Dispirited is the word. I was dispirited. Luckily, the Friday after my short meeting with Molly was a very busy day. So, I threw myself into work, and tried to make sure that I was as busy as possible. I noticed that Carole must have picked up on my mood, because she didn't say a word about her soap opera, but she just mothered me all day, making sure that she got me to every meeting on time, that I did return the important calls, and that I had a proper lunch.
One meeting in the afternoon included Piers, and as he came into the room he looked at me and said, "Chris, have you got a minute?"
I guessed this was going to be the latest news from the Peter front, and I was interested. My office was too full of people, but we found privacy in an empty boardroom.
Piers started as soon as the door was closed, "Peter came to see me this morning. I hadn't realised that Molly had moved out. But, apparently in this morning's post he got a set of divorce papers."
"How did he take it?"
"He is one very unhappy man. At the moment, the world is against him. And it's all your fault."
I smiled, "No surprise there then. Why can't he see that this is the consequence of his own doing. He shouldn't have tried picking up a married woman. And he shouldn't have inveigled her into marrying him with her mother's connivance. It was bound to end in tears, and lo and behold, it has."
"He doesn't see it that way. Has she moved in with you?"
I looked at him, "No." I paused, "But we are talking. We agreed we would talk everything through, and then see where we are, on Tuesdays and Thursdays."
"And how's that going?"
"Lousy. We met twice. Tuesday wasn't so bad. But last night we argued, and she went home early. Nothing dramatic, just a difference of opinion."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
I sighed, "Not now. Let's see how the weekend goes. And anyway, if I'm going to cry on your shoulder, I need whisky to mix with my tears."
He smiled, and I asked, "What's Peter doing?"
He shook his head, "I don't know. I suggested that he takes the day off, and that he goes and sees a solicitor. And I suggested that he might go off to his Welsh cottage for the weekend, that's where he seems to do his thinking. But whether he will or not, I don't know. He was still in his office when I left."
"Well it's his life, and it's up to him." I opened the door and started to head back to my office and the meeting, with Piers at my side, "As long as he doesn't make a nuisance of himself with me, Molly or the boys."
I worked on, Carole went home having had a very searching look at me, and then Myra came through my office door, with a file in her hand.
"Carole said you wanted the best projections for next quarter's figures."
I stopped and thought for a moment, "If I had wanted them I would have asked Trevor Gale."
"Oh." She said and sat down in a visitor's chair at my desk and looked at me.
"And did Carole say someone should be my friend?"
She smiled, "You don't miss a trick, do you? So, fancy a quick drink then? It is Friday night after all."
"I've got work to do. Help yourself to a whisky." I said, nodding my head towards the decanter.
"Not for me thank you. Come on, Chris, if you must do some more, then pack up some things to take home for the weekend, and buy me a G&T. I need one."
"Why?"
"Because I've got a depressed boss who's fast turning into a workaholic, and it worries me. I need someone to talk to about it all."
I laughed and admitted defeat.
We went to the pub, but not for a long drink as Myra told me that Dr Will was coming up to Bath for the weekend, which put pay to my thought that I might invite her to dinner. In fact we hardly talked about Molly, I just told her that last night was a bit disappointing, and she told me to have patience. Other than that it was Will this and Will that. It was wonderful to see her so cheerful, but it did worry me slightly. I reminded her of a phrase she'd just used about Molly and myself, "Remember Myra, it's early days."
On Sunday I turned up at Ralph's house quite early. I'd hardly said hello to everybody when Ben dragged me off to see his new bedroom. He was sharing with Jamie, which I guess they wanted to do, as there was a fourth bedroom available. I guess the two brothers were drawing together in a time of uncertainty.
As I came down stairs again, Ralph looked at his watch, "Plenty of time before lunch, how about making it a fourth time?"
"Down the pub? No, I'm here to see the boys." I looked at him and he looked disappointed, so I added, "Unless, of course, we take Jamie and Ben."
He smiled, "Sure."
I went into the kitchen where Molly was making pastry, "Ralph has suggested that he, I and the boys should go down to the pub. Are you OK with that?"
I thought she looked relieved, "Sure. Be quick and be back for one thirty."
I kissed her on the cheek, "Are you OK?"
"Yes." She said in a tone that proved she wasn't. "I'm just feeling a bit harassed with the cooking at the moment."
"Well calm down. It won't matter if it's a bit late or one of the veggies is a bit overcooked." And I left her in the kitchen.
Ralph and myself collected the two boys and we headed for the pub. We took a table in the garden and I went and got the drinks. Of course the boys sat with us while they drank their drinks, and ate their bags of cholesterol. But after that they lasted about another thirty seconds before they were off. Their excuse was that someone came in with three large and very friendly dogs, so Ralph and myself were deserted.
Ralph watched Jamie and Ben leave, "Good. I wanted a word."
"About?"
"Tell me to mind my own business, but what happened on Thursday evening? It was obvious that she came home earlier than expected, and she wasn't in a good mood. She was very quiet and withdrawn. But she won't tell me what's wrong."
I considered things for a moment, "I'm sorry Ralph, but if she won't tell you, then I won't."
He looked at me for a moment, "Quite right. I should keep my big nose out of it." And he smiled. "But if it was anything to do with Him, well I think he's a bit of a sensitive subject at the moment. Poor little Peter, all hurt, and she feels sorry for him. But it was his only silly fault. Or his and my wife's."
"And how is your wife?" I asked, grateful for a way of changing subject.
Ralph took a long draught of his beer, and considered his answer. "I know what I'm going to do. Molly doesn't know this yet, but I've decided."
"Well, don't tell me if you don't want to. Are you still seeing her?"
"Not since the letter incident. She's phoned a few times, she can't see what the problem is. And I feel that it's one of those situations where if she doesn't see there's a problem, well that is the problem." He paused and looked at me, "She just makes me so angry. She even said that as you and Molly now know the truth, and can talk as much as you like, well that's alright then. What she did hasn't done any harm. I ask you, how fucking stupid is that?"
"I expect it's just a desperate argument. Anything to paper over the cracks."
He sighed, "Well, it won't work." He drained his pint, and looked at me, "Fancy another?"
"I do, but two boys probably fancy their lunch."
Why is it that everything seems to have emotional overtones these days? Back at the house, Molly had cooked a wonderful roast leg of pork. The last time she, I and the boys had sat down to roast pork was the Sunday before we broke up years ago, precisely three days after she'd screwed Peter Davies in his flat.
I decided a frontal approach for once. "Do you remember the last time we sat down to roast pork?"
Molly looked at me across the table, "Yes. It was the first Sunday of the worst years of my life. I hope this is the first Sunday of the best years of my life."
I liked her honesty. I remembered a phrase she'd used at Longleat, that maybe, just maybe, she'd get her life back. And for a moment I wondered if she might make it. But that's stupid, there's been too much hurt, too much has changed.
When we'd finished the meal the boys were up and off. Ralph told us to sit still and that he'd get us a coffee, because he wanted a word with us both.
As we sat at the table, I looked at Molly, sitting opposite me. She had been brighter whilst we ate our lunch and had chatted, but now the cloud of doom seemed to have descended on us again, "Come on, Molly. Something is obviously wrong. What is it?"
Molly looked at me, searching my eyes, "You won't be angry?"
"I don't know. Tell me what it is and I'll tell you."
"The solicitor phoned on Friday. She said Peter would have received his copy of the petition on Friday or Saturday. And I haven't heard a word. I guess I'm worried about him, I fully expected a broadside."
"Well, Piers told me he got it on Friday morning. And he was upset but OK. And Piers told him to go and see a solicitor, and then suggested that he goes up to Wales, as that's where he goes at times like this. So maybe he has. And, no, I'm not angry." I reassured her.
I also thought: I'm not particularly pleased that you're fretting over him either, but I can understand it, so I'm not angry.
Just then Ralph returned with a tray of coffee. Once that had been served and Ralph had resumed his seat at the head of the table, he looked at both myself and Molly, "I want to talk about Susan."
I sipped my coffee and waited. I noticed that Ralph was talking to Molly rather than me, I guess I was only there to support, if Molly was upset with whatever was coming.
"We've met seven times in the five weeks I've refused to let her come home, and I've talked to her on the phone plenty more times as well. She shows no signs whatsoever of understanding that what she did was wrong. Her value system is totally wrong as far as I'm concerned. On top of which, she treats me as if I'm some little boy that's having a tantrum over a broken toy, and that I'll calm down and accept things sometime soon. She is becoming impatient, she just wants to come back here and get on with her life."
"Daddy..." That was the first time I heard Molly call Ralph Daddy for years, "Don't do anything silly on my account. Please. I hate her at the moment, but ...."
Ralph squeezed her hand, "I'm not, Molly, I promise you."
They looked into each other's eyes, I don't think I was in the room at that moment. Which is possibly why I asked, "So, what are you going to do, Ralph?"
"I've found a short holiday, it's only eleven days, out in Madeira. It flies out on Thursday week. I've checked, they've got at least eight spaces available, and I doubt whether they'll sell them all now. So, I'm going to pack up everything that is Susan's personal stuff from this house. All her clothes, her pictures, her keepsakes, absolutely everything. I may need your help with some of that, Molly. And I'm going to visit her on the Wednesday before I go. I'll give her all her stuff, and tell her what I'm doing. It'll be up to her, I will ask her to apologise for what she did to you two, and for all the lies she told me. And if she does so, then I'll ask her to come with me on the holiday and to start to put things right in our marriage. And if she doesn't do both of those things, then I guess we really are heading for divorce as soon as I come back."
Molly looked worried, "What do you think she'll do?"
"I think she bluster and protest, and I think she'll let me go alone. And I think she'll swear I deserted her for no good reason whatsoever. She doesn't think she's done anything wrong. And she won't see why she should have to go on a trip she doesn't want to go on, just to apologise for something she hasn't done."
Now Molly looked very nervous, "What happens if she comes back here when you're away? What will I say, what do you want me to do?"
Ralph paused for a moment. "I'll tell her not to. And I'll change the lock on the front door. Keep the back door bolted. Then she won't be able to get in, but I'll tell her I'm doing it. I suspect that it won't be quite legal, but she'll have to get a Court order to break in, and I can't see her doing that. And Chris will see that nothing happens to you." He turned to me, "Won't you, Chris?"
"Of course. She's been down in Weymouth for nearly five weeks, another week or two isn't going to hurt her."
Molly didn't look convinced, "I'm just scared that she'll make trouble for me and the boys."
Ralph reassured her again, "She won't. You're her ********. If anything, she's more likely to want to mend her fences with you."
Molly now smiled grimly, "Well she can't do that. And she should be scared of what I could do to her if I do see her."
Ralph smiled, I relaxed, he added, "That's more like it. I know it can't be easy, your parents splitting up at exactly the same time as you're having to go through the divorce process again. But this time, we both know that what we're both doing is right."
I interrupted, "I hope you do know what you're doing Ralph. Personally, I can understand where you're coming from, but I warn you, being divorced is a pretty lonely place to be. Trust me, I know."
Molly looked up, "Being in a bad marriage can be a pretty lonely place as well."
I looked at my watch, "I must be going. I'm flying to Stockholm tonight." I caught a concerned look in Molly's eye, "It's alright. I'll be back by lunchtime on Tuesday. It's just an important sale, and I'm doing my bit to make it happen. I'll go and say goodbye to the boys."
After a few more minutes of reassuring looks, hugs, chaste kisses and words, I was driving away.
I got back to my office just before lunch on Tuesday. Carole had arranged a working lunch in my office, just for the two of us, as a way of catching up on my day out of the office, and on my diary ahead. But before I even got as far as my office, she said, "Can you phone Ralph Tremaine? He wants a word with you semi-urgently."
When I phoned Ralph, it was that he wanted to warn me that on Monday evening, Peter had turned up, demanding to talk to Molly. Eventually, and very reluctantly, Molly had agreed to let him say his piece. It wasn't a pretty piece. At heart, it was that he wanted to try again, but it included blaming anyone and everyone for their problems, but mainly blaming me. After about half an hour of it, Molly had apparently told him that she had listened, that it didn't change anything, and would he now please leave. At that point it turned fairly ugly, and ended up with Ralph threatening to call the Police, but he did go eventually.
Apparently, Molly was very upset for the rest of the evening, and was still very quiet at breakfast. He knew she was coming to see me as planned this evening, but that I shouldn't expect too much. I promised to be very gentle with her, and that I intended to give her some gentle indication that Peter wasn't always the honest and trustworthy gentleman that he pretends.
Ralph's only advice after that was to say "Make sure you can back up everything you say, and go very, very gently." Which I promised to do.
I took home a ready for microwave Chinese meal for two, and waited for Molly. When she arrived she was dressed beautifully, she smelt wonderful, and she looked tired, drawn, pale and nervous.
She told me about Peter's visit on the Monday. It was pretty much as Ralph had described it. But Molly had obviously found it deeply distressing. It took me all of the meal to get her to relax and even smile. And I was getting pretty fed up with having to act as nursemaid because of Peter Fucking Davies!
We took our coffee and went and sat comfortably and Molly asked, "So, what do you want to talk about?"
"Well I guess the best place to start is when you first met Peter. Let's go over the story again, and in detail."
She said OK, and that's what we did. I asked questions about what they talked about, both when others were there and when there were just two of them. But, although I asked quite pointed questions, and on a couple of occasions Molly looked at me with deep suspicion, she never admitted that there was anything wrong with the relationship, or that Peter was trying to feed her ideas about having an affair.
Then we came onto the day of the adultery. I started to be very detailed in my questions. How was she exactly feeling? How quickly did Peter see the opportunity to invite her for lunch? Who's idea was it to go in one car? When she asked for a G&T and he ordered it, was it a G&T or a large G&T or a very large G&T?
She did answer that one, that it was large or very large. She thought it was just large, but he could have asked for a very large one. Was there a difference?
"Maybe. To some bartenders a G&T is a single, a large is a double and a very large is a triple."
After that, I questioned their conversation in the restaurant, was it at all sexual? Well Yes it was, but only in a joking, between colleagues sort of way. Nothing personal, nothing too pointed. When we got to the grappa incident, I asked if Peter had ever got to like grappa?
Suddenly, Molly was looking indignant, "Yes. Now he loves the stuff. He says he thinks of it as 'Our Drink'. But that's what this has been all about, hasn't it Chris? You're trying to prove that he was some bastard trying to seduce me. Well he isn't a bastard and he wasn't trying to seduce me. He's a very nice, honest man, who happened to fall into lust that afternoon, just like I did. And then afterwards he fell in love. Stop trying to make him seem something he's not."
"Honest! Honest! How honest was he with his tickets to Longleat? Was that honest? Was it honest to pretend that sweet peas were his favourite flower? Was it honest to just happen to have veal on your first date? How honest is he, Molly? He doesn't sound very honest to me?"
She stood up and started heading for the door. She grabbed her jacket and bag as she passed, "He's a nice man. You can't blame him for taking tips from Susan. She shouldn't have set him up. But it wasn't really his fault. That first time it was my fault. I wanted him. I've already told you that. I was wrong. I was a slut. But it wasn't his fault. Stop trying to blame him for everything."
By that time she was at the front door, and she was leaving and right now.
"Fucking John 11:35" was my answer to the back of my front door.
Whisky tasted good that night!
Ralph caught up with me by telephone on the Wednesday night. I had just got back to my hotel room in Oxford after a business dinner, when he phoned me.
"Yes, Ralph?"
"Chris, are you free to talk?"
"Yes. Sure."
"Well I warned you. Go gently. But you didn't."
"But I did. I can understand that she feels a bit sensitive about Peter. But there's sensitive and fucking stupidly hyper-sensitive..."
"And being even sensitive about another man can't be easy for you...."
"No it isn't, but I know it's reasonable on her part. I'll live. How is she?"
"Feeling a little guilty I think. She wouldn't tell me what you said, just that you made a totally unfair attack on Peter. But I think she feels a bit sorry now."
"One day Ralph, I'll prove to you that I wasn't in the least bit unfair. Is she coming back for more tomorrow?"
"Yes, I thought you two had agreed that you had to keep going. Let her supply the food this time, it might ease her conscience. But lay off Peter."
"OK. I think I've got some things to say or tell her about him, but maybe this isn't the time."
"Pleased to hear it. Have faith, you'll get there."
I laughed, "Could you tell me where 'there' is?"
Now he laughed, "Now that would take all the mystery and excitement away."
So, on the Thursday I found Molly in my kitchen when I got home. She was filling a saucepan with water at the sink when I came through the door, and I instantly knew there was something wrong.
"Hi. What's the matter?"
She turned towards me, it was obvious that she'd been crying. "I saw Jeanette this afternoon."
"And? It was rough? She talked about forgiveness when I saw her."
"Oh! She was quite nice to me, very nice in fact. No, it was some of the stories she told me. You know what they were. Why didn't you tell me? Why did you let me go on believing..."
I smiled, "If I remember all the way back to Tuesday, I started to try. It didn't seem to go down very well. I take it her stories included Peter and his fondness of grappa?"
"And his determination to 'get into my pants' as apparently he so delicately put it. And that's why Peter and Piers weren't talking. He even had to lie to me about that."
"What are we having? And does it go with red or white?"
"I'm not fussed, but its just pasta with a marinara sauce. White I guess, but I think I'd like something a bit stronger."
"A G&T perhaps?"
"And I had a think about that. It was definitely a large one, and I'm pretty sure it was a very large one."
"A triple! He was out to get you relaxed."
I poured two G&T's and handed her one. "It's a single-ish I promise."
"Don't. I feel such a fool. I ruined my life, our lives, for a randy guy who just wanted to get into my pants."
"Drink your drink and we'll talk about it later. Was Jeanette still a proud grandmother?"
And we didn't really talk about anything personal until after the meal. Except for one point when we did have one short conversation about Ralph and Susan, and that Molly's childhood home would probably end up being sold, but that didn't seem to worry her.
It was after we'd sat down comfortably with mugs of coffee and the remains of our wine that she said, "OK. Tell me what I missed. How did I fall for this Lothario?"
I smiled, "Can I be a little more obvious in my questions than I was on Tuesday?"
"Yes. There's no point in being subtle."
"OK. Let's assume that Peter spotted you as a girl he fancied. That maybe have been well ahead of when he introduced himself, but my guess is that it was that lunchtime when he was in the canteen and saw you eating alone. Again, my guess is that you would have made it blatantly obvious that you were married and that you had two small children, and that you loved your ******. Now, we don't know if he specialised in the challenge of married woman, or he took whatever came along, but either way, my guess is that he set his sights on you. Perhaps he had his sights on two or three others in his life at that time, at Franks he had quite a reputation."
"So, he makes sure we become friends?"
"That's what I would do if I was determined. And I guess he already knew that you'd spurned or not noticed any feelers he'd put out for a quick kill. So he knew the hunt was on. My guess is that he would try to separate you from me a little in your mind. Did he?"
She thought about that, "I don't think so. Well, maybe a bit. When I told him about how I felt, that I couldn't help you in your business life, he used to say that in his experience the wives of ambitious career guys tend to carve their own separate lives. They had separate friends, interests and relationships."
"That would be it. It's OK for you to have separate relationships."
She didn't look very pleased about that, but then admitted, "Yes, he did rather go on about building my own life."
I pressed on, "I think the other thing he would have done was just to stir you up a bit, make you think some sexy thoughts about him, every time you met. Just to make sure that you had some secret thoughts about him sexually. Nothing said, nothing overt, but a sexual awareness when you're with him."
She thought a lot about that, "Maybe. I was aware that he was a very sexy and attractive man. I wondered why he spent time with me when he had nurses swooning over him. It reinforced your other argument. I thought it must be because we were becoming such good friends."
"Well then we get to the great day. I guess that even happy chatting hospital gossip would be quite sexual, even if you didn't recognise it as being personally relevant....."
"Actually, some of the talk was about his last girlfriend. It wasn't about him and me. But it was about some girl where they had great sex, but nothing else. I thought it sounded rather sad. I felt a bit sorry for him."
I smiled, "Oh! Nice one! He reminds you how sexy he is, and how good he is at sex, and generates your feminine sympathy, all in one go. And all in a trusting, intimate friendship."
I looked at her, and she was beginning to look very uncomfortable. But I pressed on, "He was an opportunist, and he saw his opportunity. We've established that he got quite a lot of alcohol inside you. And that gave him his excuse to get you back to his flat. And then we come to the final act, when he's got you back to his lair. Now, please note that he spilt hot water down himself, not hot black coffee which would have ruined his shirt. And I bet it wasn't that hot."
"I couldn't tell. It was wet and warm by the time I got there, that's all I could say."
"But then he has to strip off his shirt and trousers. This is a man who you say was very proud of his physique. He knew what he was doing. He knew he'd look good and sexy to you. Then, when he joined you in the sitting room, after the spillage, did he have his socks on?"
She looked surprised at the question, "No."
"Men look silly wandering around in their shorts with socks on. So, after the spillage, instead of going and putting on a fresh shirt and trousers he took his socks off."
"I guess so."
"I remember you mentioned that he came up behind you in his Calvin Klein's. I assume they were a nice quality pair of boxers?"
"Yes, they were. They were black silk. He really did look rather sexy in them."
"Did he always wear black silk boxers? Everyday, I mean. You should know, you were married to him."
"No. He wears good quality branded cotton ones normally."
"But that day he just happened to be wearing a sexy pair of black silk ones. What a coincidence."
Molly drank the last of her wine and looked at me. "Hindsight is a wonderful thing, and on this occasion I literally mean hindsight. I have an image of those black boxers in my mind. And they still have the fold lines in them from coming out of a packet, brand new. Why didn't I see it then?" She paused and looked at me, "When we got to his flat he disappeared into his bedroom for a couple of minutes. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but..."
"He had time to change into a brand new pair of his seduction specials. And freshen up his cologne?"
"Probably. He smelled good." She looked at me, and her eyes welled up with tears, "But I fell for it. I still wanted it at that moment."
I looked at her, right into her eyes, "Yes you did. You shouldn't have. You did betray our marriage...."
The tears overflowed, down her cheeks.
And I continued, "He was a master. In some ways I have to admire him. He saw an opportunity, and executed it perfectly. One hundred percent successful from his point of view. But you did succumb, and you shouldn't have. But I have to admit it was far more his fault than yours, you were a victim."
"But I fell. Why didn't I see it? Girls get good at seeing that sort of thing coming. And it's taken you and Jeanette before I saw it. Why can you make it sound so obvious?"
"As I say, he was good, and he got under your radar. I see it because it's exactly what I would have done if I'd been him with his morals and his objective."
We sat in silence for quite some time, before Molly said "I think I'd like to go home now."
"And I think you should. You've had quite a day. But don't beat yourself up, it was all a long time ago, and I guess the way you and he were being pushed together by Susan, you haven't liked to be suspicious of him until now."
At the door I kissed her on the cheek, "Cheer up. Now you know the truth. Now you can deal with it."
After she left I had a weird feeling of anti-climax. At last I'd got her to see the truth. But I also had a feeling of anger and hurt. For the last couple of weeks, every emotion she'd felt, every conversation we'd had was about Peter Fucking Davies. It was Peter, Peter, Peter....
I phoned her on Friday, and asked how she was. "Thinking a lot. And getting angry" was her reply. Good, I thought. But all I did was arrange to take the boys out cycling on Sunday.
When I got them back, late on Sunday afternoon, Molly looked at me, "Have you got a minute?"
"Sure." I said and followed her into the kitchen. I could see Ralph pottering around his garden through the window.
She turned and looked at me, and held out a letter in an open envelope. "This was on the mat this morning, and there is no Sunday delivery."
I took it, it was about five hand written pages, addressed to her, and from Peter. "He delivered it himself?"
"We guess so, either late last night or early this morning. Please read it. I'm not hiding anything from you."
I did. It was mainly pleading on how they should try again, on how much he loves her, on how only he can make her happy. There was over a page on how she was deluding herself that I would ever take her back, and what an ambitious selfish shit I was, and even if I did take her back then I'd only make her unhappy. And finally, there was the sting in the tail, on how he would never agree to a divorce.
I looked at her, "What are you going to do?"
"Well, I'd already decided that I was going to see my solicitor again, as soon as possible. I'll give it to her to reply. Maybe if gets an official reply it will make him realise that he's got to let the divorce happen."
"Good idea. What were you going to see her about anyway?"
"You were right. I was seduced into ruining our marriage, and I was hoodwinked into marrying him. I should get something out of it. I want the full fifty percent, and anything else I'm entitled to."
"How will he take that? And what happens if he just doesn't do anything? If he just doesn't reply to the letters, or the divorce petition?"
"There are rules about that sort of thing. I can't remember the details, but you have to get a judge to agree that he's been given a fair time to respond and if he hasn't then the divorce goes forward anyway. But it all delays things and adds to the cost."
"And his reaction to the financial claim?"
"I think he'll hate it. When I first married him used to be very conscious that he couldn't give me as nice a house as we used to have. So he was very proud that his mother had left him enough money to afford better things. He won't like it being stripped away. But, if I have the law on my side, there won't be much he can do about it."
Good. Serves him bloody well right, I thought. But I just tried to look sympathetic. So I asked, "Will you be alright?"
"Yes. Ralph wants to come with me to the solicitors. He wants to talk about divorcing Susan."
"How do you feel about that? I can't be easy."
"I'm in two minds. I don't like the idea that my parents are getting divorced after thirty six years. But at the same time, I'm grateful that I'll never have to see Susan again. What she did was unforgivable, and I have no intention of ever trying to forgive her."
Now I was in two minds about that. I had every reason to agree with her view of Susan, but for anyone to reject their own mother so determinedly seemed sad and possibly damaging to themselves. And I did have some doubts about Ralph divorcing Susan. I could understand his disgust and anger, but after thirty six years surely there was some compromise that doesn't sweep them into the loneliness of divorce? But it was their lives and their choices, not mine.
I was thinking these thoughts when I heard Molly again, "And Chris, I want to say something else."
I looked up at her, and waited. She came and stood right in front of me, very close. "I want to say I'm sorry." She paused, "I hope you know already how deeply sorry I am for succumbing to his seduction, but that isn't what I want to say. I'm sorry that for the last few days, even today, I've been tied up in this stupid marriage to Peter. He was always a mistake, then and now. He is not the centre of my life, you are." She leant into me and went to kiss me on my lips, but then there was a moment of sadness in her eyes and she moved sideways slightly and kissed me on my cheek.
I went home that evening feeling totally muddled in my feelings. I was pleased that I was her main man, but she talked and worried about him. I was pleased that she saw Susan in a true light, but worried that no one should hate their mother. I was pleased that she saw Peter for the immoral bastard he was, but hurt that she'd married him. And so it went on. Every thought had its downside.
Partly out of duty, and partly out of need, I phoned Mum. She and Len had returned to Newcastle and were back staying with Brian and Morag. Having gone through the preliminary chat about their holiday in Scotland, and how everyone was, she obviously caught something in my voice and she interrupted something trivial that I was saying, "Chris, by the sound of it, something is troubling you. Would you like me or Len or Brian to phone you back on a landline for a proper talk?"
"Why don't you do it?" I replied.
Two minutes later my landline rang and about ninety minutes after that I put the phoned down having had a long rambling conversation with Mum. I was no wiser, but somehow I felt so much better. Mum had done nothing more than ask questions and listen to the answers, but somehow it helped.
I was just pouring myself my second whisky when my phone rang again. It was Mum, she'd had a long chat to Len. They were going to come back to Bristol on Tuesday. They'd decided that this time they were going to stay at a hotel and they invited myself and Molly to dinner at the Les Jardins on the Tuesday evening. I accepted for myself, but had to say that only Molly could accept for Molly, but that I'd speak to her.
On the Monday morning I know I was a bit short tempered, and on the second cup of coffee Carole sat down and looked at me. "Can I take it that life is a bit of a problem at the moment? The next hurtful instalment?"
So I brought her up to date, but also told her how muddled I felt. She looked at me, "When you invented this twice a week talking idea, you must have known you were launching into a long and very hard process. I'm sure there will be times when you feel you love her, other times when you will feel that you hate her. But most of the time you just won't know what you feel. But when you get to be able to answer that question, well you'll have got to the end, whatever it turns out to be."
"I'm not sure that fits your Shit Happens view of life."
"Think of yourself sitting in that sewer, with shit washing over you. You'll be grateful for the breaks when no one flushes. This isn't one of them."
I smiled. And as Carole left my office, I phoned Molly to ask her to come to dinner with Mum and Len on Tuesday evening. Of course she agreed.
Molly was waiting for me at my flat when I got in from work on Tuesday evening. I asked how the meeting with the solicitor went.
"OK. My bit was quite quick and matter of fact. She'll write to Peter telling him that he has to stop making threats and answer the Divorce Petition, or we'll go to Court and proceed anyway. And she'll lodge the financial claim. I told her to make it the reasonable maximum, was that right?"
I smiled, "It was as far as I'm concerned. He owes you, big time."
"Well after that it was mainly about Ralph and Susan. When Ralph had finished telling his story, she did ask if we wanted to make a legal claim for damages against Susan, but I said No. You don't want to, do you?"
Again I said, "No."
Then I went for a quick shower and a change of clothes. Once I was ready we were heading for Les Jardins. As we drove along, I said "You know Mum is going to quiz you on how we're getting along?"
"Don't worry. I've survived your mother's inquisitions before."
"When?"
"Before we got married. You don't think I was allowed to marry you without passing the test first, do you. I discussed it with Margot once. We reckon it was exactly the same questions, in exactly the same order for both of us, and on the same pretext of having a girl's afternoon shopping."
I laughed.
Dinner wasn't anywhere near as gruelling as I was expecting. Mum was full of stories about Brian and his ******, which I guess had an ancillary function of advertising ****** life. Len was full of stories of their Scottish holiday. Only at one point did I hear Mum start questioning how Molly and myself were doing. I was talking to Len at the time, about what had made him and his first wife emigrate to Australia in the first place, when I noticed Mum pull Molly's arm so that they stepped away from us. Immediately, my ears pricked up, but Mum had her back to me and I couldn't hear what she was saying.
But I did hear Molly, "No. I thought all I would have to do was wear a short skirt, bat my eyelashes once or twice, and we could get back to where we once were. But, we've met four times now to talk about things, and they have been horrid. It's not Chris's fault, but I'm having to face up to so many horrible things, about myself, about other people, and about how much I hurt Chris. Susan used to say that he'd be OK, that men don't worry about these sort of things, and I believed her. I was wrong. So, don't push him, he's doing remarkably well, considering."
Mum must have said something, because Molly went on, "Considering that all I've talked about really for two weeks is Peter, one way or another. Can you think about anything worse than talking about the other man, and yet Chris hasn't complained, he has always seems to be taking my feelings into account, when things must be painful for him as well."
Again Mum said something, and Molly replied, "Yes. But I'm only just beginning to realise that."
Then I heard Len break into my attention with, "I'll just keep talking. You nod once in a while and say Yes or No, so that they think we're talking and you're not listening to them." Which amused me, and for which I was grateful.
By the time I tuned in again, Molly was saying, ".....if it doesn't work out it won't be Chris's fault, or mine. It's just that we can't put it back together. But I know he'll try, even if he doesn't know it. And at the same time, I really do have my doubts. I didn't, but these first two weeks have taught me that."
We were onto the coffee before Mum turned to Len, "I don't think there is anything we can do for these two. We can go home?"
"Tomorrow if you like, and if they have space on the plane." Len answered.
Mum turned to me, "There is nothing we can do to help, is there? But you must phone every week, and whenever a chat will help."
And so, outside Les Jardins, we said goodbye. I did promise to go to Australia for Christmas, whatever happens. And I did thank her so much, for coming all this way just in the hope that she could give me my happiness back. It was out of her hands now, maybe it was out of mine and Molly's hands as well.
In the car, going back, Molly did tell me that she'd started talking to Heather Washington. Apparently it was very informal, they had just agreed to get together for two lunchtimes a week, in Heather's office with Molly supplying the sandwiches. So far they've got no further than Molly telling her story, and Heather asking what aspects of it trouble Molly the most.
"And what did you choose?" I asked.
"Why I got to such a state that I married Peter. Its something that I don't understand, and I was there. And I know it troubles you, probably more than me."
"Any idea what she's going to do, what her methodology is?"
"Well, obviously the big questions are what was the state of my mind at that time, and what influence did Susan have, and what was it that made Peter acceptable?"
"Yes, I guess so."
"Well, apparently she thinks there are tests that I can do, even this long after the event, that will tell us something about how I felt, how I reacted, all those years ago. That assumes that I can remember what I felt and did to the extent of answering questions. Heather's researching it at the moment."
"Oh. Well I guess we'll have to wait."
"And she wants to meet you and talk to you at sometime."
"Oh No she's doesn't. I told you, I don't do talking about my bed wetting at the age of two, or whether you fucking Peter gives me a hard on, or it just reduces me to tears."
"I know the answer to that one, and it didn't do anything for your trouser department."
"Do I hear a tinge of regret? That a threesome was in your dreams."
"Certainly not. I've read and fantasised a lot in the last four years, mainly around you. But the idea of sharing you, or of you sharing me is one of the biggest turn-offs I can think of. In some ways, I think it might have helped if I didn't feel so strongly about that. It really gets to me that I went to bed with the wrong man for four years. I dread to think what it does to you."
"Well, it certainly doesn't give me a hard-on."
But whilst the conversation had taken this sexual turn, I asked, "Just so as I know, there aren't any photo's or video's of you or you and Peter are there? Anything that could turn up on the Internet from an angry Peter?"
"Good Heavens! No. If I wasn't willing to even give him a blow job, even he saw it as pretty unlikely that I'd pose for nude photo's. He never even tried asking."
"Good. I just wondered. If you remember, I took some of you on that very first digital camera I had. I seem to remember you got into it even more than I did."
"I might have." She answered, and I could see she was smiling.
"Whatever happened to those photo's?" I asked, suddenly concerned.
"I destroyed them, or I hope I did. There was a copy on a CD in our bedside draw. I got rid of that. Were there any other copies?"
"No. That was it."
After a pause, I asked, "So, back to what we were talking about. What does Heather want with me?"
"I've asked that when she talks about how she thinks I ended up marrying Peter, if she ever does, then she should tell both of us. That's all."
"Oh. That's OK. I'd like to hear that. Anything to explain that little mystery of life."
After that we continued to meet every Tuesday and Thursday to talk. And those talks were good. We talked about anything and everything. Of course, when we talked about her married life to Peter I hated it, but I saw similar strain on her face when I talked about Helene. If I was honest, I talked about Helene quite a bit and quite lovingly, there was an element of revenge in those discussions. But I suspected Molly knew that, and just accepted it.
No, the real story at this time came from the people around us. Ralph did go and see Susan on the Wednesday, after Molly and I had dined with Mum and Len on the Tuesday. According to Molly, he got nowhere. She was adamant that what she had done was unfortunate but necessary to preserve her ******, and that was acceptable in her eyes. Her view of Ralph's holiday to Madeira was that it was an opportunity for him to calm down and see everything in a more reasonable manner, and she was certainly not going to go travelling to foreign places just to talk to a husband who didn't understand her. So, off he went on his holiday, alone.
It was the Friday afternoon of the next week that I got a phone call from Molly, at about four o'clock in the afternoon. I was holding a routine meeting in my office, but was more worried that we had our American partners visiting, and we wanted them to license us for a couple of new products. But, it was so unusual for Molly to phone me, that I excused myself and took her call.
"Hello, Chris?" She sounded as if she was in a panic.
"Yes, Molly, what is it?"
"It's Susan. I went to collect the boys from school, and when we got back she was sitting in her car on the drive."
"Where are you now?"
"In a lay-by just up the road from the house, you know the one?"
"And the boys are with you?"
"Yes."
"OK. You've got a key to my place. Take the boys and give them something to eat, then go to my place. If necessary they can sleep there for the night. And I'll get to you as soon as I can."
I went out to Carole's desk. "Carole, I have a problem. Susan, Molly's mother has turned up and Molly is going to be hiding in my flat with Jamie and Ben. I need to leave as soon as I can."
I heard Carole say, "Shit happens." under her breath, but she looked up and smiled reassuringly. "What do you want me to do?"
"Well, it's not an emergency. Molly can take the boys out for something to eat, and they are all quite safe. But I ought to get there as soon as I reasonably can."
"She shouldn't be scared of her own mother."
"I don't think she is. I think she's scared of what they might say to each other. But, you're right. Molly has to see Susan and tell her exactly what she thinks of her. It'll be better for both of them in the long run." I paused and did some thinking, "OK. This meeting can go on without me, I'll kick them out and into the boardroom, if it's free?"
Carole nodded, so I continued, "Can you go down stairs and see Bill Elswood? The Americans are with him, but I've got to see them before they go, and they're catching a plane back to the States tomorrow. So, tell him to find a convenient point to bring them up to my office, and I'll do my bit, and then he can look after them until they go back to their hotel. I was thinking of inviting them to dinner; if Bill can do that, or John Wheeler, then all well and good, but I'm definitely not."
"OK. Anything I can do for you and Molly. Gouge that bitches eyes out for instance?"
I smiled, "I don't think that would help somehow..."
"I'd just like to give her a piece of my mind. I'm a mother, and it makes me sick to think about what she played at...."
"I agree, but the best person to tell her is Molly, and it's my job to see that she does, or at least has the opportunity to do so."
I went back into my office, and apologised and shifted that meeting into the boardroom without me. Then I sat and waited for the Americans.
That meeting went very well. Of course, Carole was superb; from somewhere she'd managed to find an excellent Dundee cake to go with our cup of tea, I suspect the Americans thought that I always stopped in the middle of the afternoon for tea and cake. And after about three quarters of an hour, she came in to say that both John Wheeler and Bill Elswood would be delighted to take them all to dinner, and she had already booked the restaurant and arranged cars. That broke up their meeting with me, and I could pass them on downstairs.
I got home not long after five thirty, and Molly and the boys had just arrived and were watching television.
Molly looked seriously worried. Apparently Susan had left eight unanswered messages on Molly's phone in the last hour. Eventually I managed to convince her that there was only one real solution and that was for her to talk to Susan, face to face.
Molly had Susan's cell phone number, and I phoned it.
Susan answered with a suspicious, "Hello."
"Hell, Susan. It's Chris..."
You could hear the mixture of anger and disappointment in her voice. "What do you want?"
"I understand you are looking for Molly."
"Yes. She's my ********, and I want to see my two boys."
"They are not your two boys, they are Molly's and my sons. And I don't want them seeing you."
"They're my grandsons, and I have a right to see them."
"No you don't. I have joint custody of them, and I object very strongly to them being ******* to an immoral person like you. And if I have to, I'll fight you through every Court in the land to ensure that you never see them."
"You can't say that. You wait until I tell Molly. Then she'll see you for the arrogant man you really are."
"Well, you won't have to bother to tell her, she's standing right next to me."
That obviously surprised her, and there was a pause, but then she recovered, "Well, put her on the phone. Or are you banning me from talking to my own ********?"
"No, certainly not. That's why I phoned, to arrange for you to meet her. I assume you'd like to meet her?"
"That's why I'm here. Put her on."
"No. But have you got a pencil and paper, and I'll give you an address where you can meet."
There was a pause, and then she said Yes. So I gave her my address and told her to be there at seven o'clock. I gave her no options, and I just rang off.
I looked at Molly and smiled, "I don't think she likes me very much."
She smiled weakly, but then she asked, "Can we ..... should we stop her seeing the boys?"
"I only said it to illustrate that we meant business. She has to realise that you and the boys are not at her beck and call. But, it's up to you. If you can mend your fences with her, then I guess we'll have to see her sometimes. She'll enjoy seeing me having to let her see the boys. She's your mother, you have to decide, and I'll support your decision."
We worked out that to be at my flat by seven o'clock, Susan would have to be leaving her house sometime around six thirty, so at that time I put the boys in my car and set out for Susan and Ralph's place, leaving Molly to face her mother.
I'd just finished getting the boys to bed, tidying up the bathroom after the hurricane had hit, and putting their laundry in the basket when Molly was knocking at the front door. That fooled me for a moment until I remembered that I had her key.
She looked better than I expected, but she still fell into my arms for a reassuring hug.
"How did it go?" I asked.
"Horrible. I helped myself to some of your brandy afterwards, but it was whisky. I don't like whisky, but it wasn't too bad."
I smiled to myself, I knew it was good stuff, "It's 21 year old Balvenie. Do you need another, whatever Ralph keeps?"
"No. A coffee would be fine."
We went into the kitchen and she set about making some coffee. I asked, "Did she show any signs of concern that Ralph is on the point of divorcing her?"
Molly shook her head, "None at all. I don't think she's thought for a moment that he will do that. She spoke as if he was a bit upset, but he'd get over it. I think she's got a nasty shock coming, assuming he comes back from Madeira in the same mood as he left."
"But that remains to be seen." I observed.
She finished making the coffee, and we sat down on opposite sides of the kitchen table, "OK, so what did she want, if it wasn't to cry on your shoulder about Ralph?"
Molly took a calming breath, "I think she really came as an ambassador for Peter. She tried all the tricks she used four years ago. He was such a loving and nice man, and I wasn't being fair to him in not giving him a second chance. In fact I was downright cruel to have a solicitor reply to his heartfelt plea for reconciliation." She looked up at me and shrugged.
"I take it that did nothing for you? I hope it didn't."
"No. I told her that I didn't love him, and the best thing for both of us was to get a quick and easy divorce."
"But she wouldn't take no for an answer?"
"Hardly. As pleas on his behalf wouldn't work, she turned on you. You hadn't taken me back and that you never would. You'd deserted me and divorced me four years ago, and she doubted if anything has changed your mind since. When I told her that you'd hardly been given a chance what with her lies and stopping me ever coming to see you, and her trick with the letters, she didn't look guilty, not for a second. She didn't like it, but her response was that when the boys grew up, I would understand. Then she turned it against you. Not only didn't you forgive me, but when she raised the hurdle, all you did was walk away. You were a fair-weather husband. And what was more, her final reason for what a terrible husband you would make was just look at what happened. If I'd remained married to you, you would have dragged me and the boys off to London, and worst still, off to Holland for two years."
"God! What a bastard I am. I look forward to the horse's head on my pillow in the morning."
"Oh! She also wanted to know if you were living here with me. When I said No. She said that if you ever tried it, it was her house, and she'd be in Court faster than you could believe to have you ejected."
"That's just a childish response because I threatened her with Court if she came near the boys. Ignore it."
She smiled, "Well, at about that point, I lost it. I really began to attack her. I guess it was her attacking you that got me really upset. But I threw everything at her, about how she'd tricked and cheated to get me to go with Peter. I accused her of trying to prostitute me. About her lying to Ralph, about her collusion with Peter, I threw everything at her. I told her she was a selfish bitch and a disgrace to motherhood. But it was like water off a duck's back. I ended by saying that I wanted her to go, and that I never wanted to see her again, and that I would never let the boys go anywhere near her."
"How did she take it?"
"I think I shocked her. She left quite stunned at the force of my response, saying: But I'm you're mother." Again she shrugged.
"And how about you."
"Relieved, I think. But the really sad thing is that I meant every word. I hope she comes to realise that. I actually hope that I've seen the last of her, I don't ever want to see her again. I hope that Ralph does divorce her, it would be so much easier."
"Well, let's hope she doesn't hang around and make a nuisance of herself." I said. "Was she off, back to Weymouth?"
Molly looked up, "I didn't ask, but my guess is she's off to report back to Peter, but I don't know."
"And I wonder what he will do, now that he's used up the Susan tactic."
Suddenly, Molly looked at me, with a lot of concern in her eyes. But then just as suddenly, she burst into tears. I guess the enormity of the evening finally got to her. I went round the table and just hugged her.
One meeting in the afternoon included Piers, and as he came into the room he looked at me and said, "Chris, have you got a minute?"
I guessed this was going to be the latest news from the Peter front, and I was interested. My office was too full of people, but we found privacy in an empty boardroom.
Piers started as soon as the door was closed, "Peter came to see me this morning. I hadn't realised that Molly had moved out. But, apparently in this morning's post he got a set of divorce papers."
"How did he take it?"
"He is one very unhappy man. At the moment, the world is against him. And it's all your fault."
I smiled, "No surprise there then. Why can't he see that this is the consequence of his own doing. He shouldn't have tried picking up a married woman. And he shouldn't have inveigled her into marrying him with her mother's connivance. It was bound to end in tears, and lo and behold, it has."
"He doesn't see it that way. Has she moved in with you?"
I looked at him, "No." I paused, "But we are talking. We agreed we would talk everything through, and then see where we are, on Tuesdays and Thursdays."
"And how's that going?"
"Lousy. We met twice. Tuesday wasn't so bad. But last night we argued, and she went home early. Nothing dramatic, just a difference of opinion."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
I sighed, "Not now. Let's see how the weekend goes. And anyway, if I'm going to cry on your shoulder, I need whisky to mix with my tears."
He smiled, and I asked, "What's Peter doing?"
He shook his head, "I don't know. I suggested that he takes the day off, and that he goes and sees a solicitor. And I suggested that he might go off to his Welsh cottage for the weekend, that's where he seems to do his thinking. But whether he will or not, I don't know. He was still in his office when I left."
"Well it's his life, and it's up to him." I opened the door and started to head back to my office and the meeting, with Piers at my side, "As long as he doesn't make a nuisance of himself with me, Molly or the boys."
I worked on, Carole went home having had a very searching look at me, and then Myra came through my office door, with a file in her hand.
"Carole said you wanted the best projections for next quarter's figures."
I stopped and thought for a moment, "If I had wanted them I would have asked Trevor Gale."
"Oh." She said and sat down in a visitor's chair at my desk and looked at me.
"And did Carole say someone should be my friend?"
She smiled, "You don't miss a trick, do you? So, fancy a quick drink then? It is Friday night after all."
"I've got work to do. Help yourself to a whisky." I said, nodding my head towards the decanter.
"Not for me thank you. Come on, Chris, if you must do some more, then pack up some things to take home for the weekend, and buy me a G&T. I need one."
"Why?"
"Because I've got a depressed boss who's fast turning into a workaholic, and it worries me. I need someone to talk to about it all."
I laughed and admitted defeat.
We went to the pub, but not for a long drink as Myra told me that Dr Will was coming up to Bath for the weekend, which put pay to my thought that I might invite her to dinner. In fact we hardly talked about Molly, I just told her that last night was a bit disappointing, and she told me to have patience. Other than that it was Will this and Will that. It was wonderful to see her so cheerful, but it did worry me slightly. I reminded her of a phrase she'd just used about Molly and myself, "Remember Myra, it's early days."
On Sunday I turned up at Ralph's house quite early. I'd hardly said hello to everybody when Ben dragged me off to see his new bedroom. He was sharing with Jamie, which I guess they wanted to do, as there was a fourth bedroom available. I guess the two brothers were drawing together in a time of uncertainty.
As I came down stairs again, Ralph looked at his watch, "Plenty of time before lunch, how about making it a fourth time?"
"Down the pub? No, I'm here to see the boys." I looked at him and he looked disappointed, so I added, "Unless, of course, we take Jamie and Ben."
He smiled, "Sure."
I went into the kitchen where Molly was making pastry, "Ralph has suggested that he, I and the boys should go down to the pub. Are you OK with that?"
I thought she looked relieved, "Sure. Be quick and be back for one thirty."
I kissed her on the cheek, "Are you OK?"
"Yes." She said in a tone that proved she wasn't. "I'm just feeling a bit harassed with the cooking at the moment."
"Well calm down. It won't matter if it's a bit late or one of the veggies is a bit overcooked." And I left her in the kitchen.
Ralph and myself collected the two boys and we headed for the pub. We took a table in the garden and I went and got the drinks. Of course the boys sat with us while they drank their drinks, and ate their bags of cholesterol. But after that they lasted about another thirty seconds before they were off. Their excuse was that someone came in with three large and very friendly dogs, so Ralph and myself were deserted.
Ralph watched Jamie and Ben leave, "Good. I wanted a word."
"About?"
"Tell me to mind my own business, but what happened on Thursday evening? It was obvious that she came home earlier than expected, and she wasn't in a good mood. She was very quiet and withdrawn. But she won't tell me what's wrong."
I considered things for a moment, "I'm sorry Ralph, but if she won't tell you, then I won't."
He looked at me for a moment, "Quite right. I should keep my big nose out of it." And he smiled. "But if it was anything to do with Him, well I think he's a bit of a sensitive subject at the moment. Poor little Peter, all hurt, and she feels sorry for him. But it was his only silly fault. Or his and my wife's."
"And how is your wife?" I asked, grateful for a way of changing subject.
Ralph took a long draught of his beer, and considered his answer. "I know what I'm going to do. Molly doesn't know this yet, but I've decided."
"Well, don't tell me if you don't want to. Are you still seeing her?"
"Not since the letter incident. She's phoned a few times, she can't see what the problem is. And I feel that it's one of those situations where if she doesn't see there's a problem, well that is the problem." He paused and looked at me, "She just makes me so angry. She even said that as you and Molly now know the truth, and can talk as much as you like, well that's alright then. What she did hasn't done any harm. I ask you, how fucking stupid is that?"
"I expect it's just a desperate argument. Anything to paper over the cracks."
He sighed, "Well, it won't work." He drained his pint, and looked at me, "Fancy another?"
"I do, but two boys probably fancy their lunch."
Why is it that everything seems to have emotional overtones these days? Back at the house, Molly had cooked a wonderful roast leg of pork. The last time she, I and the boys had sat down to roast pork was the Sunday before we broke up years ago, precisely three days after she'd screwed Peter Davies in his flat.
I decided a frontal approach for once. "Do you remember the last time we sat down to roast pork?"
Molly looked at me across the table, "Yes. It was the first Sunday of the worst years of my life. I hope this is the first Sunday of the best years of my life."
I liked her honesty. I remembered a phrase she'd used at Longleat, that maybe, just maybe, she'd get her life back. And for a moment I wondered if she might make it. But that's stupid, there's been too much hurt, too much has changed.
When we'd finished the meal the boys were up and off. Ralph told us to sit still and that he'd get us a coffee, because he wanted a word with us both.
As we sat at the table, I looked at Molly, sitting opposite me. She had been brighter whilst we ate our lunch and had chatted, but now the cloud of doom seemed to have descended on us again, "Come on, Molly. Something is obviously wrong. What is it?"
Molly looked at me, searching my eyes, "You won't be angry?"
"I don't know. Tell me what it is and I'll tell you."
"The solicitor phoned on Friday. She said Peter would have received his copy of the petition on Friday or Saturday. And I haven't heard a word. I guess I'm worried about him, I fully expected a broadside."
"Well, Piers told me he got it on Friday morning. And he was upset but OK. And Piers told him to go and see a solicitor, and then suggested that he goes up to Wales, as that's where he goes at times like this. So maybe he has. And, no, I'm not angry." I reassured her.
I also thought: I'm not particularly pleased that you're fretting over him either, but I can understand it, so I'm not angry.
Just then Ralph returned with a tray of coffee. Once that had been served and Ralph had resumed his seat at the head of the table, he looked at both myself and Molly, "I want to talk about Susan."
I sipped my coffee and waited. I noticed that Ralph was talking to Molly rather than me, I guess I was only there to support, if Molly was upset with whatever was coming.
"We've met seven times in the five weeks I've refused to let her come home, and I've talked to her on the phone plenty more times as well. She shows no signs whatsoever of understanding that what she did was wrong. Her value system is totally wrong as far as I'm concerned. On top of which, she treats me as if I'm some little boy that's having a tantrum over a broken toy, and that I'll calm down and accept things sometime soon. She is becoming impatient, she just wants to come back here and get on with her life."
"Daddy..." That was the first time I heard Molly call Ralph Daddy for years, "Don't do anything silly on my account. Please. I hate her at the moment, but ...."
Ralph squeezed her hand, "I'm not, Molly, I promise you."
They looked into each other's eyes, I don't think I was in the room at that moment. Which is possibly why I asked, "So, what are you going to do, Ralph?"
"I've found a short holiday, it's only eleven days, out in Madeira. It flies out on Thursday week. I've checked, they've got at least eight spaces available, and I doubt whether they'll sell them all now. So, I'm going to pack up everything that is Susan's personal stuff from this house. All her clothes, her pictures, her keepsakes, absolutely everything. I may need your help with some of that, Molly. And I'm going to visit her on the Wednesday before I go. I'll give her all her stuff, and tell her what I'm doing. It'll be up to her, I will ask her to apologise for what she did to you two, and for all the lies she told me. And if she does so, then I'll ask her to come with me on the holiday and to start to put things right in our marriage. And if she doesn't do both of those things, then I guess we really are heading for divorce as soon as I come back."
Molly looked worried, "What do you think she'll do?"
"I think she bluster and protest, and I think she'll let me go alone. And I think she'll swear I deserted her for no good reason whatsoever. She doesn't think she's done anything wrong. And she won't see why she should have to go on a trip she doesn't want to go on, just to apologise for something she hasn't done."
Now Molly looked very nervous, "What happens if she comes back here when you're away? What will I say, what do you want me to do?"
Ralph paused for a moment. "I'll tell her not to. And I'll change the lock on the front door. Keep the back door bolted. Then she won't be able to get in, but I'll tell her I'm doing it. I suspect that it won't be quite legal, but she'll have to get a Court order to break in, and I can't see her doing that. And Chris will see that nothing happens to you." He turned to me, "Won't you, Chris?"
"Of course. She's been down in Weymouth for nearly five weeks, another week or two isn't going to hurt her."
Molly didn't look convinced, "I'm just scared that she'll make trouble for me and the boys."
Ralph reassured her again, "She won't. You're her ********. If anything, she's more likely to want to mend her fences with you."
Molly now smiled grimly, "Well she can't do that. And she should be scared of what I could do to her if I do see her."
Ralph smiled, I relaxed, he added, "That's more like it. I know it can't be easy, your parents splitting up at exactly the same time as you're having to go through the divorce process again. But this time, we both know that what we're both doing is right."
I interrupted, "I hope you do know what you're doing Ralph. Personally, I can understand where you're coming from, but I warn you, being divorced is a pretty lonely place to be. Trust me, I know."
Molly looked up, "Being in a bad marriage can be a pretty lonely place as well."
I looked at my watch, "I must be going. I'm flying to Stockholm tonight." I caught a concerned look in Molly's eye, "It's alright. I'll be back by lunchtime on Tuesday. It's just an important sale, and I'm doing my bit to make it happen. I'll go and say goodbye to the boys."
After a few more minutes of reassuring looks, hugs, chaste kisses and words, I was driving away.
I got back to my office just before lunch on Tuesday. Carole had arranged a working lunch in my office, just for the two of us, as a way of catching up on my day out of the office, and on my diary ahead. But before I even got as far as my office, she said, "Can you phone Ralph Tremaine? He wants a word with you semi-urgently."
When I phoned Ralph, it was that he wanted to warn me that on Monday evening, Peter had turned up, demanding to talk to Molly. Eventually, and very reluctantly, Molly had agreed to let him say his piece. It wasn't a pretty piece. At heart, it was that he wanted to try again, but it included blaming anyone and everyone for their problems, but mainly blaming me. After about half an hour of it, Molly had apparently told him that she had listened, that it didn't change anything, and would he now please leave. At that point it turned fairly ugly, and ended up with Ralph threatening to call the Police, but he did go eventually.
Apparently, Molly was very upset for the rest of the evening, and was still very quiet at breakfast. He knew she was coming to see me as planned this evening, but that I shouldn't expect too much. I promised to be very gentle with her, and that I intended to give her some gentle indication that Peter wasn't always the honest and trustworthy gentleman that he pretends.
Ralph's only advice after that was to say "Make sure you can back up everything you say, and go very, very gently." Which I promised to do.
I took home a ready for microwave Chinese meal for two, and waited for Molly. When she arrived she was dressed beautifully, she smelt wonderful, and she looked tired, drawn, pale and nervous.
She told me about Peter's visit on the Monday. It was pretty much as Ralph had described it. But Molly had obviously found it deeply distressing. It took me all of the meal to get her to relax and even smile. And I was getting pretty fed up with having to act as nursemaid because of Peter Fucking Davies!
We took our coffee and went and sat comfortably and Molly asked, "So, what do you want to talk about?"
"Well I guess the best place to start is when you first met Peter. Let's go over the story again, and in detail."
She said OK, and that's what we did. I asked questions about what they talked about, both when others were there and when there were just two of them. But, although I asked quite pointed questions, and on a couple of occasions Molly looked at me with deep suspicion, she never admitted that there was anything wrong with the relationship, or that Peter was trying to feed her ideas about having an affair.
Then we came onto the day of the adultery. I started to be very detailed in my questions. How was she exactly feeling? How quickly did Peter see the opportunity to invite her for lunch? Who's idea was it to go in one car? When she asked for a G&T and he ordered it, was it a G&T or a large G&T or a very large G&T?
She did answer that one, that it was large or very large. She thought it was just large, but he could have asked for a very large one. Was there a difference?
"Maybe. To some bartenders a G&T is a single, a large is a double and a very large is a triple."
After that, I questioned their conversation in the restaurant, was it at all sexual? Well Yes it was, but only in a joking, between colleagues sort of way. Nothing personal, nothing too pointed. When we got to the grappa incident, I asked if Peter had ever got to like grappa?
Suddenly, Molly was looking indignant, "Yes. Now he loves the stuff. He says he thinks of it as 'Our Drink'. But that's what this has been all about, hasn't it Chris? You're trying to prove that he was some bastard trying to seduce me. Well he isn't a bastard and he wasn't trying to seduce me. He's a very nice, honest man, who happened to fall into lust that afternoon, just like I did. And then afterwards he fell in love. Stop trying to make him seem something he's not."
"Honest! Honest! How honest was he with his tickets to Longleat? Was that honest? Was it honest to pretend that sweet peas were his favourite flower? Was it honest to just happen to have veal on your first date? How honest is he, Molly? He doesn't sound very honest to me?"
She stood up and started heading for the door. She grabbed her jacket and bag as she passed, "He's a nice man. You can't blame him for taking tips from Susan. She shouldn't have set him up. But it wasn't really his fault. That first time it was my fault. I wanted him. I've already told you that. I was wrong. I was a slut. But it wasn't his fault. Stop trying to blame him for everything."
By that time she was at the front door, and she was leaving and right now.
"Fucking John 11:35" was my answer to the back of my front door.
Whisky tasted good that night!
Ralph caught up with me by telephone on the Wednesday night. I had just got back to my hotel room in Oxford after a business dinner, when he phoned me.
"Yes, Ralph?"
"Chris, are you free to talk?"
"Yes. Sure."
"Well I warned you. Go gently. But you didn't."
"But I did. I can understand that she feels a bit sensitive about Peter. But there's sensitive and fucking stupidly hyper-sensitive..."
"And being even sensitive about another man can't be easy for you...."
"No it isn't, but I know it's reasonable on her part. I'll live. How is she?"
"Feeling a little guilty I think. She wouldn't tell me what you said, just that you made a totally unfair attack on Peter. But I think she feels a bit sorry now."
"One day Ralph, I'll prove to you that I wasn't in the least bit unfair. Is she coming back for more tomorrow?"
"Yes, I thought you two had agreed that you had to keep going. Let her supply the food this time, it might ease her conscience. But lay off Peter."
"OK. I think I've got some things to say or tell her about him, but maybe this isn't the time."
"Pleased to hear it. Have faith, you'll get there."
I laughed, "Could you tell me where 'there' is?"
Now he laughed, "Now that would take all the mystery and excitement away."
So, on the Thursday I found Molly in my kitchen when I got home. She was filling a saucepan with water at the sink when I came through the door, and I instantly knew there was something wrong.
"Hi. What's the matter?"
She turned towards me, it was obvious that she'd been crying. "I saw Jeanette this afternoon."
"And? It was rough? She talked about forgiveness when I saw her."
"Oh! She was quite nice to me, very nice in fact. No, it was some of the stories she told me. You know what they were. Why didn't you tell me? Why did you let me go on believing..."
I smiled, "If I remember all the way back to Tuesday, I started to try. It didn't seem to go down very well. I take it her stories included Peter and his fondness of grappa?"
"And his determination to 'get into my pants' as apparently he so delicately put it. And that's why Peter and Piers weren't talking. He even had to lie to me about that."
"What are we having? And does it go with red or white?"
"I'm not fussed, but its just pasta with a marinara sauce. White I guess, but I think I'd like something a bit stronger."
"A G&T perhaps?"
"And I had a think about that. It was definitely a large one, and I'm pretty sure it was a very large one."
"A triple! He was out to get you relaxed."
I poured two G&T's and handed her one. "It's a single-ish I promise."
"Don't. I feel such a fool. I ruined my life, our lives, for a randy guy who just wanted to get into my pants."
"Drink your drink and we'll talk about it later. Was Jeanette still a proud grandmother?"
And we didn't really talk about anything personal until after the meal. Except for one point when we did have one short conversation about Ralph and Susan, and that Molly's childhood home would probably end up being sold, but that didn't seem to worry her.
It was after we'd sat down comfortably with mugs of coffee and the remains of our wine that she said, "OK. Tell me what I missed. How did I fall for this Lothario?"
I smiled, "Can I be a little more obvious in my questions than I was on Tuesday?"
"Yes. There's no point in being subtle."
"OK. Let's assume that Peter spotted you as a girl he fancied. That maybe have been well ahead of when he introduced himself, but my guess is that it was that lunchtime when he was in the canteen and saw you eating alone. Again, my guess is that you would have made it blatantly obvious that you were married and that you had two small children, and that you loved your ******. Now, we don't know if he specialised in the challenge of married woman, or he took whatever came along, but either way, my guess is that he set his sights on you. Perhaps he had his sights on two or three others in his life at that time, at Franks he had quite a reputation."
"So, he makes sure we become friends?"
"That's what I would do if I was determined. And I guess he already knew that you'd spurned or not noticed any feelers he'd put out for a quick kill. So he knew the hunt was on. My guess is that he would try to separate you from me a little in your mind. Did he?"
She thought about that, "I don't think so. Well, maybe a bit. When I told him about how I felt, that I couldn't help you in your business life, he used to say that in his experience the wives of ambitious career guys tend to carve their own separate lives. They had separate friends, interests and relationships."
"That would be it. It's OK for you to have separate relationships."
She didn't look very pleased about that, but then admitted, "Yes, he did rather go on about building my own life."
I pressed on, "I think the other thing he would have done was just to stir you up a bit, make you think some sexy thoughts about him, every time you met. Just to make sure that you had some secret thoughts about him sexually. Nothing said, nothing overt, but a sexual awareness when you're with him."
She thought a lot about that, "Maybe. I was aware that he was a very sexy and attractive man. I wondered why he spent time with me when he had nurses swooning over him. It reinforced your other argument. I thought it must be because we were becoming such good friends."
"Well then we get to the great day. I guess that even happy chatting hospital gossip would be quite sexual, even if you didn't recognise it as being personally relevant....."
"Actually, some of the talk was about his last girlfriend. It wasn't about him and me. But it was about some girl where they had great sex, but nothing else. I thought it sounded rather sad. I felt a bit sorry for him."
I smiled, "Oh! Nice one! He reminds you how sexy he is, and how good he is at sex, and generates your feminine sympathy, all in one go. And all in a trusting, intimate friendship."
I looked at her, and she was beginning to look very uncomfortable. But I pressed on, "He was an opportunist, and he saw his opportunity. We've established that he got quite a lot of alcohol inside you. And that gave him his excuse to get you back to his flat. And then we come to the final act, when he's got you back to his lair. Now, please note that he spilt hot water down himself, not hot black coffee which would have ruined his shirt. And I bet it wasn't that hot."
"I couldn't tell. It was wet and warm by the time I got there, that's all I could say."
"But then he has to strip off his shirt and trousers. This is a man who you say was very proud of his physique. He knew what he was doing. He knew he'd look good and sexy to you. Then, when he joined you in the sitting room, after the spillage, did he have his socks on?"
She looked surprised at the question, "No."
"Men look silly wandering around in their shorts with socks on. So, after the spillage, instead of going and putting on a fresh shirt and trousers he took his socks off."
"I guess so."
"I remember you mentioned that he came up behind you in his Calvin Klein's. I assume they were a nice quality pair of boxers?"
"Yes, they were. They were black silk. He really did look rather sexy in them."
"Did he always wear black silk boxers? Everyday, I mean. You should know, you were married to him."
"No. He wears good quality branded cotton ones normally."
"But that day he just happened to be wearing a sexy pair of black silk ones. What a coincidence."
Molly drank the last of her wine and looked at me. "Hindsight is a wonderful thing, and on this occasion I literally mean hindsight. I have an image of those black boxers in my mind. And they still have the fold lines in them from coming out of a packet, brand new. Why didn't I see it then?" She paused and looked at me, "When we got to his flat he disappeared into his bedroom for a couple of minutes. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but..."
"He had time to change into a brand new pair of his seduction specials. And freshen up his cologne?"
"Probably. He smelled good." She looked at me, and her eyes welled up with tears, "But I fell for it. I still wanted it at that moment."
I looked at her, right into her eyes, "Yes you did. You shouldn't have. You did betray our marriage...."
The tears overflowed, down her cheeks.
And I continued, "He was a master. In some ways I have to admire him. He saw an opportunity, and executed it perfectly. One hundred percent successful from his point of view. But you did succumb, and you shouldn't have. But I have to admit it was far more his fault than yours, you were a victim."
"But I fell. Why didn't I see it? Girls get good at seeing that sort of thing coming. And it's taken you and Jeanette before I saw it. Why can you make it sound so obvious?"
"As I say, he was good, and he got under your radar. I see it because it's exactly what I would have done if I'd been him with his morals and his objective."
We sat in silence for quite some time, before Molly said "I think I'd like to go home now."
"And I think you should. You've had quite a day. But don't beat yourself up, it was all a long time ago, and I guess the way you and he were being pushed together by Susan, you haven't liked to be suspicious of him until now."
At the door I kissed her on the cheek, "Cheer up. Now you know the truth. Now you can deal with it."
After she left I had a weird feeling of anti-climax. At last I'd got her to see the truth. But I also had a feeling of anger and hurt. For the last couple of weeks, every emotion she'd felt, every conversation we'd had was about Peter Fucking Davies. It was Peter, Peter, Peter....
I phoned her on Friday, and asked how she was. "Thinking a lot. And getting angry" was her reply. Good, I thought. But all I did was arrange to take the boys out cycling on Sunday.
When I got them back, late on Sunday afternoon, Molly looked at me, "Have you got a minute?"
"Sure." I said and followed her into the kitchen. I could see Ralph pottering around his garden through the window.
She turned and looked at me, and held out a letter in an open envelope. "This was on the mat this morning, and there is no Sunday delivery."
I took it, it was about five hand written pages, addressed to her, and from Peter. "He delivered it himself?"
"We guess so, either late last night or early this morning. Please read it. I'm not hiding anything from you."
I did. It was mainly pleading on how they should try again, on how much he loves her, on how only he can make her happy. There was over a page on how she was deluding herself that I would ever take her back, and what an ambitious selfish shit I was, and even if I did take her back then I'd only make her unhappy. And finally, there was the sting in the tail, on how he would never agree to a divorce.
I looked at her, "What are you going to do?"
"Well, I'd already decided that I was going to see my solicitor again, as soon as possible. I'll give it to her to reply. Maybe if gets an official reply it will make him realise that he's got to let the divorce happen."
"Good idea. What were you going to see her about anyway?"
"You were right. I was seduced into ruining our marriage, and I was hoodwinked into marrying him. I should get something out of it. I want the full fifty percent, and anything else I'm entitled to."
"How will he take that? And what happens if he just doesn't do anything? If he just doesn't reply to the letters, or the divorce petition?"
"There are rules about that sort of thing. I can't remember the details, but you have to get a judge to agree that he's been given a fair time to respond and if he hasn't then the divorce goes forward anyway. But it all delays things and adds to the cost."
"And his reaction to the financial claim?"
"I think he'll hate it. When I first married him used to be very conscious that he couldn't give me as nice a house as we used to have. So he was very proud that his mother had left him enough money to afford better things. He won't like it being stripped away. But, if I have the law on my side, there won't be much he can do about it."
Good. Serves him bloody well right, I thought. But I just tried to look sympathetic. So I asked, "Will you be alright?"
"Yes. Ralph wants to come with me to the solicitors. He wants to talk about divorcing Susan."
"How do you feel about that? I can't be easy."
"I'm in two minds. I don't like the idea that my parents are getting divorced after thirty six years. But at the same time, I'm grateful that I'll never have to see Susan again. What she did was unforgivable, and I have no intention of ever trying to forgive her."
Now I was in two minds about that. I had every reason to agree with her view of Susan, but for anyone to reject their own mother so determinedly seemed sad and possibly damaging to themselves. And I did have some doubts about Ralph divorcing Susan. I could understand his disgust and anger, but after thirty six years surely there was some compromise that doesn't sweep them into the loneliness of divorce? But it was their lives and their choices, not mine.
I was thinking these thoughts when I heard Molly again, "And Chris, I want to say something else."
I looked up at her, and waited. She came and stood right in front of me, very close. "I want to say I'm sorry." She paused, "I hope you know already how deeply sorry I am for succumbing to his seduction, but that isn't what I want to say. I'm sorry that for the last few days, even today, I've been tied up in this stupid marriage to Peter. He was always a mistake, then and now. He is not the centre of my life, you are." She leant into me and went to kiss me on my lips, but then there was a moment of sadness in her eyes and she moved sideways slightly and kissed me on my cheek.
I went home that evening feeling totally muddled in my feelings. I was pleased that I was her main man, but she talked and worried about him. I was pleased that she saw Susan in a true light, but worried that no one should hate their mother. I was pleased that she saw Peter for the immoral bastard he was, but hurt that she'd married him. And so it went on. Every thought had its downside.
Partly out of duty, and partly out of need, I phoned Mum. She and Len had returned to Newcastle and were back staying with Brian and Morag. Having gone through the preliminary chat about their holiday in Scotland, and how everyone was, she obviously caught something in my voice and she interrupted something trivial that I was saying, "Chris, by the sound of it, something is troubling you. Would you like me or Len or Brian to phone you back on a landline for a proper talk?"
"Why don't you do it?" I replied.
Two minutes later my landline rang and about ninety minutes after that I put the phoned down having had a long rambling conversation with Mum. I was no wiser, but somehow I felt so much better. Mum had done nothing more than ask questions and listen to the answers, but somehow it helped.
I was just pouring myself my second whisky when my phone rang again. It was Mum, she'd had a long chat to Len. They were going to come back to Bristol on Tuesday. They'd decided that this time they were going to stay at a hotel and they invited myself and Molly to dinner at the Les Jardins on the Tuesday evening. I accepted for myself, but had to say that only Molly could accept for Molly, but that I'd speak to her.
On the Monday morning I know I was a bit short tempered, and on the second cup of coffee Carole sat down and looked at me. "Can I take it that life is a bit of a problem at the moment? The next hurtful instalment?"
So I brought her up to date, but also told her how muddled I felt. She looked at me, "When you invented this twice a week talking idea, you must have known you were launching into a long and very hard process. I'm sure there will be times when you feel you love her, other times when you will feel that you hate her. But most of the time you just won't know what you feel. But when you get to be able to answer that question, well you'll have got to the end, whatever it turns out to be."
"I'm not sure that fits your Shit Happens view of life."
"Think of yourself sitting in that sewer, with shit washing over you. You'll be grateful for the breaks when no one flushes. This isn't one of them."
I smiled. And as Carole left my office, I phoned Molly to ask her to come to dinner with Mum and Len on Tuesday evening. Of course she agreed.
Molly was waiting for me at my flat when I got in from work on Tuesday evening. I asked how the meeting with the solicitor went.
"OK. My bit was quite quick and matter of fact. She'll write to Peter telling him that he has to stop making threats and answer the Divorce Petition, or we'll go to Court and proceed anyway. And she'll lodge the financial claim. I told her to make it the reasonable maximum, was that right?"
I smiled, "It was as far as I'm concerned. He owes you, big time."
"Well after that it was mainly about Ralph and Susan. When Ralph had finished telling his story, she did ask if we wanted to make a legal claim for damages against Susan, but I said No. You don't want to, do you?"
Again I said, "No."
Then I went for a quick shower and a change of clothes. Once I was ready we were heading for Les Jardins. As we drove along, I said "You know Mum is going to quiz you on how we're getting along?"
"Don't worry. I've survived your mother's inquisitions before."
"When?"
"Before we got married. You don't think I was allowed to marry you without passing the test first, do you. I discussed it with Margot once. We reckon it was exactly the same questions, in exactly the same order for both of us, and on the same pretext of having a girl's afternoon shopping."
I laughed.
Dinner wasn't anywhere near as gruelling as I was expecting. Mum was full of stories about Brian and his ******, which I guess had an ancillary function of advertising ****** life. Len was full of stories of their Scottish holiday. Only at one point did I hear Mum start questioning how Molly and myself were doing. I was talking to Len at the time, about what had made him and his first wife emigrate to Australia in the first place, when I noticed Mum pull Molly's arm so that they stepped away from us. Immediately, my ears pricked up, but Mum had her back to me and I couldn't hear what she was saying.
But I did hear Molly, "No. I thought all I would have to do was wear a short skirt, bat my eyelashes once or twice, and we could get back to where we once were. But, we've met four times now to talk about things, and they have been horrid. It's not Chris's fault, but I'm having to face up to so many horrible things, about myself, about other people, and about how much I hurt Chris. Susan used to say that he'd be OK, that men don't worry about these sort of things, and I believed her. I was wrong. So, don't push him, he's doing remarkably well, considering."
Mum must have said something, because Molly went on, "Considering that all I've talked about really for two weeks is Peter, one way or another. Can you think about anything worse than talking about the other man, and yet Chris hasn't complained, he has always seems to be taking my feelings into account, when things must be painful for him as well."
Again Mum said something, and Molly replied, "Yes. But I'm only just beginning to realise that."
Then I heard Len break into my attention with, "I'll just keep talking. You nod once in a while and say Yes or No, so that they think we're talking and you're not listening to them." Which amused me, and for which I was grateful.
By the time I tuned in again, Molly was saying, ".....if it doesn't work out it won't be Chris's fault, or mine. It's just that we can't put it back together. But I know he'll try, even if he doesn't know it. And at the same time, I really do have my doubts. I didn't, but these first two weeks have taught me that."
We were onto the coffee before Mum turned to Len, "I don't think there is anything we can do for these two. We can go home?"
"Tomorrow if you like, and if they have space on the plane." Len answered.
Mum turned to me, "There is nothing we can do to help, is there? But you must phone every week, and whenever a chat will help."
And so, outside Les Jardins, we said goodbye. I did promise to go to Australia for Christmas, whatever happens. And I did thank her so much, for coming all this way just in the hope that she could give me my happiness back. It was out of her hands now, maybe it was out of mine and Molly's hands as well.
In the car, going back, Molly did tell me that she'd started talking to Heather Washington. Apparently it was very informal, they had just agreed to get together for two lunchtimes a week, in Heather's office with Molly supplying the sandwiches. So far they've got no further than Molly telling her story, and Heather asking what aspects of it trouble Molly the most.
"And what did you choose?" I asked.
"Why I got to such a state that I married Peter. Its something that I don't understand, and I was there. And I know it troubles you, probably more than me."
"Any idea what she's going to do, what her methodology is?"
"Well, obviously the big questions are what was the state of my mind at that time, and what influence did Susan have, and what was it that made Peter acceptable?"
"Yes, I guess so."
"Well, apparently she thinks there are tests that I can do, even this long after the event, that will tell us something about how I felt, how I reacted, all those years ago. That assumes that I can remember what I felt and did to the extent of answering questions. Heather's researching it at the moment."
"Oh. Well I guess we'll have to wait."
"And she wants to meet you and talk to you at sometime."
"Oh No she's doesn't. I told you, I don't do talking about my bed wetting at the age of two, or whether you fucking Peter gives me a hard on, or it just reduces me to tears."
"I know the answer to that one, and it didn't do anything for your trouser department."
"Do I hear a tinge of regret? That a threesome was in your dreams."
"Certainly not. I've read and fantasised a lot in the last four years, mainly around you. But the idea of sharing you, or of you sharing me is one of the biggest turn-offs I can think of. In some ways, I think it might have helped if I didn't feel so strongly about that. It really gets to me that I went to bed with the wrong man for four years. I dread to think what it does to you."
"Well, it certainly doesn't give me a hard-on."
But whilst the conversation had taken this sexual turn, I asked, "Just so as I know, there aren't any photo's or video's of you or you and Peter are there? Anything that could turn up on the Internet from an angry Peter?"
"Good Heavens! No. If I wasn't willing to even give him a blow job, even he saw it as pretty unlikely that I'd pose for nude photo's. He never even tried asking."
"Good. I just wondered. If you remember, I took some of you on that very first digital camera I had. I seem to remember you got into it even more than I did."
"I might have." She answered, and I could see she was smiling.
"Whatever happened to those photo's?" I asked, suddenly concerned.
"I destroyed them, or I hope I did. There was a copy on a CD in our bedside draw. I got rid of that. Were there any other copies?"
"No. That was it."
After a pause, I asked, "So, back to what we were talking about. What does Heather want with me?"
"I've asked that when she talks about how she thinks I ended up marrying Peter, if she ever does, then she should tell both of us. That's all."
"Oh. That's OK. I'd like to hear that. Anything to explain that little mystery of life."
After that we continued to meet every Tuesday and Thursday to talk. And those talks were good. We talked about anything and everything. Of course, when we talked about her married life to Peter I hated it, but I saw similar strain on her face when I talked about Helene. If I was honest, I talked about Helene quite a bit and quite lovingly, there was an element of revenge in those discussions. But I suspected Molly knew that, and just accepted it.
No, the real story at this time came from the people around us. Ralph did go and see Susan on the Wednesday, after Molly and I had dined with Mum and Len on the Tuesday. According to Molly, he got nowhere. She was adamant that what she had done was unfortunate but necessary to preserve her ******, and that was acceptable in her eyes. Her view of Ralph's holiday to Madeira was that it was an opportunity for him to calm down and see everything in a more reasonable manner, and she was certainly not going to go travelling to foreign places just to talk to a husband who didn't understand her. So, off he went on his holiday, alone.
It was the Friday afternoon of the next week that I got a phone call from Molly, at about four o'clock in the afternoon. I was holding a routine meeting in my office, but was more worried that we had our American partners visiting, and we wanted them to license us for a couple of new products. But, it was so unusual for Molly to phone me, that I excused myself and took her call.
"Hello, Chris?" She sounded as if she was in a panic.
"Yes, Molly, what is it?"
"It's Susan. I went to collect the boys from school, and when we got back she was sitting in her car on the drive."
"Where are you now?"
"In a lay-by just up the road from the house, you know the one?"
"And the boys are with you?"
"Yes."
"OK. You've got a key to my place. Take the boys and give them something to eat, then go to my place. If necessary they can sleep there for the night. And I'll get to you as soon as I can."
I went out to Carole's desk. "Carole, I have a problem. Susan, Molly's mother has turned up and Molly is going to be hiding in my flat with Jamie and Ben. I need to leave as soon as I can."
I heard Carole say, "Shit happens." under her breath, but she looked up and smiled reassuringly. "What do you want me to do?"
"Well, it's not an emergency. Molly can take the boys out for something to eat, and they are all quite safe. But I ought to get there as soon as I reasonably can."
"She shouldn't be scared of her own mother."
"I don't think she is. I think she's scared of what they might say to each other. But, you're right. Molly has to see Susan and tell her exactly what she thinks of her. It'll be better for both of them in the long run." I paused and did some thinking, "OK. This meeting can go on without me, I'll kick them out and into the boardroom, if it's free?"
Carole nodded, so I continued, "Can you go down stairs and see Bill Elswood? The Americans are with him, but I've got to see them before they go, and they're catching a plane back to the States tomorrow. So, tell him to find a convenient point to bring them up to my office, and I'll do my bit, and then he can look after them until they go back to their hotel. I was thinking of inviting them to dinner; if Bill can do that, or John Wheeler, then all well and good, but I'm definitely not."
"OK. Anything I can do for you and Molly. Gouge that bitches eyes out for instance?"
I smiled, "I don't think that would help somehow..."
"I'd just like to give her a piece of my mind. I'm a mother, and it makes me sick to think about what she played at...."
"I agree, but the best person to tell her is Molly, and it's my job to see that she does, or at least has the opportunity to do so."
I went back into my office, and apologised and shifted that meeting into the boardroom without me. Then I sat and waited for the Americans.
That meeting went very well. Of course, Carole was superb; from somewhere she'd managed to find an excellent Dundee cake to go with our cup of tea, I suspect the Americans thought that I always stopped in the middle of the afternoon for tea and cake. And after about three quarters of an hour, she came in to say that both John Wheeler and Bill Elswood would be delighted to take them all to dinner, and she had already booked the restaurant and arranged cars. That broke up their meeting with me, and I could pass them on downstairs.
I got home not long after five thirty, and Molly and the boys had just arrived and were watching television.
Molly looked seriously worried. Apparently Susan had left eight unanswered messages on Molly's phone in the last hour. Eventually I managed to convince her that there was only one real solution and that was for her to talk to Susan, face to face.
Molly had Susan's cell phone number, and I phoned it.
Susan answered with a suspicious, "Hello."
"Hell, Susan. It's Chris..."
You could hear the mixture of anger and disappointment in her voice. "What do you want?"
"I understand you are looking for Molly."
"Yes. She's my ********, and I want to see my two boys."
"They are not your two boys, they are Molly's and my sons. And I don't want them seeing you."
"They're my grandsons, and I have a right to see them."
"No you don't. I have joint custody of them, and I object very strongly to them being ******* to an immoral person like you. And if I have to, I'll fight you through every Court in the land to ensure that you never see them."
"You can't say that. You wait until I tell Molly. Then she'll see you for the arrogant man you really are."
"Well, you won't have to bother to tell her, she's standing right next to me."
That obviously surprised her, and there was a pause, but then she recovered, "Well, put her on the phone. Or are you banning me from talking to my own ********?"
"No, certainly not. That's why I phoned, to arrange for you to meet her. I assume you'd like to meet her?"
"That's why I'm here. Put her on."
"No. But have you got a pencil and paper, and I'll give you an address where you can meet."
There was a pause, and then she said Yes. So I gave her my address and told her to be there at seven o'clock. I gave her no options, and I just rang off.
I looked at Molly and smiled, "I don't think she likes me very much."
She smiled weakly, but then she asked, "Can we ..... should we stop her seeing the boys?"
"I only said it to illustrate that we meant business. She has to realise that you and the boys are not at her beck and call. But, it's up to you. If you can mend your fences with her, then I guess we'll have to see her sometimes. She'll enjoy seeing me having to let her see the boys. She's your mother, you have to decide, and I'll support your decision."
We worked out that to be at my flat by seven o'clock, Susan would have to be leaving her house sometime around six thirty, so at that time I put the boys in my car and set out for Susan and Ralph's place, leaving Molly to face her mother.
I'd just finished getting the boys to bed, tidying up the bathroom after the hurricane had hit, and putting their laundry in the basket when Molly was knocking at the front door. That fooled me for a moment until I remembered that I had her key.
She looked better than I expected, but she still fell into my arms for a reassuring hug.
"How did it go?" I asked.
"Horrible. I helped myself to some of your brandy afterwards, but it was whisky. I don't like whisky, but it wasn't too bad."
I smiled to myself, I knew it was good stuff, "It's 21 year old Balvenie. Do you need another, whatever Ralph keeps?"
"No. A coffee would be fine."
We went into the kitchen and she set about making some coffee. I asked, "Did she show any signs of concern that Ralph is on the point of divorcing her?"
Molly shook her head, "None at all. I don't think she's thought for a moment that he will do that. She spoke as if he was a bit upset, but he'd get over it. I think she's got a nasty shock coming, assuming he comes back from Madeira in the same mood as he left."
"But that remains to be seen." I observed.
She finished making the coffee, and we sat down on opposite sides of the kitchen table, "OK, so what did she want, if it wasn't to cry on your shoulder about Ralph?"
Molly took a calming breath, "I think she really came as an ambassador for Peter. She tried all the tricks she used four years ago. He was such a loving and nice man, and I wasn't being fair to him in not giving him a second chance. In fact I was downright cruel to have a solicitor reply to his heartfelt plea for reconciliation." She looked up at me and shrugged.
"I take it that did nothing for you? I hope it didn't."
"No. I told her that I didn't love him, and the best thing for both of us was to get a quick and easy divorce."
"But she wouldn't take no for an answer?"
"Hardly. As pleas on his behalf wouldn't work, she turned on you. You hadn't taken me back and that you never would. You'd deserted me and divorced me four years ago, and she doubted if anything has changed your mind since. When I told her that you'd hardly been given a chance what with her lies and stopping me ever coming to see you, and her trick with the letters, she didn't look guilty, not for a second. She didn't like it, but her response was that when the boys grew up, I would understand. Then she turned it against you. Not only didn't you forgive me, but when she raised the hurdle, all you did was walk away. You were a fair-weather husband. And what was more, her final reason for what a terrible husband you would make was just look at what happened. If I'd remained married to you, you would have dragged me and the boys off to London, and worst still, off to Holland for two years."
"God! What a bastard I am. I look forward to the horse's head on my pillow in the morning."
"Oh! She also wanted to know if you were living here with me. When I said No. She said that if you ever tried it, it was her house, and she'd be in Court faster than you could believe to have you ejected."
"That's just a childish response because I threatened her with Court if she came near the boys. Ignore it."
She smiled, "Well, at about that point, I lost it. I really began to attack her. I guess it was her attacking you that got me really upset. But I threw everything at her, about how she'd tricked and cheated to get me to go with Peter. I accused her of trying to prostitute me. About her lying to Ralph, about her collusion with Peter, I threw everything at her. I told her she was a selfish bitch and a disgrace to motherhood. But it was like water off a duck's back. I ended by saying that I wanted her to go, and that I never wanted to see her again, and that I would never let the boys go anywhere near her."
"How did she take it?"
"I think I shocked her. She left quite stunned at the force of my response, saying: But I'm you're mother." Again she shrugged.
"And how about you."
"Relieved, I think. But the really sad thing is that I meant every word. I hope she comes to realise that. I actually hope that I've seen the last of her, I don't ever want to see her again. I hope that Ralph does divorce her, it would be so much easier."
"Well, let's hope she doesn't hang around and make a nuisance of herself." I said. "Was she off, back to Weymouth?"
Molly looked up, "I didn't ask, but my guess is she's off to report back to Peter, but I don't know."
"And I wonder what he will do, now that he's used up the Susan tactic."
Suddenly, Molly looked at me, with a lot of concern in her eyes. But then just as suddenly, she burst into tears. I guess the enormity of the evening finally got to her. I went round the table and just hugged her.
