Piers and myself managed to keep off Molly and Peter all the way to our first drink at Piers' Scottish pub. I had put myself in his hands for drinks, and he had decided to give me a single malt tour of Scotland. He started with Bladnoch, which he told me was the most southerly of all the distilleries. I asked about Auchentoshan, which I'd seen on the shelves when I was buying the whisky for my office, but I was very firmly told that it was a Glasgow distillery, and as Piers was an Edinburgh man he didn't talk about that.
After we had toasted Edward's entry into this world, and we stood at the bar sipping the light golden liquor, he looked at me, "You'll be pleased to know that I've already had a word with Peter."
I just raised my eyebrows in askance, and waited.
"When I got back to the Abbey he was still there, so I called him in, and basically told him to get his act together. He admitted that he hasn't been working well. I think he wanted a friend really. My guess is he wanted me to take him around to the George, buy him a pint and let him cry on my shoulder."
"But you didn't?"
"I couldn't. I have this feeling that this is exactly what you said month's ago. That it all started with an immoral act, he chatted up a married woman to get her into bed. And with a pint inside me, and in an informal setting, I think I might have told him." He paused and sipped his whisky. "I do feel sorry for the guy in some ways. He's broken hearted, and it shows, but the only way I can deal with it is as his boss."
"So? What is he going to do?"
"I don't know. They have a small cottage somewhere up in Wales. He's going away there this weekend, I suggested that he takes tomorrow off and does some real thinking. So, we'll find out if he's going to resign or get on with his job on Monday."
I thought about that, and sipped my whisky.
Piers looked at me, "I know you might be pleased to see him go, Chris. But he's bloody good, and I think the company needs him. I hope he comes back and just puts his shoulder to the grindstone."
I smiled, "Actually, so do I." I sighed, "I've got reasons to hate the guy. But I don't want to drive him out of a good job that he does well. Castrate him? Yes. Make him unemployed? No, that doesn't gain anyone anything."
He smiled, "Let's move slightly north, up the west coast I think, and then sit down and get something to eat. I know what I'll be having, but I'll let you choose something other than haggis, if you really must."
He ordered another Scotch, this time from Oban, and we sat down. I happily chose haggis with Piers. I'd eaten it a couple of times before, and I remembered that I quite liked it. Whilst the food was delivered, we talked whisky and food.
When the plates of food were put in front of us, Piers jumped up and went to the bar, returning quite quickly with two more whiskies. "Onward and upward, the Isle of Skye, Talisker." He sat down and looked at me across the table, "OK. You've had long enough. Why did you think you were a really big fucking bastard?"
I smiled at his choice of words, "Well, actually, Peter was right. Or, at the very least, he was right to think what he does."
Piers went on eating for a moment or two, then he put his knife and fork down and looked at me, "You mean Molly loves you?" He searched my face, and obviously read sincerity, "Shit!" again he paused, "What? When? Did she tell you? What happened?"
So I gave him a précis of Molly's confession. I didn't go down the lousy sex life of Peter and her, I wasn't sure why not, but I glossed over that bit. At the end I just looked at him, and he looked back at me. Silence.
Eventually Piers stood up and went to the bar. He returned with two more glasses, "Dalwhinnie. Just over half way up and in the middle. And these are large ones." He sat down and looked at me, he raised his glass, "After that story I need this. I can't imagine how you feel." He paused to look at me again, "How do you feel about it?"
I drank some whisky and watched myself put my glass down, "If I knew that I probably wouldn't be sitting here."
"Well, how do you feel about her?"
I smiled, "If I knew that I probably wouldn't be sitting here."
He smiled, and I added, "I have a huge amount of different feelings for her. I don't think we can put it all back together, but...I don't know. I've had all sorts of thoughts. Last night I was going down a route of wondering if we could put together some new committed but not committed sort of relationship. You know, a large house, each of us with our private areas, and communal areas for the boys. Some sort of arrangement where the boys come first, but that we can each pursue our own private lives." I looked up at him, and saw the look on his face, "Don't worry. The cold light of dawn put pay to that one. But it just shows, I haven't the faintest idea what to do or what to think."
Piers sipped his drink and was obviously thinking, "OK. Let's start at the beginning. Do you accept the idea that her first time with Peter was just an aberration, a moment of passionate madness? That it is something you could forgive and know that it would never happen again?"
I was considering my answer when Piers added, "And how could she ever marry him? And have a happy .. what four, five years of marriage? It just doesn't make sense."
I breathed a sigh of relief, partly because it let me off answering his first question, and partly because it gave me an excuse to tell him about Susan's hand in this. When I finished doing that, Piers again stood up, "The plot thickens. Time to hit Speyside. Let's start down at Dufftown with a Glenallachie." And he was off to the bar again.
When he returned, he held his glass up to silently toast me, "You've one hell of a set of in-laws there." And he smiled. I guess I was getting as inebriated as he was, but it was beginning to show.
Whilst I considered our sobriety a more important question came into my mind, "Do you think that it is possible that Peter and Susan, working in collusion, could have brainwashed her to an extent that she drifted into the marriage? Oh, and by the way, I don't think it was that wonderful in the bedroom department, not from what Molly told me."
Piers was thoughtful for a long moment, and sipped his whisky, "Well, I don't know about that, and I'm not sure I want to know. But as for your question, well I don't know the answer to that either. I think I'd have to sit and think about that. But what about my first question, was the initial incident acceptable...no that's the wrong word, was it forgivable?"
"Well I have a theory about that...."
"Well before you give me your theory, let's move slightly north, but still Speyside." And he was off to the bar again. I looked at my glass, and realised it was empty. The whiskies seemed to be going down quicker now.
On his return, he handed me a glass, "They didn't have any Glen Elgin, which I wanted. So this is Linkwood, still from Elgin." He sat down and prompted me, "OK, what's your theory?"
"Well, I don't believe that it was just two innocent friends going out for lunch. That guy knew exactly what he was doing, and he saw his opportunity. Molly doesn't see it that way, but I'd like to bet...." I paused, "I can't prove any of this, but I bet he made sure that she had as much to drink as she would reasonably take without getting suspicious. Then he got her back to his flat. Then the boiling water episode to give him an excuse to get his kit off. Well, it's funny how it was scalding water and not scalding black coffee that would have stained his nice shirt and trousers. I bet it was only warm water as well. And women react to a good male body just as much as we react to a good female body. It's in our basic instincts."
Piers interrupted me, "As male strip shows for hen nights prove on a daily basis."
I smiled, but continued, "Well you can imagine the scene. He's just in his boxers, right up close behind her. She's had a little too much to drink, and is feeling a bit sexy from just seeing him semi-naked. He has his arms around her, to point out things in the view. His cologne smells good, his body is pressing against hers. I bet there was soft music playing, but Molly didn't mention that."
I paused to sip my whisky. Piers looked at me, "Why do you think he managed to get her to drink too much? How much did she have, did she say?"
"She asked for a gin and tonic. He probably turned that into a large one. Was that the kind gesture of a friend who's seen that she's had a bad morning, or a bachelor on the make? OK, then they have wine, only he has water with his, because he's driving. She's relaxed and there's plenty of wine in the bottle, because he's carefully not drinking his fair share. Then he pushes for a liqueur, Grappa apparently, because neither of them have ever tried it. But he doesn't like it and he palms his off onto her. So, she's not ***** and incapable, but she's had a fair amount, specially as she's not used to drinking at lunchtime."
I looked up at Piers. He was deep in thought. Eventually, he realised that I was looking at him, "Drink up. We'll go a little further north, Glenmorangie I think. Then we'll go back to my place for some coffee and the crowning glory of the evening. I have a bottle of thirty year old Highland Park back there, all the way from the Orkneys. A glass of that will round off the evening nicely."
"OK. But what do you think of my theory? You know him a lot better than I do."
"I'm thinking about it. But I'm thinking about whisky more. Come on, Glenmorangie to toast Edward's head one more time. I'm a grandfather. Isn't that great? Except that I'm married to a grandmother now."
Once we were back at his flat, and he'd made two steaming mugs of the most wonderful, rich dark black coffee. And had poured, with extreme reverence, two glasses of this Orkney's whisky, the name of which I'd already forgotten, we sat in chairs, either side of the fireplace and just looked at each other. The whisky was catching up with us.
I noticed that drinking seemed to have made Piers very quiet and thoughtful, but I hadn't a lot to say. Then he looked at me, "I remember recruiting Peter. I think I told you, I was Deputy in those days. It was the last year that we did a graduate intake in the summer. After that we've always just recruited individuals as we've needed them. I think there were seven in Peter's year. He had his masters, some only had first degrees, but they were a good crowd."
I wondered where this slightly drunken reminiscing was leading. But I couldn't be bothered to ask.
And Piers continued, "Jeanette and myself took them all out on about their third evening. To help them get to know each other, you know the sort of thing. Well we took them down to the Centre, an Italian about a hundred yards up from the Hippodrome, I don't think it's there anymore. Anyway, at the end of the meal, I remember Peter beginning to wax lyrical about the wonders of Grappa. He insisted that he bought everyone a glass of it. Some didn't like it, and I think he must have sunk three or four glasses of the stuff."
There was a long, pregnant pause, as that news sunk in. In the end, I spoke, "He's good. He's very good. The Bastard. The Fucking Bastard."
Piers looked at me, "Yes, he was a fucking bastard." He paused and a look of concern passed over his face, "Drink your coffee, Chris, and ride with it. Don't do anything silly. If it's any consolation, he's paying for it now. I saw him this afternoon, he's totally broken. Justice has been served. He's suffering more than you kicking his balls to pulp would ever do."
"I'm very glad to hear it." I looked at my watch, and then back at Piers. I felt that everything that was going to be said tonight had been said. "My taxi is probably waiting downstairs. Can we talk some more when I'm beginning to get my head around all this. Just talking helps."
He smiled, "Of course. There's several hundred more distilleries to go."
The next morning, Carole served my first coffee with two aspirin sitting on the saucer.
I smiled, "Can't take them yet. I took Alka Seltzer before I left home."
"Did you come to any solution, or learn anything new?" She asked.
"Not really. Except that we came to pretty conclusive proof that Peter Davies set all out to seduce her that first afternoon. It is a pity he succeeded. But you can't rewrite history."
"So, don't try. The future is the only thing you've got to worry about."
That curt advice made me watch Carole as she left my office.
I had a very busy day, all fairly boring, except for having to do my introductory chat for a new sales video we were producing, which was quite interesting and fun.
I got to Ralph and Susan's just before six thirty, to find that they had held up having anything to eat until I arrived. It was just Mum and Len, Ralph, Molly, Ben and Jamie of course. It was agreed that Jamie could open his present from Mum, just so that she could see him open it. It was a true Australian present of a boomerang and a sweatshirt with the slogan written upside down on the front, which amused a nine year old fantastically.
I wanted to ask Molly how the visit to the solicitor had gone. But we were never alone long enough to have a private conversation. A couple of times the grown-ups discreetly withdrew, but as soon as they did, either Jamie or Ben would come bouncing into the room. There was a good side to not being able to talk, I could tell from Molly's eyes, that she was bursting to ask me if I'd decided anything about the future. But, thank Goodness, she never got a chance.
Jamie and Ben were outside, trying to throw the boomerang, when Ralph suggested a birthday photo for Mum to take home. So we gathered in the garden. Ralph took plenty of photo's of Mum with Jamie, and with Jamie and Ben, and with Len. Then she asked for one of Jamie and Ben with myself and Molly.
So we grouped together as a foursome, Molly and myself standing behind the two boys. And just before Ralph pressed the shutter, Molly linked her arm in mine. My reaction was immediate, I just stood aside, disentangling from her. It wasn't a planned or reasoned reaction, it came from within me. How dare she, I haven't agreed to anything, and she certainly has no right to put her arm around mine.
Molly looked at me, very hurt, her eyes filling with tears. And then she resumed her pose and I came back and Ralph took the picture. As soon as he was done, Molly almost ran as she went indoors.
Mum looked at me, "How could you? Go and say you're sorry."
Now I was staring at Mum, and feeling hurt, but all she did was reiterate her view, "Go on. I expect she's gone upstairs to the bedroom."
Have a flaming row with Mum? Or walk out completely? Or at least go and explain myself to Molly? I chose that last option.
I found her, quietly wiping her eyes, sitting on the bed in the small bedroom.
I went and sat beside her, "I'm sorry I reacted that way."
She looked at me, "Doesn't it mean anything to you that I love you? I love you, Chris, and you treat me as if I'm a leper."
"That's unfair. I just don't know what to do. Mum has made it perfectly plain that I'm meant to immediately start planning a June wedding. You look at me with big doe eyes, desperate for me to say something. Len agrees with Mum, and makes no effort to hide it. Your *** is probably the most understanding, but he wouldn't have arranged all this without knowing what he wants. And it's my life. I've had to live it, all by myself for nearly five years now, and I'll make decisions about what I'll do, not a bunch of well-meaning relatives."
"All I did was link arms."
"I know. But it seemed like you were making a claim."
"So, a few weeks ago it was alright to link arms with you as we walked down King Street together, before I told you that I love you. But now it's a terrible sin. Is that it?"
"Yes. There were no life long implications when you did it before. Now it is a claim for the future. So Yes."
I could feel my anger rising. As I'd voiced my problem, it became more understandable and reasonable to me. Why couldn't she see that?
"It was just for a photograph."
"Just like screwing Peter in his flat was just for the afternoon. But you can't say sorry, Oh No. You can't tell me that he means nothing to you, Oh No. He's important to you and you have deep feelings for him." By now I was standing and facing her directly, but my tirade just continued, and my voice rose in volume to match. "And you can't come and see me and explain. No, you'd rather let me divorce you so that you can marry him. But when that doesn't work out, well you can say: Oops Chris, I'm sorry. Really I've loved you all along. So now, my darling Chris, you can take me in your arms and whisk me off into the sunset. Well, I'll tell you what's wrong with it..."
When I started, she looked hurt. Now she looked horrified and was crying.
Not that that stopped me, "What's wrong with it is that I've spent five years out there, in the big nasty wide world. You let me go there, remember? And I've learnt that I come first in my life. I don't have to do what you want me to do. I don't have to do what Mum wants me to do. I'll make up my own mind about my life, thank you. So, you can stop linking your arm in mine until I tell you that I want it there, if I ever do. OK?"
Eventually, as the silence became pervasive, she looked up at me. I looked down on her.
She spoke first, "I'm sorry. I know I have no right. I gave that up, and I was so wrong to do that. And I'm so sorry that I did......"
My anger subsided and I sat down again, but leaving us far enough apart to be clear that this wasn't kiss and make-up.
"I'm sorry, too. I don't mean to shout at you. And, to be honest, it isn't that you put your arm in mine. It really isn't. It's just that everyone seems to know what to do for the best about my life, except for me. I really would like to come to my own conclusions."
Again there was a long pause, then very quietly she asked, "Do I stand any chance?"
"I don't know. For everything I seem to think of, there seems to be an equal and opposite reason why not. If only I could know in my heart what I wanted to do, then I think I could find the reasons why from the story. I think I could justify anything. It seems to be a sort of pick 'n mix. I'm sorry, Molly. You said you'd give me time. I don't know how long I'll need, but I'm not ready yet. I'm not ready to do anything, and I'm not ready to say anything."
Again there was a long pause until I asked, "What did the solicitor say?"
"She remembered me and said: It took me five years to come to my senses. Apparently she knew when we were divorcing that I didn't really want it to happen. I do remember her suggesting once that I oppose it, but I didn't think I had any right to." She paused and half smiled, "Anyway, she's going to write to Peter, very gently, asking what he was going to do. It will be a lot easier if he divorces me. If I divorce him, well my reasons are a lot weaker, and he might oppose it. So we want to encourage him to lead the way. I guess he'll get the letter tomorrow or Monday."
I told her, "He's gone away for the weekend."
She looked at me, questioningly. So I explained, "Piers told me. I'm entitled to know what my staff are doing."
"Sorry. Of course."
Again there was a long silence. Until I decided, "If you're OK, then I think I'll go. Are you OK?"
She looked at me, very sadly, and she sounded sad in her voice, "I'll be fine."
"I'll see the boys on my way out. Is it OK if I have them sometime over the weekend?"
"Of course. How about Sunday from my house?"
"OK. Let's say at noon, and I'll give them lunch."
She nodded, and I left the room quietly. I stood on the landing and composed myself before I went downstairs.
I found everybody in the sitting room. Five pairs of eyes turned to look at me as I came in. Some looked hurt, others were asking questions. I realised that Ben and Jamie both looked hurt. I went over to them and sat down on the floor with them, where they were playing Jenga with Ralph and Len.
I put my arms around both of them, "Mummy will be down in a minute."
Ben looked at me with very hurt but accusing eyes, "You were shouting at her, Daddy."
"Could you hear me? I'm sorry. Mummy said something that upset me, and it was only for a moment."
Jamie looked at me, slightly less hurt, "We couldn't hear what you were saying, but we heard your voice."
I smiled, I hoped I looked reassuring, "Well, don't worry. Mummy's OK, and she'll be down in a minute."
I looked around at the adults. Len seemed neutral, I couldn't work out what Ralph was thinking, but I got the impression I hadn't excused myself with Mum, she was looking at me with half closed eyes, staring intently.
I kissed both Ben and Jamie. "I'll take you to lunch on Sunday. You can think up what you'd like to do on Sunday afternoon, Jamie. Any special birthday treat you like. Now I'm going to go. I've already said goodbye to Mummy."
I stood up, I looked at Ralph, "Thanks for the hospitality, Ralph. I'll talk to you soon."
I looked round at Mum and Len, I went over and kissed Mum, very aware that she still hadn't said a word. "I doubt whether I'll see you again until after you get back from seeing Brian and your holiday in Scotland. So, do have a good time." I kissed her cheek again and headed for my car.
As I got to the front door, I realised that Mum was following me. Len was trailing behind her. I looked at her.
"Go on, out to your car. We can talk outside."
I went out and pulled my car door open, then I turned to Mum. "Don't say it Mum. Don't let's part on a row. Just give Brian my love, and Morag and the children of course, and I'll see you in a couple of weeks." And I kissed her on the cheek for the third time.
I was quite hopeful that she wasn't going to say anything, I was wrong.
"How could you? How could you shout at her? She's doing her best to hold it together. She's made a mess of her life, and now she's turned to the man she loves, the father of her children, and you shout at her and walk away. How could you?"
"I shouted at a woman who was unfaithful to me, who walked away from me, and who's been married to her lover for the last four years. And if you have a problem with that Mum, then you need your head examined."
We stared at each other in a sort of stand-off. I broke the spell to get into my car, and I closed the door and lowered the window. She was still watching me, intently, but I thought with a little doubt in her eyes. Len was still hovering just behind her. Then Ralph came out and looked at me.
Ralph said, "Before you go, Chris, I'd like a word." He looked at Mum.
It was Len who got the message. He took hold of Mum's arm, "Come on Dear. Let's go in and see the boys." And he led her indoors.
As she went through the front door, Ralph turned back to me, "I just wanted to say that I hadn't realised how hard this must be to you, Chris. I once said that I thought Molly was going to ask you to do the hardest thing you'll ever have to do. I thought that that was to try and forgive her. To try to build something new with her."
"I'm sorry, Ralph. I know that's what you want. It's what Mum wants. But...."
"But what I didn't think about is just how hard it must be for you to accept that any of that is even a possibility. I know that when we talked I never heard a word of criticism or recrimination against Molly. That gave me hope. I suppose its part of the reason I engineered all this. But, I didn't listen to everything. I've only just begun to realise you never said a word of anything but that it was all over. However much you had regrets, you never wished to change things. You very firmly accepted that she was gone, that she loved Peter more than you and that was that. I guess it's how you coped. It must be almost impossible to just change your thinking, to understand the options you have."
I looked at him, grateful for his understanding. But I could still feel my disappointment, hurt and anger with Mum coursing through me. "Don't tell me, Ralph. Tell them."
I put the car into reverse and slipped off his drive.
I went home to feeling pretty unsettled all that evening, and only managed a few hours of troubled sleep.
But on the Saturday I was feeling a little more cheerful, when in the middle of the morning my doorbell buzzed, and when I opened it, there stood Mum.
"Mum, I thought you were off to Newcastle to see Brian this morning."
"We are. Ralph is giving us a lift to the airport, and he and Len are downstairs. But I couldn't go without seeing you."
"Then you'd better come in."
We stood facing each other in the living room. She looked at me and just said, "Sorry."
I waited and she went on, "I'm sorry, Chris. Ralph talked last night about some of the conversations you and he had had in the last few weeks. I wasn't here when you and Molly broke up, I heard you on the phone when we talked, but I could never see your face or look into your eyes. I don't think I ever realised how hurt you were. I guess you still are."
I sighed, "Yes I was hurt. Suddenly, out of the blue, I'm told that I'm not wanted. That the life I'd given her wasn't good enough. I think part of my life ended then. Now I'm told it was all a mistake."
I looked at her, there were tears in her eyes, and she stepped up to me and hugged me.
"I know, Chris. I realise now. And I'm sorry. I thought that with a little nagging from an interfering mother, you could just pick up the pieces, and give Jamie and Ben their ****** back. It isn't that easy, I realise that now."
"Oh, Mum. I don't know what to do. I loved my life, my ****** back then. And of course I want Jamie and Ben to have a loving stable ****** around them. But I don't know that I can put it back together with Molly, I don't know that I even want to. If she screwed up, well that's her problem, and she can't expect me to put it right, not after five years of leaving me with all those hurts, doubts, insecurities. All those sleepless nights in miserable rented flats, drinking too much and picking up the wrong sort of girls. I can't just forget all that. It wouldn't work for me, and it certainly wouldn't give Jamie and Ben the ****** they deserve."
"Why not sit down and talk to her? At least try...."
"I just don't think there is any point. It seems cowardly and callous to just walk away, but maybe that would be for the best."
"I don't think you're a coward, and I certainly don't think you're callous. But I do think you're scared, and I don't know what I can do give you the strength...."
"It's not a matter of strength, Mum. What is the point of giving Molly hope, of giving Jamie and Ben hope, when it's never going to work? I just don't know how to try, I don't know if it's worth trying...."
"Do you still love her, even a little bit?"
"I don't even know the answer to that. I've trained myself for nearly five years not to think of her in that way. I just couldn't allow myself to do so. I had to move on, I had to build myself a new life, a different way of thinking. I've always known that I did love her, and that I loved the life we had. But memories of what we once had are no good for the future....I just don't know. And everyone seems to be waiting for me to announce some decision, and I have no idea what my decision is, or even what it's meant to be. I don't even know what is right anymore."
"Then do nothing until you do know. And the rest of us will just have to wait."
I looked at her, her eyes were softer and kinder than they'd been for the whole of this trip. Suddenly I was a little boy looking into my mummy's eyes. I kissed her on the forehead. "You ought to go. Len and Ralph are waiting...."
"Let them wait. We'll all wait. I'm not leaving here until I know you'll be alright."
I kissed her again and sighed, "Would you like a coffee? I could take Len and Ralph a mug each if I make some."
"No thank you. But I might like a glass of water. I'm not used to all this maternal emotion, I'm a bit out of practice." She said as she wiped her eyes on a little lace edged handkerchief.
When I came back from the kitchen with a glass of water she was sitting on the sofa. She looked up and took the glass, "I'm very proud of my sons. Of both you and Brian. Who would have thought that a widow of a railwayman could bring up a university lecturer, maybe a professor soon, and a businessman who is a managing director." She smiled, "But you are still my boys. And I hope you still remember some of the things I taught you. About always making sure you do the right thing?"
I sat down in a chair opposite her, "I hope so, Mum. I try to do the right thing most of the time."
"Well, promise me something. I'll wait, we'll all wait as long as you like. And don't worry about whether what you do is callous or kind, cowardly or brave. Just promise me that you'll be able to look me in the eye and say you did the right thing. Right for you and right for Jamie and Ben. And if it can be right for Molly, well that'd be a bonus."
I smiled, "Mum, that's exactly what I want to do. I just haven't the faintest idea what it is."
"Well if you want to talk about it, you've got me and Len and Ralph and I'm sure lots of others. You could come up to Newcastle and talk to Brian if you wanted to. And you could always talk to Molly, she isn't stupid, she'll understand."
We just sat and looked at each other in silence, until Mum said, "I must go....." and two minutes later she was gone.
I made myself a mug of coffee, and I felt relaxed and pleased. I knew that, given time, I would come to a good solution, and I felt that the pressure was off. Well, off from everybody except Molly. I knew she was willing me to try and build some relationship with her with every breath she took.
In the afternoon I traipsed the shops, looking for something to buy Jamie. Once upon a time, I used to be able to chat to Molly in the evening about the boys and what they might want as a present, and then she'd go and actually buy the present from both of us. Then there was my period of travelling and living abroad, when I could rely on Internet shopping. Now I have to do it all for myself.
Standing in a bookshop I had the idea of giving him some Harry Potter books, surely he's just about coming to the right age. But, I don't know if he has any already, or whether he's read any. I know that I have to phone Molly, but I'm scared of letting the conversation wander. Eventually I made the call, and I'm successful in keeping it purposeful and to the point. And the present problem is solved. Jamie's getting all the Harry Potter books, in hardback. But then I went and bought an Ipod for him, just in case the books didn't go down too well.
Back at my flat I gift wrapped the presents, and I felt good. I was relaxed about Molly, the right answer would come to me in time. And I felt good about Mum and the rest of them, they could just wait. I decided to go out for the evening and enjoy myself. I knew what I really wanted, and that was to get laid. Healthy, uncomplicated, straight sex, and plenty of it.
I first tried one of the bars near me and the University. The scenery was good, there were plenty of twenty year old girls around, some of them very attractive. There was one group of four sitting at a table in the pub and all making sideway glances at me as I sat at the bar. A couple of them gave me surreptitious smiles when I caught them watching me. I guess I stood a fair chance of picking one of them up, I was a decent looking guy, dressed quiet expensively, and with a nice car and a nice flat just up the road. I couple of years ago, pre-Helene, I wouldn't have hesitated. In fact I had several memories of doing just that. But now, the better behaved me felt it was wrong. It would be cradle snatching, and using them for my own selfish purposes.
What I wanted was a slightly more mature woman, but not too mature, who knew the rules of the game. That this was to be a healthy one night stand, with cheerful goodbyes in the morning. So, when I finished my beer I moved on.
I wondered where there was a nightspot for the single thirty somethings, there must be one in a city of this size; I just didn't know where it was. So, I thought of hailing a taxi, and relying on the driver to know, but I couldn't see a taxi. I walked down the road, and as I was approaching the Centre, I realised that I'd be passing the Marriott Royal Hotel very soon, and they were sure to have a taxi rank. But then I thought: a hotel! That's what I need, the perfect place to find a lonely business woman looking for company. And I was good at picking up women in hotel bars, I'd had plenty of practice in my bad years. But not the Royal, it's too classy, and I might become known there as MD of Franks. So, I walked on until I found what I was looking for, the non-descript good class business hotel. And eventually I found one. I couldn't tell you which chain, they all look the same, and sometimes the actual building changes from one chain to the next in some property shuffle without anyone noticing.
I sat at the bar and looked around. It wasn't particularly crowded, but I guess these hotels do there trade mid-week with business visitors. It's why they offer cheap weekends to private visitors, because they can't fill the rooms with full price company expensed clients. There were three couples scattered around the tables. And a large mixed group, I would guess some ****** reunion. There was one woman sitting by herself, but she was seriously intent on reading a whole load of business papers spread out in front of her. At a couple of tables there were businessmen drinking and talking seriously, and about four guys like me, drinking at the bar. And one very attractive girl, late twenties and dressed very attractively. She was sitting at a table by herself, and she seemed to be watching the room. Maybe she was waiting for someone, maybe she was a professional working the bar. I sipped my drink and watched her.
She was perfect. The clothes were expensive, but just slightly too sexy. The make up was perfection. The hair stylish and beautifully cut, and had a habit of falling across her face in a very attractive way. She was sipping a glass of mineral water or maybe a vodka and tonic. It had a slice of lemon, and was clear and bubbly.
She was definitely checking out the guys, including me. She seemed to like what she saw and gave me a half smile. I came to the conclusion she was a professional, not that it worried me. I'd paid for it before, and there was no reason why I couldn't pay for it again.
She checked her watch and then looked up at me. She smiled again and stood up and started walking towards me. She definitely was a professional. Amateur innocent girls don't approach another man when there date doesn't turn up on time. I half turned to await her arrival. Then this red faced man in his mid-forties suddenly cut between us. I heard him say, "Fiona? I'm sorry I'm a bit late. I had trouble getting away." And he sort of held her proffered hand, but leant in to kiss her on the cheek.
She looked at me, and the look said it all: Sorry, but business is business. I silently toasted her with my glass as he led her away. So close and yet so far.
I looked around the room, just to see if anyone else had seen that little drama unfold. No one seemed to. The lone business woman was steeped in reading her papers. Others just carried on drinking and talking. I recognised the collection of papers she was reading. There were the published accounts of some company. A set of brochures in the colours of the rainbow. Some computer print-outs that looked like spreadsheet prints, a file of correspondence and a very different document, in a different style and binding. My guess was that was the proposal or terms of reference or quote for an assignment. As I was looking at this collection I didn't notice she was looking at me. As I raised my sight, our eyes met.
"Looks like the briefing papers for a new assignment." I said with a smile.
She was older than me by a couple of years, maybe more if she'd looked after herself. Her face had a hardness to it, but she was attractive enough, just not my type.
She smiled back, "I start on Monday. Huddersfield, I'm driving up tomorrow."
"That's a bit cruel. Keeping you here for the weekend, and not letting you go home for some respite before you start. Would you like a drink, by the way?" Talking to her was easier than drinking alone.
"Thank you. A glass of dry white, please. My name's Angie."
I stood up and went over and shook her hand. "And I'm Chris." I turned back to the bar and got her the wine.
We got chatting, it turned out that she was a management consultant who had been on assignment in Bristol for the month. I asked why she hadn't gone home for the weekend, and it seemed that she was divorced with one grown up ******** away at university, so there was no one to go home for. As she said, "I've been here for four weeks, and I've worked the last two weekends, so I thought it would be nicer to see Bristol for a day and travel up north tomorrow, rather than make a fleeting visit to an empty flat in London."
I looked at some of her papers for the new assignment. The company name meant nothing to me, they were into agricultural land management. But I did notice that they had too much investment in plant on which they were getting an inadequate return. I think she was quite impressed by that.
We had another drink each, and then I asked her if she'd eaten. No she hadn't, and nor had I, so I invited her to go out for a meal, "Nothing heavy. A Chinese or Indian or something?"
"I saw a Thai restaurant down the road that looked nice." Was her acceptance.
As we ate we went on talking. She told me that her ******** was not the result of her marriage, but of a relationship when she was much younger. I looked at her, I think my original estimate was about right, late thirties.
She did wonder if the lack of children in the marriage had been part of its downfall. Apparently she'd been divorced a couple of years. She said she wasn't too surprised at the break up, it had been pretty rough for the last couple of years. And although the final straw had been discovering that he was having an affair, she thought that it was probably the result of a failed marriage rather than the cause of it.
I told her I had been divorced for four years, so I had some idea what she was going through.
She looked thoughtful for a moment, "It's odd. I'm not surprised we were divorced, but it still totally destroyed me. I was so angry, not at him, but at myself. I'd hung in there, hoping that things would get better, but he'd realised there was no future and had looked after himself. I was a fool."
"I think at some level we always blame ourselves. I know I did, although I didn't know what I'd done wrong. How were you in the months afterwards?"
She looked at me, weighing up her possible answers, "I made a total fool of myself. I didn't realise it at the time, but I became the easiest girl in the company. Oh, they had to buy me a dinner, or better still dinner and theatre, but they were onto a dead cert as to how the evening would end. All sorts, young, old, married or single. I just craved wanting to be wanted."
"I know the feeling. In my way I was much the same." I said, thinking back to my bad years.
She sipped her wine, thoughtfully, "Well, I slowly began to realise that I was the subject of company gossip, and not very flattering gossip at that. So, I changed my job, became a consultant and live my life on the move. It's shallow and unsatisfactory, but it'll do for the time being."
Again, I smiled, "I went through that phase too. Are you in control now?"
"Oh Yes. Total control. £250 per night, I never pay more than £500, but I have to pay for dinner on top of course. Does that shock you? That I pay for sex."
"No. I've done it myself. It's an easy, manageable solution." I paused, "In fact, for the first time in a couple of years, I was just about to pay for it tonight. Did you see the hooker in the bar just now?"
"Was she a hooker?" She shrugged, "I guess she could have been."
"I'm pretty sure she was. But her client turned up just in time, just before I negotiated my own deal. Do you think I would have got it cheap as a late booking?"
She laughed, then she looked appraisingly "So you're feeling horny, are you?"
I waited, suddenly having to decide if I liked where this turn of the conversation could be leading.
She continued, "We could both save some money tonight."
I laughed, and thought: What the Hell....? "And management consultants, or even ex-consultants, should stick together, help each other out in a time of need, professional courtesy and all that..."
We both laughed and knew what was going to happen, and more important, knew the rules of the game.
We went back to her hotel. It all seemed a bit odd in some ways. There was this clinical commitment that we were going back for sex, just like with a hooker. Only she wasn't a hooker, she was a bright intelligent lady. But it was also that she was older than me, albeit only by a few years, but in all my travels I'd never made it with an older woman. Well, I was going to that night.
Around ten o'clock on Sunday morning I could be seen leaving the hotel, freshly showered but unshaven. And I felt great. The sex with Angie had been exactly what I needed, hot sweaty, hard, straight sex. Early on she told me that she didn't do oral, so I couldn't see any reason why I should either. And as she didn't do oral I didn't bother to ask or hint about anal. So it was just straight sex, twice last night and two more times this morning. I actually ran out of condoms, but I should have known, Angie had one in her toilet bag.
As I walked up the road to my flat I felt relaxed. I'm sure other people noticed me smiling at them and saying "Good Morning" to them all. Every ounce of sexual tension was gone. And so was all my other frustration and fear about Molly. I knew, I just knew, that the right answer would come to me.
I filled my morning with nothing more strenuous than a light breakfast with gallons of coffee, and a thorough reading of the Sunday paper. And at 11:59 I was knocking at Molly's door.
She answered the door with a smile, and got a very cheerful Hello from me.
"Come in for a minute, they are just getting themselves ready."
I strolled through to their kitchen, whilst she went upstairs to chase up the boys. She found me looking at the view from their kitchen window, and whistling cheerfully.
"You sound cheerful."
"I am. Life is pretty good, and it's a lovely day, and I'm just relaxed and enjoying it."
She half laughed, "Can I have some of whatever you're on, I could do with it."
I looked at her and she did look tired and had a weariness about her. There was a time when I would have given her a hug and a kiss and cheerfully patted her bottom and told her that I loved her and that whatever the problem was, it would pass. But, not this morning.
Instead, I just said, "I've come to the conclusion that things will work out. I don't know how, or even when, but they'll sort themselves out. We've got plenty of time, and in the meantime you must just get yourself divorced from Peter. Putting right that wrong is totally within your power."
"That's important to you, isn't it? To me it's just a bit of paper work. A process of getting the right ticks in the right boxes. The future is far more important than the past."
Just then two boys came bursting into the room, and the conversation was dropped.
We said our farewells, and I got them into the car. Over lunch I asked Jamie what he wanted to do for the afternoon, and I was told, "Go to the Zoo."
So, off to Bristol Zoo we went. I think we all had a thoroughly good time, but in the middle of the afternoon, whilst we stopped for a drink, Jamie announced that "This isn't the zoo I meant."
"Well, it's the only zoo that Bristol's got. Sorry about that. Which zoo did you mean?"
"Well, a long time ago, Peter won some tickets to go to a big zoo. Do you remember, Ben?" Ben shook his head, and Jamie went on, "We drove through fields with lions and giraffes and things in. And we went on a boat where they fed the seals." He turned to his brother, "You must remember, Ben. It was before Mummy and Peter were married."
Ben shook his head. "I remember Mummy getting married, but I don't remember that."
I felt an emptiness in my stomach. Ben may not be able to remember it; I wasn't sure I wanted to know about it. I smiled and said, "I'll ask Mummy."
When we got back to Molly's, she was waiting for us. The boys ran in, with Jamie asking "What's for tea?"
I looked at Molly, "Don't let them kid you. They've just eaten burgers and fries about half and hour ago."
She smiled, "Well, it sounds as if you all had a good time. Since you've been back in Bristol and have been taking them out, I'm sure their intake of burgers and pizzas has gone up. I should start warning you about keeping them on a healthy diet."
"It won't do them too much harm to eat a burger once in a while. But, I agree with you and I will watch it. Have you got a couple of minutes?"
"Sure." She said, and opened the door and led the way to the kitchen.
"It's just that I thought I might take the boys and you out to dinner on Tuesday, on Jamie's birthday. Nothing grand, just some ****** type restaurant somewhere." I looked at her and smiled, "With salad on the menu."
"I'm not that bad. And it would be lovely. But it is a school night, so they can't be late."
"Well, if I'm here to pick you up at six, say?"
"That would be fine." Suddenly her eyes misted over, "It'll be nice to go out as a ******. Thank you."
"You said I was in a good mood, and I just thought of it."
She half smiled, "What did you do last night? It's just that the only time I ever knew you that relaxed on an ordinary Sunday, with you whistling especially, was if on the Saturday night..."
She glanced at me, and maybe I looked a bit guilty. I tried covering myself, "What?"
She looked away, "Nothing. It doesn't matter..."
I kissed her on the cheek, and left her, deliberately whistling.
After we had toasted Edward's entry into this world, and we stood at the bar sipping the light golden liquor, he looked at me, "You'll be pleased to know that I've already had a word with Peter."
I just raised my eyebrows in askance, and waited.
"When I got back to the Abbey he was still there, so I called him in, and basically told him to get his act together. He admitted that he hasn't been working well. I think he wanted a friend really. My guess is he wanted me to take him around to the George, buy him a pint and let him cry on my shoulder."
"But you didn't?"
"I couldn't. I have this feeling that this is exactly what you said month's ago. That it all started with an immoral act, he chatted up a married woman to get her into bed. And with a pint inside me, and in an informal setting, I think I might have told him." He paused and sipped his whisky. "I do feel sorry for the guy in some ways. He's broken hearted, and it shows, but the only way I can deal with it is as his boss."
"So? What is he going to do?"
"I don't know. They have a small cottage somewhere up in Wales. He's going away there this weekend, I suggested that he takes tomorrow off and does some real thinking. So, we'll find out if he's going to resign or get on with his job on Monday."
I thought about that, and sipped my whisky.
Piers looked at me, "I know you might be pleased to see him go, Chris. But he's bloody good, and I think the company needs him. I hope he comes back and just puts his shoulder to the grindstone."
I smiled, "Actually, so do I." I sighed, "I've got reasons to hate the guy. But I don't want to drive him out of a good job that he does well. Castrate him? Yes. Make him unemployed? No, that doesn't gain anyone anything."
He smiled, "Let's move slightly north, up the west coast I think, and then sit down and get something to eat. I know what I'll be having, but I'll let you choose something other than haggis, if you really must."
He ordered another Scotch, this time from Oban, and we sat down. I happily chose haggis with Piers. I'd eaten it a couple of times before, and I remembered that I quite liked it. Whilst the food was delivered, we talked whisky and food.
When the plates of food were put in front of us, Piers jumped up and went to the bar, returning quite quickly with two more whiskies. "Onward and upward, the Isle of Skye, Talisker." He sat down and looked at me across the table, "OK. You've had long enough. Why did you think you were a really big fucking bastard?"
I smiled at his choice of words, "Well, actually, Peter was right. Or, at the very least, he was right to think what he does."
Piers went on eating for a moment or two, then he put his knife and fork down and looked at me, "You mean Molly loves you?" He searched my face, and obviously read sincerity, "Shit!" again he paused, "What? When? Did she tell you? What happened?"
So I gave him a précis of Molly's confession. I didn't go down the lousy sex life of Peter and her, I wasn't sure why not, but I glossed over that bit. At the end I just looked at him, and he looked back at me. Silence.
Eventually Piers stood up and went to the bar. He returned with two more glasses, "Dalwhinnie. Just over half way up and in the middle. And these are large ones." He sat down and looked at me, he raised his glass, "After that story I need this. I can't imagine how you feel." He paused to look at me again, "How do you feel about it?"
I drank some whisky and watched myself put my glass down, "If I knew that I probably wouldn't be sitting here."
"Well, how do you feel about her?"
I smiled, "If I knew that I probably wouldn't be sitting here."
He smiled, and I added, "I have a huge amount of different feelings for her. I don't think we can put it all back together, but...I don't know. I've had all sorts of thoughts. Last night I was going down a route of wondering if we could put together some new committed but not committed sort of relationship. You know, a large house, each of us with our private areas, and communal areas for the boys. Some sort of arrangement where the boys come first, but that we can each pursue our own private lives." I looked up at him, and saw the look on his face, "Don't worry. The cold light of dawn put pay to that one. But it just shows, I haven't the faintest idea what to do or what to think."
Piers sipped his drink and was obviously thinking, "OK. Let's start at the beginning. Do you accept the idea that her first time with Peter was just an aberration, a moment of passionate madness? That it is something you could forgive and know that it would never happen again?"
I was considering my answer when Piers added, "And how could she ever marry him? And have a happy .. what four, five years of marriage? It just doesn't make sense."
I breathed a sigh of relief, partly because it let me off answering his first question, and partly because it gave me an excuse to tell him about Susan's hand in this. When I finished doing that, Piers again stood up, "The plot thickens. Time to hit Speyside. Let's start down at Dufftown with a Glenallachie." And he was off to the bar again.
When he returned, he held his glass up to silently toast me, "You've one hell of a set of in-laws there." And he smiled. I guess I was getting as inebriated as he was, but it was beginning to show.
Whilst I considered our sobriety a more important question came into my mind, "Do you think that it is possible that Peter and Susan, working in collusion, could have brainwashed her to an extent that she drifted into the marriage? Oh, and by the way, I don't think it was that wonderful in the bedroom department, not from what Molly told me."
Piers was thoughtful for a long moment, and sipped his whisky, "Well, I don't know about that, and I'm not sure I want to know. But as for your question, well I don't know the answer to that either. I think I'd have to sit and think about that. But what about my first question, was the initial incident acceptable...no that's the wrong word, was it forgivable?"
"Well I have a theory about that...."
"Well before you give me your theory, let's move slightly north, but still Speyside." And he was off to the bar again. I looked at my glass, and realised it was empty. The whiskies seemed to be going down quicker now.
On his return, he handed me a glass, "They didn't have any Glen Elgin, which I wanted. So this is Linkwood, still from Elgin." He sat down and prompted me, "OK, what's your theory?"
"Well, I don't believe that it was just two innocent friends going out for lunch. That guy knew exactly what he was doing, and he saw his opportunity. Molly doesn't see it that way, but I'd like to bet...." I paused, "I can't prove any of this, but I bet he made sure that she had as much to drink as she would reasonably take without getting suspicious. Then he got her back to his flat. Then the boiling water episode to give him an excuse to get his kit off. Well, it's funny how it was scalding water and not scalding black coffee that would have stained his nice shirt and trousers. I bet it was only warm water as well. And women react to a good male body just as much as we react to a good female body. It's in our basic instincts."
Piers interrupted me, "As male strip shows for hen nights prove on a daily basis."
I smiled, but continued, "Well you can imagine the scene. He's just in his boxers, right up close behind her. She's had a little too much to drink, and is feeling a bit sexy from just seeing him semi-naked. He has his arms around her, to point out things in the view. His cologne smells good, his body is pressing against hers. I bet there was soft music playing, but Molly didn't mention that."
I paused to sip my whisky. Piers looked at me, "Why do you think he managed to get her to drink too much? How much did she have, did she say?"
"She asked for a gin and tonic. He probably turned that into a large one. Was that the kind gesture of a friend who's seen that she's had a bad morning, or a bachelor on the make? OK, then they have wine, only he has water with his, because he's driving. She's relaxed and there's plenty of wine in the bottle, because he's carefully not drinking his fair share. Then he pushes for a liqueur, Grappa apparently, because neither of them have ever tried it. But he doesn't like it and he palms his off onto her. So, she's not ***** and incapable, but she's had a fair amount, specially as she's not used to drinking at lunchtime."
I looked up at Piers. He was deep in thought. Eventually, he realised that I was looking at him, "Drink up. We'll go a little further north, Glenmorangie I think. Then we'll go back to my place for some coffee and the crowning glory of the evening. I have a bottle of thirty year old Highland Park back there, all the way from the Orkneys. A glass of that will round off the evening nicely."
"OK. But what do you think of my theory? You know him a lot better than I do."
"I'm thinking about it. But I'm thinking about whisky more. Come on, Glenmorangie to toast Edward's head one more time. I'm a grandfather. Isn't that great? Except that I'm married to a grandmother now."
Once we were back at his flat, and he'd made two steaming mugs of the most wonderful, rich dark black coffee. And had poured, with extreme reverence, two glasses of this Orkney's whisky, the name of which I'd already forgotten, we sat in chairs, either side of the fireplace and just looked at each other. The whisky was catching up with us.
I noticed that drinking seemed to have made Piers very quiet and thoughtful, but I hadn't a lot to say. Then he looked at me, "I remember recruiting Peter. I think I told you, I was Deputy in those days. It was the last year that we did a graduate intake in the summer. After that we've always just recruited individuals as we've needed them. I think there were seven in Peter's year. He had his masters, some only had first degrees, but they were a good crowd."
I wondered where this slightly drunken reminiscing was leading. But I couldn't be bothered to ask.
And Piers continued, "Jeanette and myself took them all out on about their third evening. To help them get to know each other, you know the sort of thing. Well we took them down to the Centre, an Italian about a hundred yards up from the Hippodrome, I don't think it's there anymore. Anyway, at the end of the meal, I remember Peter beginning to wax lyrical about the wonders of Grappa. He insisted that he bought everyone a glass of it. Some didn't like it, and I think he must have sunk three or four glasses of the stuff."
There was a long, pregnant pause, as that news sunk in. In the end, I spoke, "He's good. He's very good. The Bastard. The Fucking Bastard."
Piers looked at me, "Yes, he was a fucking bastard." He paused and a look of concern passed over his face, "Drink your coffee, Chris, and ride with it. Don't do anything silly. If it's any consolation, he's paying for it now. I saw him this afternoon, he's totally broken. Justice has been served. He's suffering more than you kicking his balls to pulp would ever do."
"I'm very glad to hear it." I looked at my watch, and then back at Piers. I felt that everything that was going to be said tonight had been said. "My taxi is probably waiting downstairs. Can we talk some more when I'm beginning to get my head around all this. Just talking helps."
He smiled, "Of course. There's several hundred more distilleries to go."
The next morning, Carole served my first coffee with two aspirin sitting on the saucer.
I smiled, "Can't take them yet. I took Alka Seltzer before I left home."
"Did you come to any solution, or learn anything new?" She asked.
"Not really. Except that we came to pretty conclusive proof that Peter Davies set all out to seduce her that first afternoon. It is a pity he succeeded. But you can't rewrite history."
"So, don't try. The future is the only thing you've got to worry about."
That curt advice made me watch Carole as she left my office.
I had a very busy day, all fairly boring, except for having to do my introductory chat for a new sales video we were producing, which was quite interesting and fun.
I got to Ralph and Susan's just before six thirty, to find that they had held up having anything to eat until I arrived. It was just Mum and Len, Ralph, Molly, Ben and Jamie of course. It was agreed that Jamie could open his present from Mum, just so that she could see him open it. It was a true Australian present of a boomerang and a sweatshirt with the slogan written upside down on the front, which amused a nine year old fantastically.
I wanted to ask Molly how the visit to the solicitor had gone. But we were never alone long enough to have a private conversation. A couple of times the grown-ups discreetly withdrew, but as soon as they did, either Jamie or Ben would come bouncing into the room. There was a good side to not being able to talk, I could tell from Molly's eyes, that she was bursting to ask me if I'd decided anything about the future. But, thank Goodness, she never got a chance.
Jamie and Ben were outside, trying to throw the boomerang, when Ralph suggested a birthday photo for Mum to take home. So we gathered in the garden. Ralph took plenty of photo's of Mum with Jamie, and with Jamie and Ben, and with Len. Then she asked for one of Jamie and Ben with myself and Molly.
So we grouped together as a foursome, Molly and myself standing behind the two boys. And just before Ralph pressed the shutter, Molly linked her arm in mine. My reaction was immediate, I just stood aside, disentangling from her. It wasn't a planned or reasoned reaction, it came from within me. How dare she, I haven't agreed to anything, and she certainly has no right to put her arm around mine.
Molly looked at me, very hurt, her eyes filling with tears. And then she resumed her pose and I came back and Ralph took the picture. As soon as he was done, Molly almost ran as she went indoors.
Mum looked at me, "How could you? Go and say you're sorry."
Now I was staring at Mum, and feeling hurt, but all she did was reiterate her view, "Go on. I expect she's gone upstairs to the bedroom."
Have a flaming row with Mum? Or walk out completely? Or at least go and explain myself to Molly? I chose that last option.
I found her, quietly wiping her eyes, sitting on the bed in the small bedroom.
I went and sat beside her, "I'm sorry I reacted that way."
She looked at me, "Doesn't it mean anything to you that I love you? I love you, Chris, and you treat me as if I'm a leper."
"That's unfair. I just don't know what to do. Mum has made it perfectly plain that I'm meant to immediately start planning a June wedding. You look at me with big doe eyes, desperate for me to say something. Len agrees with Mum, and makes no effort to hide it. Your *** is probably the most understanding, but he wouldn't have arranged all this without knowing what he wants. And it's my life. I've had to live it, all by myself for nearly five years now, and I'll make decisions about what I'll do, not a bunch of well-meaning relatives."
"All I did was link arms."
"I know. But it seemed like you were making a claim."
"So, a few weeks ago it was alright to link arms with you as we walked down King Street together, before I told you that I love you. But now it's a terrible sin. Is that it?"
"Yes. There were no life long implications when you did it before. Now it is a claim for the future. So Yes."
I could feel my anger rising. As I'd voiced my problem, it became more understandable and reasonable to me. Why couldn't she see that?
"It was just for a photograph."
"Just like screwing Peter in his flat was just for the afternoon. But you can't say sorry, Oh No. You can't tell me that he means nothing to you, Oh No. He's important to you and you have deep feelings for him." By now I was standing and facing her directly, but my tirade just continued, and my voice rose in volume to match. "And you can't come and see me and explain. No, you'd rather let me divorce you so that you can marry him. But when that doesn't work out, well you can say: Oops Chris, I'm sorry. Really I've loved you all along. So now, my darling Chris, you can take me in your arms and whisk me off into the sunset. Well, I'll tell you what's wrong with it..."
When I started, she looked hurt. Now she looked horrified and was crying.
Not that that stopped me, "What's wrong with it is that I've spent five years out there, in the big nasty wide world. You let me go there, remember? And I've learnt that I come first in my life. I don't have to do what you want me to do. I don't have to do what Mum wants me to do. I'll make up my own mind about my life, thank you. So, you can stop linking your arm in mine until I tell you that I want it there, if I ever do. OK?"
Eventually, as the silence became pervasive, she looked up at me. I looked down on her.
She spoke first, "I'm sorry. I know I have no right. I gave that up, and I was so wrong to do that. And I'm so sorry that I did......"
My anger subsided and I sat down again, but leaving us far enough apart to be clear that this wasn't kiss and make-up.
"I'm sorry, too. I don't mean to shout at you. And, to be honest, it isn't that you put your arm in mine. It really isn't. It's just that everyone seems to know what to do for the best about my life, except for me. I really would like to come to my own conclusions."
Again there was a long pause, then very quietly she asked, "Do I stand any chance?"
"I don't know. For everything I seem to think of, there seems to be an equal and opposite reason why not. If only I could know in my heart what I wanted to do, then I think I could find the reasons why from the story. I think I could justify anything. It seems to be a sort of pick 'n mix. I'm sorry, Molly. You said you'd give me time. I don't know how long I'll need, but I'm not ready yet. I'm not ready to do anything, and I'm not ready to say anything."
Again there was a long pause until I asked, "What did the solicitor say?"
"She remembered me and said: It took me five years to come to my senses. Apparently she knew when we were divorcing that I didn't really want it to happen. I do remember her suggesting once that I oppose it, but I didn't think I had any right to." She paused and half smiled, "Anyway, she's going to write to Peter, very gently, asking what he was going to do. It will be a lot easier if he divorces me. If I divorce him, well my reasons are a lot weaker, and he might oppose it. So we want to encourage him to lead the way. I guess he'll get the letter tomorrow or Monday."
I told her, "He's gone away for the weekend."
She looked at me, questioningly. So I explained, "Piers told me. I'm entitled to know what my staff are doing."
"Sorry. Of course."
Again there was a long silence. Until I decided, "If you're OK, then I think I'll go. Are you OK?"
She looked at me, very sadly, and she sounded sad in her voice, "I'll be fine."
"I'll see the boys on my way out. Is it OK if I have them sometime over the weekend?"
"Of course. How about Sunday from my house?"
"OK. Let's say at noon, and I'll give them lunch."
She nodded, and I left the room quietly. I stood on the landing and composed myself before I went downstairs.
I found everybody in the sitting room. Five pairs of eyes turned to look at me as I came in. Some looked hurt, others were asking questions. I realised that Ben and Jamie both looked hurt. I went over to them and sat down on the floor with them, where they were playing Jenga with Ralph and Len.
I put my arms around both of them, "Mummy will be down in a minute."
Ben looked at me with very hurt but accusing eyes, "You were shouting at her, Daddy."
"Could you hear me? I'm sorry. Mummy said something that upset me, and it was only for a moment."
Jamie looked at me, slightly less hurt, "We couldn't hear what you were saying, but we heard your voice."
I smiled, I hoped I looked reassuring, "Well, don't worry. Mummy's OK, and she'll be down in a minute."
I looked around at the adults. Len seemed neutral, I couldn't work out what Ralph was thinking, but I got the impression I hadn't excused myself with Mum, she was looking at me with half closed eyes, staring intently.
I kissed both Ben and Jamie. "I'll take you to lunch on Sunday. You can think up what you'd like to do on Sunday afternoon, Jamie. Any special birthday treat you like. Now I'm going to go. I've already said goodbye to Mummy."
I stood up, I looked at Ralph, "Thanks for the hospitality, Ralph. I'll talk to you soon."
I looked round at Mum and Len, I went over and kissed Mum, very aware that she still hadn't said a word. "I doubt whether I'll see you again until after you get back from seeing Brian and your holiday in Scotland. So, do have a good time." I kissed her cheek again and headed for my car.
As I got to the front door, I realised that Mum was following me. Len was trailing behind her. I looked at her.
"Go on, out to your car. We can talk outside."
I went out and pulled my car door open, then I turned to Mum. "Don't say it Mum. Don't let's part on a row. Just give Brian my love, and Morag and the children of course, and I'll see you in a couple of weeks." And I kissed her on the cheek for the third time.
I was quite hopeful that she wasn't going to say anything, I was wrong.
"How could you? How could you shout at her? She's doing her best to hold it together. She's made a mess of her life, and now she's turned to the man she loves, the father of her children, and you shout at her and walk away. How could you?"
"I shouted at a woman who was unfaithful to me, who walked away from me, and who's been married to her lover for the last four years. And if you have a problem with that Mum, then you need your head examined."
We stared at each other in a sort of stand-off. I broke the spell to get into my car, and I closed the door and lowered the window. She was still watching me, intently, but I thought with a little doubt in her eyes. Len was still hovering just behind her. Then Ralph came out and looked at me.
Ralph said, "Before you go, Chris, I'd like a word." He looked at Mum.
It was Len who got the message. He took hold of Mum's arm, "Come on Dear. Let's go in and see the boys." And he led her indoors.
As she went through the front door, Ralph turned back to me, "I just wanted to say that I hadn't realised how hard this must be to you, Chris. I once said that I thought Molly was going to ask you to do the hardest thing you'll ever have to do. I thought that that was to try and forgive her. To try to build something new with her."
"I'm sorry, Ralph. I know that's what you want. It's what Mum wants. But...."
"But what I didn't think about is just how hard it must be for you to accept that any of that is even a possibility. I know that when we talked I never heard a word of criticism or recrimination against Molly. That gave me hope. I suppose its part of the reason I engineered all this. But, I didn't listen to everything. I've only just begun to realise you never said a word of anything but that it was all over. However much you had regrets, you never wished to change things. You very firmly accepted that she was gone, that she loved Peter more than you and that was that. I guess it's how you coped. It must be almost impossible to just change your thinking, to understand the options you have."
I looked at him, grateful for his understanding. But I could still feel my disappointment, hurt and anger with Mum coursing through me. "Don't tell me, Ralph. Tell them."
I put the car into reverse and slipped off his drive.
I went home to feeling pretty unsettled all that evening, and only managed a few hours of troubled sleep.
But on the Saturday I was feeling a little more cheerful, when in the middle of the morning my doorbell buzzed, and when I opened it, there stood Mum.
"Mum, I thought you were off to Newcastle to see Brian this morning."
"We are. Ralph is giving us a lift to the airport, and he and Len are downstairs. But I couldn't go without seeing you."
"Then you'd better come in."
We stood facing each other in the living room. She looked at me and just said, "Sorry."
I waited and she went on, "I'm sorry, Chris. Ralph talked last night about some of the conversations you and he had had in the last few weeks. I wasn't here when you and Molly broke up, I heard you on the phone when we talked, but I could never see your face or look into your eyes. I don't think I ever realised how hurt you were. I guess you still are."
I sighed, "Yes I was hurt. Suddenly, out of the blue, I'm told that I'm not wanted. That the life I'd given her wasn't good enough. I think part of my life ended then. Now I'm told it was all a mistake."
I looked at her, there were tears in her eyes, and she stepped up to me and hugged me.
"I know, Chris. I realise now. And I'm sorry. I thought that with a little nagging from an interfering mother, you could just pick up the pieces, and give Jamie and Ben their ****** back. It isn't that easy, I realise that now."
"Oh, Mum. I don't know what to do. I loved my life, my ****** back then. And of course I want Jamie and Ben to have a loving stable ****** around them. But I don't know that I can put it back together with Molly, I don't know that I even want to. If she screwed up, well that's her problem, and she can't expect me to put it right, not after five years of leaving me with all those hurts, doubts, insecurities. All those sleepless nights in miserable rented flats, drinking too much and picking up the wrong sort of girls. I can't just forget all that. It wouldn't work for me, and it certainly wouldn't give Jamie and Ben the ****** they deserve."
"Why not sit down and talk to her? At least try...."
"I just don't think there is any point. It seems cowardly and callous to just walk away, but maybe that would be for the best."
"I don't think you're a coward, and I certainly don't think you're callous. But I do think you're scared, and I don't know what I can do give you the strength...."
"It's not a matter of strength, Mum. What is the point of giving Molly hope, of giving Jamie and Ben hope, when it's never going to work? I just don't know how to try, I don't know if it's worth trying...."
"Do you still love her, even a little bit?"
"I don't even know the answer to that. I've trained myself for nearly five years not to think of her in that way. I just couldn't allow myself to do so. I had to move on, I had to build myself a new life, a different way of thinking. I've always known that I did love her, and that I loved the life we had. But memories of what we once had are no good for the future....I just don't know. And everyone seems to be waiting for me to announce some decision, and I have no idea what my decision is, or even what it's meant to be. I don't even know what is right anymore."
"Then do nothing until you do know. And the rest of us will just have to wait."
I looked at her, her eyes were softer and kinder than they'd been for the whole of this trip. Suddenly I was a little boy looking into my mummy's eyes. I kissed her on the forehead. "You ought to go. Len and Ralph are waiting...."
"Let them wait. We'll all wait. I'm not leaving here until I know you'll be alright."
I kissed her again and sighed, "Would you like a coffee? I could take Len and Ralph a mug each if I make some."
"No thank you. But I might like a glass of water. I'm not used to all this maternal emotion, I'm a bit out of practice." She said as she wiped her eyes on a little lace edged handkerchief.
When I came back from the kitchen with a glass of water she was sitting on the sofa. She looked up and took the glass, "I'm very proud of my sons. Of both you and Brian. Who would have thought that a widow of a railwayman could bring up a university lecturer, maybe a professor soon, and a businessman who is a managing director." She smiled, "But you are still my boys. And I hope you still remember some of the things I taught you. About always making sure you do the right thing?"
I sat down in a chair opposite her, "I hope so, Mum. I try to do the right thing most of the time."
"Well, promise me something. I'll wait, we'll all wait as long as you like. And don't worry about whether what you do is callous or kind, cowardly or brave. Just promise me that you'll be able to look me in the eye and say you did the right thing. Right for you and right for Jamie and Ben. And if it can be right for Molly, well that'd be a bonus."
I smiled, "Mum, that's exactly what I want to do. I just haven't the faintest idea what it is."
"Well if you want to talk about it, you've got me and Len and Ralph and I'm sure lots of others. You could come up to Newcastle and talk to Brian if you wanted to. And you could always talk to Molly, she isn't stupid, she'll understand."
We just sat and looked at each other in silence, until Mum said, "I must go....." and two minutes later she was gone.
I made myself a mug of coffee, and I felt relaxed and pleased. I knew that, given time, I would come to a good solution, and I felt that the pressure was off. Well, off from everybody except Molly. I knew she was willing me to try and build some relationship with her with every breath she took.
In the afternoon I traipsed the shops, looking for something to buy Jamie. Once upon a time, I used to be able to chat to Molly in the evening about the boys and what they might want as a present, and then she'd go and actually buy the present from both of us. Then there was my period of travelling and living abroad, when I could rely on Internet shopping. Now I have to do it all for myself.
Standing in a bookshop I had the idea of giving him some Harry Potter books, surely he's just about coming to the right age. But, I don't know if he has any already, or whether he's read any. I know that I have to phone Molly, but I'm scared of letting the conversation wander. Eventually I made the call, and I'm successful in keeping it purposeful and to the point. And the present problem is solved. Jamie's getting all the Harry Potter books, in hardback. But then I went and bought an Ipod for him, just in case the books didn't go down too well.
Back at my flat I gift wrapped the presents, and I felt good. I was relaxed about Molly, the right answer would come to me in time. And I felt good about Mum and the rest of them, they could just wait. I decided to go out for the evening and enjoy myself. I knew what I really wanted, and that was to get laid. Healthy, uncomplicated, straight sex, and plenty of it.
I first tried one of the bars near me and the University. The scenery was good, there were plenty of twenty year old girls around, some of them very attractive. There was one group of four sitting at a table in the pub and all making sideway glances at me as I sat at the bar. A couple of them gave me surreptitious smiles when I caught them watching me. I guess I stood a fair chance of picking one of them up, I was a decent looking guy, dressed quiet expensively, and with a nice car and a nice flat just up the road. I couple of years ago, pre-Helene, I wouldn't have hesitated. In fact I had several memories of doing just that. But now, the better behaved me felt it was wrong. It would be cradle snatching, and using them for my own selfish purposes.
What I wanted was a slightly more mature woman, but not too mature, who knew the rules of the game. That this was to be a healthy one night stand, with cheerful goodbyes in the morning. So, when I finished my beer I moved on.
I wondered where there was a nightspot for the single thirty somethings, there must be one in a city of this size; I just didn't know where it was. So, I thought of hailing a taxi, and relying on the driver to know, but I couldn't see a taxi. I walked down the road, and as I was approaching the Centre, I realised that I'd be passing the Marriott Royal Hotel very soon, and they were sure to have a taxi rank. But then I thought: a hotel! That's what I need, the perfect place to find a lonely business woman looking for company. And I was good at picking up women in hotel bars, I'd had plenty of practice in my bad years. But not the Royal, it's too classy, and I might become known there as MD of Franks. So, I walked on until I found what I was looking for, the non-descript good class business hotel. And eventually I found one. I couldn't tell you which chain, they all look the same, and sometimes the actual building changes from one chain to the next in some property shuffle without anyone noticing.
I sat at the bar and looked around. It wasn't particularly crowded, but I guess these hotels do there trade mid-week with business visitors. It's why they offer cheap weekends to private visitors, because they can't fill the rooms with full price company expensed clients. There were three couples scattered around the tables. And a large mixed group, I would guess some ****** reunion. There was one woman sitting by herself, but she was seriously intent on reading a whole load of business papers spread out in front of her. At a couple of tables there were businessmen drinking and talking seriously, and about four guys like me, drinking at the bar. And one very attractive girl, late twenties and dressed very attractively. She was sitting at a table by herself, and she seemed to be watching the room. Maybe she was waiting for someone, maybe she was a professional working the bar. I sipped my drink and watched her.
She was perfect. The clothes were expensive, but just slightly too sexy. The make up was perfection. The hair stylish and beautifully cut, and had a habit of falling across her face in a very attractive way. She was sipping a glass of mineral water or maybe a vodka and tonic. It had a slice of lemon, and was clear and bubbly.
She was definitely checking out the guys, including me. She seemed to like what she saw and gave me a half smile. I came to the conclusion she was a professional, not that it worried me. I'd paid for it before, and there was no reason why I couldn't pay for it again.
She checked her watch and then looked up at me. She smiled again and stood up and started walking towards me. She definitely was a professional. Amateur innocent girls don't approach another man when there date doesn't turn up on time. I half turned to await her arrival. Then this red faced man in his mid-forties suddenly cut between us. I heard him say, "Fiona? I'm sorry I'm a bit late. I had trouble getting away." And he sort of held her proffered hand, but leant in to kiss her on the cheek.
She looked at me, and the look said it all: Sorry, but business is business. I silently toasted her with my glass as he led her away. So close and yet so far.
I looked around the room, just to see if anyone else had seen that little drama unfold. No one seemed to. The lone business woman was steeped in reading her papers. Others just carried on drinking and talking. I recognised the collection of papers she was reading. There were the published accounts of some company. A set of brochures in the colours of the rainbow. Some computer print-outs that looked like spreadsheet prints, a file of correspondence and a very different document, in a different style and binding. My guess was that was the proposal or terms of reference or quote for an assignment. As I was looking at this collection I didn't notice she was looking at me. As I raised my sight, our eyes met.
"Looks like the briefing papers for a new assignment." I said with a smile.
She was older than me by a couple of years, maybe more if she'd looked after herself. Her face had a hardness to it, but she was attractive enough, just not my type.
She smiled back, "I start on Monday. Huddersfield, I'm driving up tomorrow."
"That's a bit cruel. Keeping you here for the weekend, and not letting you go home for some respite before you start. Would you like a drink, by the way?" Talking to her was easier than drinking alone.
"Thank you. A glass of dry white, please. My name's Angie."
I stood up and went over and shook her hand. "And I'm Chris." I turned back to the bar and got her the wine.
We got chatting, it turned out that she was a management consultant who had been on assignment in Bristol for the month. I asked why she hadn't gone home for the weekend, and it seemed that she was divorced with one grown up ******** away at university, so there was no one to go home for. As she said, "I've been here for four weeks, and I've worked the last two weekends, so I thought it would be nicer to see Bristol for a day and travel up north tomorrow, rather than make a fleeting visit to an empty flat in London."
I looked at some of her papers for the new assignment. The company name meant nothing to me, they were into agricultural land management. But I did notice that they had too much investment in plant on which they were getting an inadequate return. I think she was quite impressed by that.
We had another drink each, and then I asked her if she'd eaten. No she hadn't, and nor had I, so I invited her to go out for a meal, "Nothing heavy. A Chinese or Indian or something?"
"I saw a Thai restaurant down the road that looked nice." Was her acceptance.
As we ate we went on talking. She told me that her ******** was not the result of her marriage, but of a relationship when she was much younger. I looked at her, I think my original estimate was about right, late thirties.
She did wonder if the lack of children in the marriage had been part of its downfall. Apparently she'd been divorced a couple of years. She said she wasn't too surprised at the break up, it had been pretty rough for the last couple of years. And although the final straw had been discovering that he was having an affair, she thought that it was probably the result of a failed marriage rather than the cause of it.
I told her I had been divorced for four years, so I had some idea what she was going through.
She looked thoughtful for a moment, "It's odd. I'm not surprised we were divorced, but it still totally destroyed me. I was so angry, not at him, but at myself. I'd hung in there, hoping that things would get better, but he'd realised there was no future and had looked after himself. I was a fool."
"I think at some level we always blame ourselves. I know I did, although I didn't know what I'd done wrong. How were you in the months afterwards?"
She looked at me, weighing up her possible answers, "I made a total fool of myself. I didn't realise it at the time, but I became the easiest girl in the company. Oh, they had to buy me a dinner, or better still dinner and theatre, but they were onto a dead cert as to how the evening would end. All sorts, young, old, married or single. I just craved wanting to be wanted."
"I know the feeling. In my way I was much the same." I said, thinking back to my bad years.
She sipped her wine, thoughtfully, "Well, I slowly began to realise that I was the subject of company gossip, and not very flattering gossip at that. So, I changed my job, became a consultant and live my life on the move. It's shallow and unsatisfactory, but it'll do for the time being."
Again, I smiled, "I went through that phase too. Are you in control now?"
"Oh Yes. Total control. £250 per night, I never pay more than £500, but I have to pay for dinner on top of course. Does that shock you? That I pay for sex."
"No. I've done it myself. It's an easy, manageable solution." I paused, "In fact, for the first time in a couple of years, I was just about to pay for it tonight. Did you see the hooker in the bar just now?"
"Was she a hooker?" She shrugged, "I guess she could have been."
"I'm pretty sure she was. But her client turned up just in time, just before I negotiated my own deal. Do you think I would have got it cheap as a late booking?"
She laughed, then she looked appraisingly "So you're feeling horny, are you?"
I waited, suddenly having to decide if I liked where this turn of the conversation could be leading.
She continued, "We could both save some money tonight."
I laughed, and thought: What the Hell....? "And management consultants, or even ex-consultants, should stick together, help each other out in a time of need, professional courtesy and all that..."
We both laughed and knew what was going to happen, and more important, knew the rules of the game.
We went back to her hotel. It all seemed a bit odd in some ways. There was this clinical commitment that we were going back for sex, just like with a hooker. Only she wasn't a hooker, she was a bright intelligent lady. But it was also that she was older than me, albeit only by a few years, but in all my travels I'd never made it with an older woman. Well, I was going to that night.
Around ten o'clock on Sunday morning I could be seen leaving the hotel, freshly showered but unshaven. And I felt great. The sex with Angie had been exactly what I needed, hot sweaty, hard, straight sex. Early on she told me that she didn't do oral, so I couldn't see any reason why I should either. And as she didn't do oral I didn't bother to ask or hint about anal. So it was just straight sex, twice last night and two more times this morning. I actually ran out of condoms, but I should have known, Angie had one in her toilet bag.
As I walked up the road to my flat I felt relaxed. I'm sure other people noticed me smiling at them and saying "Good Morning" to them all. Every ounce of sexual tension was gone. And so was all my other frustration and fear about Molly. I knew, I just knew, that the right answer would come to me.
I filled my morning with nothing more strenuous than a light breakfast with gallons of coffee, and a thorough reading of the Sunday paper. And at 11:59 I was knocking at Molly's door.
She answered the door with a smile, and got a very cheerful Hello from me.
"Come in for a minute, they are just getting themselves ready."
I strolled through to their kitchen, whilst she went upstairs to chase up the boys. She found me looking at the view from their kitchen window, and whistling cheerfully.
"You sound cheerful."
"I am. Life is pretty good, and it's a lovely day, and I'm just relaxed and enjoying it."
She half laughed, "Can I have some of whatever you're on, I could do with it."
I looked at her and she did look tired and had a weariness about her. There was a time when I would have given her a hug and a kiss and cheerfully patted her bottom and told her that I loved her and that whatever the problem was, it would pass. But, not this morning.
Instead, I just said, "I've come to the conclusion that things will work out. I don't know how, or even when, but they'll sort themselves out. We've got plenty of time, and in the meantime you must just get yourself divorced from Peter. Putting right that wrong is totally within your power."
"That's important to you, isn't it? To me it's just a bit of paper work. A process of getting the right ticks in the right boxes. The future is far more important than the past."
Just then two boys came bursting into the room, and the conversation was dropped.
We said our farewells, and I got them into the car. Over lunch I asked Jamie what he wanted to do for the afternoon, and I was told, "Go to the Zoo."
So, off to Bristol Zoo we went. I think we all had a thoroughly good time, but in the middle of the afternoon, whilst we stopped for a drink, Jamie announced that "This isn't the zoo I meant."
"Well, it's the only zoo that Bristol's got. Sorry about that. Which zoo did you mean?"
"Well, a long time ago, Peter won some tickets to go to a big zoo. Do you remember, Ben?" Ben shook his head, and Jamie went on, "We drove through fields with lions and giraffes and things in. And we went on a boat where they fed the seals." He turned to his brother, "You must remember, Ben. It was before Mummy and Peter were married."
Ben shook his head. "I remember Mummy getting married, but I don't remember that."
I felt an emptiness in my stomach. Ben may not be able to remember it; I wasn't sure I wanted to know about it. I smiled and said, "I'll ask Mummy."
When we got back to Molly's, she was waiting for us. The boys ran in, with Jamie asking "What's for tea?"
I looked at Molly, "Don't let them kid you. They've just eaten burgers and fries about half and hour ago."
She smiled, "Well, it sounds as if you all had a good time. Since you've been back in Bristol and have been taking them out, I'm sure their intake of burgers and pizzas has gone up. I should start warning you about keeping them on a healthy diet."
"It won't do them too much harm to eat a burger once in a while. But, I agree with you and I will watch it. Have you got a couple of minutes?"
"Sure." She said, and opened the door and led the way to the kitchen.
"It's just that I thought I might take the boys and you out to dinner on Tuesday, on Jamie's birthday. Nothing grand, just some ****** type restaurant somewhere." I looked at her and smiled, "With salad on the menu."
"I'm not that bad. And it would be lovely. But it is a school night, so they can't be late."
"Well, if I'm here to pick you up at six, say?"
"That would be fine." Suddenly her eyes misted over, "It'll be nice to go out as a ******. Thank you."
"You said I was in a good mood, and I just thought of it."
She half smiled, "What did you do last night? It's just that the only time I ever knew you that relaxed on an ordinary Sunday, with you whistling especially, was if on the Saturday night..."
She glanced at me, and maybe I looked a bit guilty. I tried covering myself, "What?"
She looked away, "Nothing. It doesn't matter..."
I kissed her on the cheek, and left her, deliberately whistling.
