought: wouldn't it be a pity if Peter came home early! But then, I began to feel sleepy and I think I gently dozed.
I woke up suddenly, something had wakened me. I scrabbled backwards in my mind, trying to recapture the noise. It was outside, it sounded like a door closing, probably a neighbour. I wasn't totally relaxed in a strange bed in a strange house, simple things disturbed me. There it is again, this time I did here a door shut. I looked at the alarm clock beside the bed, it was 04:44. I lay there, listening, hardly daring to breathe.
Now there were footsteps on the stairs. Molly was still sleeping peacefully, but she had relaxed her grip on my arm, so that I could pull it back. I feigned sleep, but I heard the bedroom door open. And then I heard to strangled gasp.
I stirred, then there was an "Oh, Molly!" that was so full of anguish it was pitiful.
I stirred again and rolled over to lie on my back and open an eye. It was Peter, standing in the doorway ....no, leaning on the wall by the door. His face was white, his lips were quivering, and his eyes were wide open and staring. He was looking wide-eyed at the bed and its occupants, but he seemed focussed on Molly.
I groaned, "Oh, Fuck!"
Peter's eyes swivelled from Molly to briefly focus on me, "You!.....Chris!....You .... you bastard!"
Molly stirred, and then her eyes opened, she focused slowly, "Wha... Oh! Peter! What are you doing home so early?"
A reasonable question, I thought. But I also thought 'I shouldn't be here.'
Suddenly I felt my whole thought processes shift, from problem to opportunity, I made a show of looking round, "You know what they say, two's company, three's a crowd. Well, we've done the two's company bit. I guess I should leave, I don't want you two to feel crowded."
I threw the quilt back, not only off my naked body, but half off Molly's as well. I wanted him to have no misunderstanding. I hoped he could see the wet patch on the sheets between us as well.
Peter, suddenly bent down and picked up a lacy black thong, he held it out to Molly, "I bought this set for you. You never wore it for me. You told me that only silly young sluts and prostitutes wear things like this." Every word he spoke had pain, humiliation and hurt in it.
I got out of bed. I needed to get dressed quickly. But I wanted to keep my eye on Peter, just in case he tried to take a pop at me. He had his glasses on, so I had hopes that he wouldn't turn violent, but I had to concede he was under some stress. I slipped my shorts and then trousers on.
I risked glancing at Molly. She had pulled the quilt back over herself, but she was watching me. I couldn't read the look in her eyes. It was questioning I think, almost pleading, but I couldn't work it out, and she wasn't saying a word.
I slipped my shirt on, I didn't button it up, I just tucked it into my trousers. I picked up my socks from the floor, and stuffed them into my trouser pockets. I slipped my feet into my shoes and picked up my jacket and tie from a chair where I'd thrown them.
Peter was slumped, still shocked, against the wall. I noticed a tear rolling down one cheek. He was just staring at Molly, who was still looking at me, pleading with her eyes.
I stepped towards Peter. He slightly cringed, as if he was afraid of me. I leant into his face, and quietly, but clearly said, "Matthew 7:12"
I went down stairs and left.
'This is bloody stupid!' I thought, and I smiled wryly to myself. Here I am, the Managing Director of a major local company, and I'm putting on my socks and buttoning up my shirt in some suburban car park, having been caught in bed by the husband. It's a bloody farce!
Then I thought about the last few moments of the scene. I was quite proud of myself that I'd managed to think clearly, and I silently thanked The Old Man for teaching me some Bible quotes. Matthew 7:12, roughly translated as 'Do unto them as you would have yourself be done by.' Well, Peter did unto me, and now he's been done by! And it bloody hurts, doesn't it, Peter?
On Sunday I brought the boys back to my little flat, and I cooked. Well I followed the instructions on the packets, but it was a fairly healthy good meal. The boys seemed really relaxed, and never seemed to question their lifestyle. I guess a lot of their school friends are in similar positions these days. I did start discussing school, and how happy they were and how well they were doing. I was beginning to wonder if I might pay for private education for them, I could easily afford it. I guess I'll have to talk to Molly about it sometime.
It was on Monday evening in the office that things took another turn. I'd noticed that I was beginning to drift into a bad habit of taking too much paperwork home with me. So, I decided that I'd stay in the office until about six thirty or even seven o'clock, and read some there, but then go home with an empty briefcase.
It must have been sometime after six o'clock, Carole had left, and I was sitting at my desk, just writing notes in the margin of a memo when I heard someone coming down the corridor towards my office.
Piers McBaine came through my door. "You bastard! You fucking bastard!"
I stood up and waved him to sit on a sofa. Although he was defamatory in his language, I could see that his eyes were sad rather than angry. I went over and poured us both a whisky, handed him one and sat down in my armchair.
He took the glass, "Whisky? In the office?"
"I keep it especially for people who come through my door calling me a fucking bastard. I get through quite a lot of it." I smiled.
His face softened, and he smiled, "Somehow I doubt that."
We sat and looked at each other for a long moment, "Well, are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?" I asked.
"You'll guess it's about Peter Davies, and the other bit you know."
"Still, tell me."
"He was a sexual predator on attractive women. Your wife was the last in the line." He said it as a matter of fact, rather tersely.
I sipped my whisky, he sipped his, and then looked at his glass, "Lowland?" He looked at me and smiled, "Glenkinchie I think. Good choice."
"I shan't challenge you in a whisky tasting competition."
"Years of practice. But I need a few more years, then I might get to be good at it." He laughed.
I laughed and the atmosphere relaxed, "So tell me, how did you come to this expected conclusion?"
He looked at me, "You knew I would, you set me up. You knew I wouldn't be able to leave it alone, I'd have to know the truth. I'm a researcher, it's what I do."
I shrugged my shoulders, "I let people play to their strengths. I'm a managing director, it's what I do."
He smiled, "Bastard!" We both smiled, "Well, Peter was so guarded about the start of his affair with Molly, so I decided that I had to get him very relaxed if he was to tell me anything."
"Pissed you mean?"
"Yes. I know that Peter can hold his liquor well, but I also know that I can hold mine better. So I told him that I wanted to talk about a lot of Abbey business, off the record, out of the office. I suggested that I'd buy him dinner at the George after Friday drinks, and taxis home. Actually, I think he got Molly to give him a lift in on Friday morning, so he was prepared. Maybe he's being feeling a bit insecure, and was looking forward to a boozy dinner with his boss."
"When he would feel wanted and relaxed."
"Exactly, so after two or three rounds downstairs, I took him upstairs to the restaurant. And we had a bottle of wine with the meal. And then a second bottle. But we did talk, nothing but Abbey business. In fact it was a good talk, we cleared up quite a few genuine issues. Then I ordered a third bottle, and we were both fairly relaxed by then. It was getting late, and they wanted to close the restaurant, but we are so well known there that they just left us to it, in a deserted dining room."
"Go on."
"Well I remarked that I was fairly *****, and that Jeanette would be annoyed with me. And, as drunks do, I suddenly went off into a story about Jeanette. About the moment when I knew, really knew, that I was in love with her. We'd been going out for about eighteen months, and we were in London on a beautiful summer Sunday. We went to Hyde Park and took a rowing boat out on the Serpentine. Well Jeanette, being an independent sort of a girl, insisted on rowing. And she was throwing up so much spray that I was getting soaked sitting in the back of the boat. But it was then that I knew that I just had to spend the rest of my life with this girl, that I loved her. We got engaged about a month later."
"And Peter had to reply."
"Exactly, I asked him when he knew that Molly was the one. And he said, it happened a lot earlier in the relationship. He had been 'working' on Molly for a couple of months, and at last after a lovely lunch, he had got her back to his flat. He had a very smart flat down by the harbourside in those days. And he said he got her to bed for the first time, and they made love. Well, afterwards, she had to get dressed and leave, but he just lay in the bed and knew that he'd met the one for him."
"So, up until he'd seduced her, he didn't love her." I said bitterly.
"I asked: But what about before? And he said he was just busy working on getting into her pants, as he put it. So I asked, well what did you see in her when you first met? And he said with a leer, 'Well you know what I was like in those days, Piers.' I knew I just had to leave, otherwise there would have been a very drunken row very quickly after that."
"Point proven, and from his own lips." I said, vindicated.
"He might argue that it was love at first sight, that he just didn't know it. I think something along those lines is his usual, sober version." Piers observed, taking a sip of his whisky.
I added wryly, "And it doesn't explain why Molly let it happen."
Piers nodded, "No it doesn't. And that does lead me back to Jeanette."
I looked at him and waited for him to continue.
"Jeanette was in bed when I got back, which was probably as well. But on Saturday we talked. You have to understand, Jeanette is a ******** of the manse; her father was a Presbyterian minister. She was brought up with a pretty strict moral code, and now she is so upset with Peter. And I think you made a big impression on her."
"It was the flowers." I said deprecatingly.
"I think it was the sad look in your eyes when you talk about the divorce. And the love in your eyes when you talk about your boys." He paused, "But anyway, she has had a lot of doubts about Molly in all of this, especially since that lunch with her. I think she's been holding it in for my sake. Well now, she doesn't want anything to do with either of them."
"That's sad." I said, and I meant it.
"Well, maybe she'll get over it in time. But, we were meant to be having Peter and Molly to dinner this coming Saturday. So this morning I had to have a very unpleasant interview with Peter, and tell him that they are no longer welcome."
"I'm sorry for you."
"So you should be. My knowing that he was someone who would spark the destruction of a ****** is not what I want to know about my deputy. And I've got to work with him. That's why I'm over here this afternoon. I've been talking about it to Neil in Personnel."
"And what did he say?"
"Personally, I don't think he liked it very much. But he reminded me that I have to find a way of working with him. We can't sack him, he's done nothing illegal. I just don't know how we can get along, and unless Jeanette eases up a bit, I'll be getting hard comments at home. I'll be in the middle."
"I'm sorry. I really am. But Neil's right."
We paused, then he smiled, "Well, I'll live. You must come over to dinner again. Jeanette is even more anxious to see you again now."
After Piers left, I sat in my office thinking things over. I don't know what I felt. I was vindicated, but what good did it do me? Molly must have been totally infatuated by him. In some ways it seemed rather sad that she'd fallen in love with someone who had such dubious morals towards others. I went home feeling slightly deflated.
On Tuesday evening, as I was walking along the street towards a café where I was becoming a regular, Molly phoned me.
"I was wondering if we could meet, sometime soon, please Chris."
I wondered what about, and wondered if I was going to be accused of breaking them up with Piers and Jeanette, another thing I'd done wrong.
"Sure. When were you thinking of?"
"Any chance of a lunch? I'll pay."
"You don't need to do that, I'll happily pay, but I haven't got my diary on me for a weekday lunch. Carole tends to keep it. From memory I think Friday is clear, but I'll have to check in the morning."
"I'll phone you in the office in the morning. Is that OK?"
"Of course it is. Just in case I'm not there, I'll tell Carole to expect your call. Do I get a clue as to what it is about?"
"No, but there is something I need to say, but I'll say it when I see you. But try to leave plenty of time, so that we can relax and talk."
"OK. Speak to you in the morning."
Afterwards, I thought: Well, at least it'll give me a chance to sound her out on private education for the boys.
The next morning, I beat Carole into the office, but Myra was waiting to see me. I waved her into my office and we sat comfortably. She was telling me about the argument that was going on between Franks and ITI HQ as to who was going to pay for the new ITI accounting systems. The Franks team argued they were being imposed by HQ, and should be part of the takeover costs. HQ argued they were improving the current systems and should be borne by Franks.
As we were speaking I heard Carole arrive, and I excused myself from Myra.
I went out to Carole's desk, closing my own office door behind me. "What does the diary look like for Friday?"
"Ah! I've been meaning to talk to you about that. Stephen Hobbs has been on the phone, he wants to know if you'll go to their Planning Meeting in Exeter on Friday."
"Is there anything else in the diary?"
"No. I couldn't put anything else in if you were going to be in Exeter all day."
"Well, phone Stephen and say OK, but only for a short morning. Molly phoned me last night, she wants to see me for lunch one day, and I wondered about Friday."
Carole looked at me, "And what's that about, or shouldn't I ask?"
"I suspect she wants to knock seven bells out of me, because she probably blames me that Piers McBaine and her Peter aren't talking."
I then went on to give her a summary of Piers's news from Monday. At the end, all she said was, "Well, I guess you weren't surprise. And it's hardly your fault that Piers doesn't like the way Peter Davies behaved."
I then continued with trying to sort out Friday, "If Molly phones, tell her that I'll pick her up for lunch at twelve thirty at the hospital. And afterwards, I'll come back here, assuming that she's not actually put me into the hospital. But I may stay out all afternoon anyway, Molly said she may take some time."
I turned to go back to Myra, with a final request, "I've got Myra in there. Any chance of some coffee for us both?"
About an hour later I was still talking to Myra, and enjoying the glimpses I was getting down her blouse, as one button seemed to have come undone, when Carole came in. She brought us a second tray of coffee.
But then Carole looked at me, "I can confirm that Exeter is expecting you just for the morning on Friday. And I've sorted out your lunch. Your guest is coming here for you to go out, at one o'clock."
I smiled at her discretion. "Thanks."
I turned to Myra. "I'm going to Exeter on Friday for their Progress Meeting. Any chance you can join me, and we can start the ball rolling on all the work we've got to do down there in incorporating them into ITI?
Myra looked doubtful, "I've got a lunch up here on Friday. And it may drift into the afternoon..."
"That's fine. I've got to be back for lunch as well. So meet me here at 7:30, and we'll go down in my car, and I can bring you back as well. And we can finish this conversation in the car. How's that?"
"OK" she said, and started tidying her papers.
Later, as I left my office, I stopped at Carole's desk, "Thanks for sorting out Molly. Friday looks very promising, I'm taking Myra down to Exeter for the morning to get her started down there." I smiled, "My two favourite women in one day. One may be my future, and one is definitely my past."
"You fancy Myra? Mmmm, good taste!" was all she said.
On Friday morning Myra was standing just inside the main entrance, and as I pulled up she came out. She was wearing a suit, made up of a long jacket and a short skirt. Those legs were going to be something to admire as we drove along.
The conversation going down to Exeter was all business, a sort of informal progress meeting. I asked if she'd done anything about getting a revaluation of Marston Abbey. "That's why I have to get back, I have lunch with the Planning Officer for the local Council, and an architect that is liked and trusted by the Council." In fact she was making good progress on all the projects that she had under her wing.
The meetings at Franks Engineering went well. I really like Stephen Hobbs, he is very professional, intelligent and quick on the uptake. His whole team are a very likeable bunch, and although we got through a lot of work in the morning, we also laughed a lot.
The journey back was a lot more relaxed. Myra and myself naturally chatted about the Exeter operation on the way back. Both of us were not surprised that TDF had bought them, but we were surprised that the Exeter company was willing to be bought. They had a tidy, profitable operation down there. When business topics were exhausted, Myra and myself just generally chatted. A bit of HQ gossip, world affairs, today's headlines, anything and everything. We really were getting on well. I considered pushing for a date at the weekend, but decided that it was better to write the morning off as a confidence building exercise. There'll be time to pounce later.
Soon we were back at the factory, and I found Molly waiting for me, sitting on the sofa in Carole's office. She stood up as I arrived, I was hit by how nice she looked. Her dress was deep purple wool, pleasantly above the knee and with just an intriguing amount of cleavage showing. She was wearing the pearl necklace that I'd given her on her twenty-first. I kissed her on her cheek and could smell that perfume again. I politely checked that she knew Carole, which was totally unnecessary.
"Just let me dump these papers on my desk.." I said and went into my office.
"Gosh! It's nice in here." She had followed me in, "I saw it once when it was Henri Bauer's office. It was so stark."
I smiled, "I think it's an improvement, but it is really down to Carole."
On the way out I stopped for a word with Carole, "Anything I need to know about?"
"Nothing urgent. Have a nice lunch, and if you don't make it back, well have a nice weekend."
As we sat in the car, we talked about nice, safe, neutral things, amongst which I sang Carole's praises. I was feeling good and pretty relaxed, I'd had a good morning, I was pretty certain I was on track with Myra; it was Friday on what had been a pretty good week overall and I was beginning to feel confidant about running the Company; Peter Davies had got a bit of a comeuppance; it was a lovely spring day and the world was waking up from winter; and I was going to lunch with an attractive woman who had obviously dressed to impress me. OK, there were some question marks and shadows in my life, may be even in this lunch, but things were looking up.
I suggested that I park near the Bristol Old Vic as there were plenty of restaurants in the area, and we could easily find one. I was thinking of going back to that Italian place with the lime green frontage that Keith had introduced me to on my first Sunday. It was relaxed, friendly place, and I knew that Molly loved Italian food.
As we walked up King Street, I began to realise that Molly wasn't anywhere near as relaxed as I was. I began to feel that I was about to get balled out for Peter's problems, and she was building up to give it to me. I asked what she fancied to eat, and she told me that I could choose, so when I got to the lime green monstrosity I started to head her towards the door.
It was as if Molly had a panic attack. Suddenly her face drained of colour, "No, not there. Please not there."
"OK, OK. We'll choose somewhere else. How about that one over the road?"
She seemed to be looking at me with deep suspicion, but I didn't know why, "Yes, anywhere." She answered, sounding relieved.
So we went over the road. It was nice enough, slightly classier if anything than my choice, and was another Italian. Once we were settled at our table, I had to ask, "What's wrong with the one over the road?"
She looked at me, still seeming to search my face for something, "Nothing. I don't particularly like it, that's all, but Peter likes to take me there. Did you know that?"
"How could I?" I could understand now, if she is well known as Peter's wife over the road, I doubted that she wanted to be seen lunching with another man in there.
She smiled, and seemed to relax. I asked her what she would like to drink, and she asked for a gin and tonic. I ordered a bottle of red wine, excusing myself that I was driving, so I'd stick to a couple of glasses of wine. That led me to ask how she got to the factory, was her car parked there? No, she'd come in by taxi, so that she didn't have to go back there after we've finished.
She opened the conversation once the drinks had arrived, "How are you getting on with the boys? They loved going to the rugby."
"Good. You've done a great job in my absence. I haven't really had one awkward moment." I paused, and smiled, "Well maybe a couple, but only because I don't know them as well as I should. Nothing that was their fault."
"They talk about you all the time, especially to Ralph and Susan apparently. They've obviously missed you from their lives. You were very important to them. And you were a good *** before ...." Her voice began to break for a second. But she paused and took a sip of her cocktail, "I remember you were such a good *** for the week before we broke up. You were such a good *** and I was wracked with guilt because of Peter..." Again, she faltered.
I picked up her theme, "I was only putting in a special effort because I was feeling guilty that I'd neglected you all. I guess I had..." Emotion is catching, I found.
We stared at each other in silence. I took a positive decision not to go over old ground, let's get through this lunch without argument or emotion, it should be an opportunity to build a new relationship.
She must have had similar thoughts, because she changed subject, "Have you heard, Peter and Piers McBaine have fallen out?"
I welcomed a change of subject, but not to this one, "I had heard." I answered cautiously.
"Yes, Peter won't really tell me what about. He says it's about morals or ethics or something, and it all happened a long time ago, but although he has changed his ideas since then, he doesn't regret a thing."
I shrugged my shoulders, I certainly wasn't going to enlighten her.
She continued, without me having to say anything, "My guess is that it's something that's upset Jeanette McBaine. Peter and her are always having heated arguments about ethics, especially in scientific research. I don't think they agree on anything. But I'm a bit surprised that Piers has got involved, he's normally a bit like me and stays well out of it."
"That maybe difficult if Jeanette's upset." I cautiously observed.
"Well Peter has strong views. He's on the liberal wing. He believes passionately in the woman's right to choose; on a person's right to die when they don't want to go on living, living wills and all that. And he's very pro embryo and stem cell research."
I began to feel more confidant, "Well, other people can have different views. I've met Jeanette, but we didn't talk about that sort of thing."
"Oh, you've met her, have you? Of course, Piers went with you to the rugby. No wonder she was so interested in you when I had lunch with her the other day. She was nice enough with me, then. So whatever it is that's upset them, it's cropped up since. My guess is that they came across some old scientific journal where Peter had written something that upsets them now, and even he's changed his mind since. I guess it'll blow over."
If that's what she wants to think, well far be it from me...... "I hope so, I wouldn't like to hear that you've lost a friend just because of something Peter did."
"Thank you," she paused and suddenly looked very nervous, "Chris..." again she paused, a long pause and I waited, and suddenly she picked up the menu card, "Let's order."
While we waited for our food to arrive, I observed, "I see Peter's never convinced you to have your ears pierced. I never could."
She smiled, "Have you gone mad? There's no way I'm gong to have anything like that done. Actually, Peter has never mentioned it. He has suggested that I have some therapy to get me over my phobia, but it really isn't a problem. It doesn't interfere with my life, so I'm happy to live with it."
I smiled, "I always wanted to buy you diamond earrings. I don't know why, it was just a fancy of mine, probably because I couldn't really afford them."
"Yes, we were a bit pushed for cash in those early years, weren't we?"
That sounded a bit like dangerous reminiscing again, but I was saved by our food turning up.
While we were eating I raised the idea of privately educating the boys. First, I gently suggested that maybe they could go away to public school when they got to be thirteen. I didn't plunge in with taking them away from their current school to send them to a private preparatory, although Bristol has a good number of those.
Molly was far from against the idea. She did say that Susan would have a problem with it, something that didn't surprise me after my chat with Ralph of a couple of weeks ago.
In the end we agreed that I could make some enquiries of schools, and she would think about it. We would talk again before we said anything to the boys.
We seemed to be a lot more comfortable after that, we were laughing and joking, and she was smiling a lot. I liked that, I always thought that Molly had a special smile.
Then she threatened to spoil it all again, "Chris I wanted to say that when we split up, I didn't say some things that I should have..."
I headed her off at the pass, "Well, it was all a bit emotional, I guess that was inevitable. Given my time over again, I certainly wouldn't have had us break up like that."
She smiled, "How would you have had us break up?"
I didn't answer with the glib reply that I wouldn't have broken up at all, instead I let fly with my romantic imagination, "Oh, I think I would make love to you one last time. In a big bedroom, with curtains gently blowing in a summer breeze. And it would be a big, soft feather bed, all in white. And we would make love, softly and gently, we were good at doing that." I paused to look into her eyes, and to smile, "And afterwards, you would fall asleep, safe and looking beautiful. And the room would be lit by soft pink rays of a setting sun. And I would slip out from under the covers and steal away."
She smiled softly, and there was a tear in her eyes. "I would have been so sad when I woke up and you were gone..."
I put my hand out, across the table, and squeezed hers. We stared into each others eyes, I don't know what she was looking for, I don't even know what I was looking for.
I decided to break the spell before it became embarrassing, "Tell me about your new house, are you pleased with it?"
She sighed, "Yes, it's one of six built in an architecturally designed concept. Doesn't that sound impressive? Actually it means that there are no gardens, it's six houses laid out around an entrance drive, with open grass and trees all around. It's also very eco-friendly, solar panels and heavy insulation, the rainwater is collected, that sort of thing. There's visitor's parking as you come off the main road, you're meant to walk in, and we get garages away from the main site. Peter likes it, he's very big on doing our bit to save the planet."
I smiled, "So am I."
She laughed, "Says he who drives a bloody great Jag."
As our coffee arrived, I changed the subject again, "How are the boys treating Peter these days? I have to admit I haven't raised the subject that they shouldn't get at him, it's still on my list of things to do."
She smiled, "No better. They enjoy taunting him. They've taken to calling him Elsie, any ideas why?"
I stirred my coffee and tried to think of some significance in Elsie. I couldn't think of a thing. I sipped my coffee and looked up at her. "No idea, I give up."
"I can't think of anything. I rather hoped that it was something that they'd learnt from you."
I didn't like that, "Not from me. I wouldn't give them ideas on how to upset your husband. I don't do that." I looked at her, full in the eyes, "I've always respected that you chose him, and I've never done anything to put him down in the boys eyes."
"No, sorry, I know you haven't." She gave a little laugh, "It isn't the same the other way around. The boys know that they are really rattling him by talking about you. That's why I wondered if there was some connection between you and Elsie."
"Sorry, I can't help you."
We both finished our coffees, and I suggested that I pay. She took the opportunity to go to the Ladies. Having paid, I looked at my watch, it was gone half past two. I suddenly realised that Molly had asked for this meeting, and I wasn't aware of what she wanted to talk about, I hadn't spotted anything significant in the conversation. I did notice, somewhat late, that Peter apparently hadn't mentioned his visit to my office, I wondered why?
I thought it might be a good idea to give her a little longer to say whatever it was that was on her mind. So when she came out of the Ladies, I stood and she came straight up to me and kissed me on the cheek. She'd obviously refreshed her perfume, because I got a full, sentimental whiff.
"Thank you, Chris, for a lovely lunch."
"Thank you. Look why don't I give you a lift home? You heard Carole, she isn't really expecting me back, so I'm not worried about time."
She smiled a really radiant smile, "Thank you, that would be lovely."
As we walked back to my car, she held my arm with both her hands, one arm linked around mine, but her other hand right across her body so that she could rest it on my arm. Odd, I thought, going to lunch she was scared to go into a restaurant where she might be recognised, coming back from lunch she's holding me in what some might see as affection.
When we got to the car, I opened her door, and I got a good flash of leg. She's wearing stockings! Lucky Peter, I thought. She only wore stockings for me on special occasions.
Once I was in the car, she settled, very slightly sitting sideways and with her legs towards me. Her skirt had ridden up a bit, the view was of as much leg as Myra had been showing earlier.
I smiled, "You'll have to direct me, I don't actually know how to get to your place."
She sat there giving me directions as necessary, but said little more. But her legs were really beginning to catch my eye and my imagination. What is she playing at? I'd had signals that she was playing to catch me, but that is neither logical nor likely. Everything could be innocent, especially if lover boy Peter had convinced his wife of four years to dress a little sexier. Maybe it was my thoughts about Myra this morning that are making me see things now.
And then there was that she had said she wanted to talk to me about something. No, it was that she wanted to tell me something. Maybe that something was to do with work, but the breakdown between Peter and Piers might have changed that. But she'd only called me after Peter and Piers had had their bust up. These ideas didn't make sense.
None of this was making any sense. I was reading too much into everything. It must just be my imagination.
We were now approaching the outer suburbs, and suddenly she said "Turn right in here." It was a small driveway, "And park on the Visitors area on the left. Sorry, but if you park by our house you can guarantee that one of the neighbours will complain that I let an alien car in. You will disturb the tranquillity of the living environment." She glanced sideways at me and smiled, "Don't say it!"
We got out of the car and Molly led the way through some bushes on a simple path, lit at night by what looked like small solar lights along the edge of the paving.
We suddenly came out of the bushes onto what was a large green lawn, with six houses placed on it at various angles to the small driveway. Molly led me to the second house.
She turned to me, "Would you like to come in for another cup of coffee, and see where the boys actually live."
I guess my doubt showed in my face, "I'm not sure that's a good idea, Molly. I'd love to, but others might misinterpret it.
"Don't be silly. If you're worried about Peter, he won't be home for hours yet. Come on."
She took hold of my hand, and led me onto their porch. Her touch was electric, taking me straight back to my thoughts in the car.
As she found her keys I looked around. What I would think the architect meant to be a garage was slightly separate to the main house, but its rear came up to one side of us and there was a door that opened onto the porch. I was wondering what it could be.
Molly must have noticed, "Obviously, in the original design they were meant to be garages. But then some bright spark decided to put the garages down by the main road. Some people have converted that space to be a granny annexe, others have it as a home office, and one person has it as a workshop where they are building their own boat. For us, it was fitted as a guest suite, but we use the main room as a home gym, and the smaller room is the boys' playroom. Myself and Peter have had to promise never to go in their bit, it is totally theirs. I send in Maria, our cleaning lady, about once a month to keep it basically hygienic, but I honour my promise. But you haven't promised, you could take a look, they're your sons. And you can tell me what its like."
I looked at her, and she nodded her head in the direction of the door. I opened it and went in, and ignoring the gym equipment, I opened the second door. It was a chaos of untidy toys. On the wall was a pinboard. It was half covered in photographs of myself, Molly and the two boys, all of us on what turned out to be our last holiday together. Little did I know then what would follow eight months later.
There was a pile of children's books and magazines. Halfway down the pile, the quality of the volumes seemed to change. I pulled out a magazine from this middle section. It was a Penthouse, about five years old. I put it back.
I turned around. There was a blackboard fixed to the door wall. I read the scribbling, laughed, and went and called for Molly.
"You should break your promise and come in here. It'll solve the mystery of Elsie."
She looked dubious, but she followed me in. I pointed to the blackboard. On it was written: Little Cock, this was written three times. The L and the C were underlined.
I looked at Molly to see if she'd registered, and then explained, "Little Cock. L - C. Elsie. Mystery solved." For a seven and an eight year old, I thought it was quite clever as a piece of wordplay. I was quite proud of my sons.
Molly was less pleased, "But he isn't."
I looked at her.
"He isn't. He's a bit smaller than you. He's average." She said, rather indignantly.
"If he's a little smaller than me, and he's average. Then I'm ..."
"Conceited." She said with a smile. "How am I going to tell him? Well, I'm not."
"It's only playground humour. It's rather clever for boys of their age." I said. It didn't seem to me to be a major issue.
She looked at me, and appeared to be questioning something. But then something changed her mind, and suddenly she looked determined "Well it won't matter anyway. Come on, let's get that coffee." And she led the way into their kitchen.
I stood there whilst she set about making a couple of mugs of coffee, just leaning against the wall and watching her. What is it about certain girls, about sexual attraction, I couldn't help but to compare her to Helene. On all factual scores Helene would have won hands down, but Molly was ten times more attractive. It was the way she moved, the way she dressed, the look in her eyes, the easy smile, just so many things.
She glanced over at me, and smiled. "Why don't you look round. You wanted to see where the boys actually live."
"Are you sure you don't mind? I don't want to seem nosey."
"Go on...... And be nosey."
I left the kitchen and opened another door. It was their lounge. I was a perfectly pleasant, middle class suburban lounge. I noticed a couple of pieces that had come from mine and Molly's old home, but I wasn't surprised, they were small items that I knew Molly particularly liked.
Next I went into their dining room. I wasn't expecting a time warp. It was walking into mine and Molly's dining room of five years ago. Every stick of furniture had been chosen and bought by us. Even the pictures on the walls were ones that had hung in our dining room, in fact the walls themselves were the same colour as we'd chosen for our house back then. A wave of mixed emotions hit me. I sat down on a chair at the table, my old chair at the head of the table. Arguments, hurt, anger, love, anguish, sadness, guilt, all five years old, washed over me.
I was sitting there, staring into space, when suddenly Molly was in front of me. I looked up at her, she smiled, her face was soft, with love in her eyes, or that's what my illusion told me.
"What are you doing, sitting in here? Have you looked at the boys' bedrooms?"
"No. I didn't like to go upstairs."
"I told you: no worries. Come on."
And I followed those legs up the stairs. On the landing, she pointed to two doors, "Those are the boys' rooms."
I went in to the first one, it was obviously Jamie's. I tried to spot why I knew that, but I couldn't actually see a thing that I could identify as Jamie's. I went next door, again it was instantly recognisable as Ben's room, although this time I could see a couple of things that I knew were his.
I came out of Ben's room, and looked at Molly, she was standing beside an open door to one of the other bedrooms. The light was behind her, she looked beautiful. My emotions were in turmoil, I smiled ironically at myself; I should never have come into this house.
I stepped towards Molly, as I got close to her, she moved right up to me. She put her arms up on my shoulders, either side of my neck. And then she leant in, pulled me down to her and kissed me. Full, open lips, a loving kiss, squarely on my lips. I couldn't help but respond, and I felt my cock twitch.
She broke the kiss and looked sideways into the open bedroom. It was obviously the master bedroom, Molly's and Peter's.
"I'm sorry, it's not all white, and in March I don't think we're going to get pink sunlight, but please, Chris. I need you."
I just looked at her, she seemed so beautiful, it all felt so safe after four years of being by myself. Suddenly I felt that, even with Helene, for four years I'd been by myself. Should I run? Should I stay?
"Please, Chris, just this once. Please. Just once. Never again for as long as I'm with Peter. But just this once, please."
I found my voice, "You wanted to talk, not this."
"Now I want this. We'll talk afterwards."
Suddenly my mind was made up. I took her in my arms and kissed her, with every ounce of passion that had remained dormant for four years.
My hands found the zip down the back of her dress. I unzipped her, and slipped it off her shoulders. Unfortunately, it was a long sleeved dress, and it didn't just fall away like dresses do in the movies. But it did allow me to unclip her bra. It was a black bra, all lace and very sexy. She was beginning to be muddled in a pile of loosened clothes.
"Come on." She pulled me into the bedroom. "Let's undress ourselves, and meet in bed. I want you so much, please don't let's waste time, I need you now."
I was standing at the end of the bed, undressing as fast as I could. She was at one side, undressing herself. She was a lot quicker than me because she had hardly got her bra off before she slipped into the bed, and seemed to slip under the quilt. A moment later, as I was finally taking off my last item, my shirt, she sat up, her breasts swinging above the quilt, and she was waving a little black thong in the air.
"Come on, my darling Chris. Now, please."
I slipped into the bed next to her, and for the first time in four years I held the love of my life. As our legs entwined, I felt her stockings, she had kept them on. It felt strange, but erotic.
I kissed her on the lips, and then I moved down her body to hold and kiss her breasts. Having kissed each nipple and played with each nipple with my tongue, I started to kiss my way down her body, intending to tongue worship her pussy. She put her hands on my head, and guided me upwards, "No, just take me, I need you now, please."
I positioned myself between her legs, in good old missionary position, and my cock found her pussy. It slid into a wet welcoming world. She was so wet. For a moment my experiences of so many women in the intervening years went through my head, none had been as wet as this, except maybe for a couple of whores and I suspected them of surreptitiously using a lubricant. No woman had been in so much in need of me as Molly was then.
After a few minutes of gently stroking in and out, she started to roll me. She wanted me on my back, so that she could ride me. I rolled holding myself to her, and keeping her with me, and me inside her. And then she was on top. The quilt was around her, I couldn't see her lower body, but she drove herself with a frenzy.
And then just as suddenly as she'd wanted to be on top, she was rolling sideways again. Soon we were back into the missionary position.
I wasn't going to last much longer, I kissed her lips, her tongue allowing me total access to her mouth. When I lifted my head, she started saying, "Hold me, Chris........ Hold me........Please."
Without missing a stroke, I got my arms around her upper body, holding her tight to me, as I pounded into her. Suddenly she began to shake, and go rigid, "Oh, my God.....my darling Chris." Her pussy spasmed, holding my cock tight, and she orgasmed. I felt her flood onto my cock, and just as suddenly I was coming.
We lay together for several minutes, recovering, with me lying over her. Then I rolled off, giving her a final kiss on the lips.
As I moved back from her, she followed me, holding herself close, and even taking one of my arms and putting it around herself, showing me that she wanted to be held.
We lay like this for a good ten minutes, with me thinking about my day. It had started with my admiring Myra's legs, and now, late in the afternoon, I was in a post-coital hug with my ex-wife. As my brain tried to grasp some meaning, some understanding of this, I idly kissed Molly's forehead with gentle little kisses. Her breathing slowed and steadied, I could feel her breath on my chin and neck.
Then suddenly she stirred, raising herself and leaning right across me, I watched as she set the bedside alarm for 05:00. As she resumed her snuggled position, she kissed me on the lips, "I want to sleep in your arms, but that'll leave plenty of time for a shower and for us to talk." And she settled again, before turning over but still holding onto my arm.
"But don't the boys need collecting from school?"
"No. Susan's collecting them. They'll stay there tonight."
We snuggled into a spoon position, with her holding onto my arm as it was draped over her. I lay there quietly, and soon Molly's breathing became even and steady as she fell asleep.
I tried moving my arm, but even in her sleep Molly just gripped me tighter. I lay there, still trying to understand, going over my lunch with Molly, looking for clues as to why I'd ended up in her bed, beyond the obvious conclusion that I was a randy man who had been feeling that way all day. But why had she suddenly invited me to be here?
I did have one naughty, idle thought: wouldn't it be a pity if Peter came home early! But then, I began to feel sleepy and I think I gently dozed.
I woke up suddenly, something had wakened me. I scrabbled backwards in my mind, trying to recapture the noise. It was outside, it sounded like a door closing, probably a neighbour. I wasn't totally relaxed in a strange bed in a strange house, simple things disturbed me. There it is again, this time I did here a door shut. I looked at the alarm clock beside the bed, it was 04:44. I lay there, listening, hardly daring to breathe.
Now there were footsteps on the stairs. Molly was still sleeping peacefully, but she had relaxed her grip on my arm, so that I could pull it back. I feigned sleep, but I heard the bedroom door open. And then I heard to strangled gasp.
I stirred, then there was an "Oh, Molly!" that was so full of anguish it was pitiful.
I stirred again and rolled over to lie on my back and open an eye. It was Peter, standing in the doorway ....no, leaning on the wall by the door. His face was white, his lips were quivering, and his eyes were wide open and staring. He was looking wide-eyed at the bed and its occupants, but he seemed focussed on Molly.
I groaned, "Oh, Fuck!"
Peter's eyes swivelled from Molly to briefly focus on me, "You!.....Chris!....You .... you bastard!"
Molly stirred, and then her eyes opened, she focused slowly, "Wha... Oh! Peter! What are you doing home so early?"
A reasonable question, I thought. But I also thought 'I shouldn't be here.'
Suddenly I felt my whole thought processes shift, from problem to opportunity, I made a show of looking round, "You know what they say, two's company, three's a crowd. Well, we've done the two's company bit. I guess I should leave, I don't want you two to feel crowded."
I threw the quilt back, not only off my naked body, but half off Molly's as well. I wanted him to have no misunderstanding. I hoped he could see the wet patch on the sheets between us as well.
Peter, suddenly bent down and picked up a lacy black thong, he held it out to Molly, "I bought this set for you. You never wore it for me. You told me that only silly young sluts and prostitutes wear things like this." Every word he spoke had pain, humiliation and hurt in it.
I got out of bed. I needed to get dressed quickly. But I wanted to keep my eye on Peter, just in case he tried to take a pop at me. He had his glasses on, so I had hopes that he wouldn't turn violent, but I had to concede he was under some stress. I slipped my shorts and then trousers on.
I risked glancing at Molly. She had pulled the quilt back over herself, but she was watching me. I couldn't read the look in her eyes. It was questioning I think, almost pleading, but I couldn't work it out, and she wasn't saying a word.
I slipped my shirt on, I didn't button it up, I just tucked it into my trousers. I picked up my socks from the floor, and stuffed them into my trouser pockets. I slipped my feet into my shoes and picked up my jacket and tie from a chair where I'd thrown them.
Peter was slumped, still shocked, against the wall. I noticed a tear rolling down one cheek. He was just staring at Molly, who was still looking at me, pleading with her eyes.
I stepped towards Peter. He slightly cringed, as if he was afraid of me. I leant into his face, and quietly, but clearly said, "Matthew 7:12"
I went down stairs and left.
'This is bloody stupid!' I thought, and I smiled wryly to myself. Here I am, the Managing Director of a major local company, and I'm putting on my socks and buttoning up my shirt in some suburban car park, having been caught in bed by the husband. It's a bloody farce!
Then I thought about the last few moments of the scene. I was quite proud of myself that I'd managed to think clearly, and I silently thanked The Old Man for teaching me some Bible quotes. Matthew 7:12, roughly translated as 'Do unto them as you would have yourself be done by.' Well, Peter did unto me, and now he's been done by! And it bloody hurts, doesn't it, Peter?
