When I left work I drove straight to see Molly at Ralph's house. Ralph was mowing the front lawn, and just nodded his head in the direction of the house. I found her in the kitchen, sewing a patch on a pair of Ben's jeans.
She looked up and smiled, "This is special. These trousers are actually wearing out before he's grown out of them. That's a rarity these days."
I kissed her on the top of her head, "That's the trouble with children, they grow up when you're not looking."
"What brings you here?"
I sat down at the table, opposite her, "I had a ..." I paused, "Let's call it a discussion with your nearly ex-husband. I have some hope that maybe he will be there tomorrow night. I think I convinced him that it was his best bet."
She stopped sewing, and just looked at me for some time, "Why is it so important to you that I meet him with you there? I've been sitting here thinking, and I'm coming resigned to the idea that I'll meet him on his terms. Does it really matter if he takes me out to dinner or something?"
Now that was a good question, "I'm sorry, but I don't think I can answer that one without giving it a bit of thought. But you're right, it is important to me."
She looked up at me, "Take your time, as long as I get an honest answer." She paused, "Have you eaten tonight? There's some cold roast beef in the fridge if you want a sandwich."
"That would be perfect, I had a big lunch."
"I know. I smelt your breath. A touch of garlic by any chance?"
"Sorry." I said, as I raided the fridge.
As I made my sandwich, I was thinking about her question. There seemed so many aspects, and some pretty big pitfalls in it.
Molly just chatted on, but I pricked up my ears when she said, "I was chatted up at work today."
I tried to not show my feelings as I asked, "Who by?"
"A doctor. Dr Ian Wilson. He's early forties. Apparently he had noticed that I didn't have a ring on my finger anymore, and thought I might appreciate some company. He's got his children for next weekend, and he thought that I could bring our two, and take them all out somewhere. He suggested that we go to Longleat."
Suddenly we both burst out laughing, and we were close again.
As I rejoined her at the table with my sandwich, I said "OK. I think I can answer your question now."
She put her sewing down, and just listened, "You have to accept that Peter and I do have a personal relationship. He came into my life uninvited. He caused me, my boys and my wife more hurt than I would ever have thought possible. I can't forgive him that, I never will. And I want to know that he has gone out of my life for ever, and seeing him go will be far better than just hearing about it second hand. But more than that, I would like to see him totally vanquished. It may not be a very nice side of my character, but I'd admit I would quite enjoy seeing him crawl out of my office tomorrow evening, beaten and in tears."
I watched her, she didn't like that bit. She didn't want to see Peter beaten and in tears.
But before she protested, I continued, "But there is also an element of simply not trusting him. After all I've got good reason not to. If he took you to dinner, I'm not saying he'd seduce you, I'm sure he wouldn't. You'd probably drink mineral water all evening, just to make sure he didn't. But I have to admit that he has something special for you, that he does have a proven ability to get under your skin. And he just might manage to get you to agree to meet again, and then again and again, and the whole clever process starts again."
I looked at her, and she was obviously about to protest at that, but I stopped her, "I know you would say that it would never happen. But you can't blame me for worrying about it."
This time she did say something, "No. Never. For as long as I live, never."
I smiled, and then looked at her with what I hoped was sheer earnestness, "And possibly most important of all: we are and always have been in this dreadful situation together. We face whatever life sends together, and that includes facing up to nearly ex-husbands who are causing problems."
Molly's eyes misted, and she just stood up and came over to me and kissed me passionately. But all she said was, "How many cloves of garlic was it?"
I smiled, and she added, "Stay with me tonight. Please."
"If Ralph doesn't mind, sure. But I'll have to leave early in the morning for my place, I've got no clean clothes here."
Just then, Ralph came in and went over to the sink to wash his hands. "Ralph, would you mind if I slept over tonight? I don't want to cause you any embarrassment."
"You won't cause me any embarrassment." He turned round to look at me and then at Molly. "Is one of you going to tell me what's going on? Molly's been upset all day."
So we told him that we hoped to bring the Peter problem to a showdown tomorrow night. By the time we'd finished he had washed his hands and was pouring himself a glass of orange juice.
He closed the fridge door, and again looked at us both individually, "Peter came between you two, that's the essence of your story. Don't let him do it again. Don't let him win."
It was the next morning, just as I was leaving, that I met Ralph in the hall. He smiled, "I've never thought of your office as the OK Corral, ... " He paused to look me right in the eye, "Make sure you kill him off this time."
That image of a shoot out stayed with me all day. But by about four o'clock in the afternoon I think I felt more like Gary Cooper in High Noon, with the clock at about 11:55.
Carole sensed my nervousness, and seemed to just be quiet, efficient and calm. She did ask if I wanted anything laid out in my office, and I suggested some cans of drinks might be nice, and then added that a box of tissues should be there, which did make her smile.
She asked, "You do know where the first aid cabinet is, don't you Chris?" which I ignored, but told her that I would suggest that she goes home at about five thirty. She looked crestfallen, "But I've been selling tickets. How will I be able to show people to their seats in the spectators stands?" Which made me smile, and I was grateful for that.
When I got back to my office from an Accounts progress meeting at five thirty, I found Molly sitting in Carole's office, and chatting happily, despite how drawn she looked. After a few words of greeting, Carole said she needed a quick word with me about some things, and she followed me into my office, handing me the usual sheaf of notes.
"Chris, I don't know what you can do about it, but she's as nervous as a kitten. If anyone says boo to her she'll burst into tears."
"I'm not sure I'm much better. I thought about working myself up into a righteous rage, but I've got to remain calm, because I suspect it'll be the other two who'll get emotional. But thanks, Carole. Thank you for caring."
She smiled, "Well, best of luck. And I'll see you in the morning."
As Carole left, Molly started to come in, getting a hug from Carole as she passed. "Can I come in and wait here? Or will I disturb you?"
"Don't be silly. Come on in. Choose your seat carefully, I will sit at my desk, so that I'm slightly out of it. But I suggest you sit somewhere where we can see each other. Then you can send me Morse Code messages by batting your eyelashes."
She didn't laugh, but she did sit at one end of a sofa, directly facing me. I worried for a moment that he would try sitting right next to her, but then I couldn't imagine he would really try getting physical. We made small talk, or I made small talk, Molly just gave me monosyllabic replies. And then, at five to six, there was a tap on my door, and there was Peter Fucking Davies.
"Peter, come in, and shut the door." I said, I hope quite firmly.
He stepped into the middle of the room, and saw Molly. He went to rush over to her, but I stopped him by firmly saying, "Before we start, I want to be very clear, this is a private meeting. It has nothing to do with ITI or this company in anyway whatsoever. We are just using this office as a convenient venue." I paused and he looked at me, but didn't say anything. So I finished off, by saying, "Please sit down. You wanted to talk to Molly. So please do."
He sat down on the same sofa as Molly, but at the other end. So I had a good view of both of them. He looked at me, questioningly.
"I'll stay here. This is an opportunity for you to say whatever you want to Molly. Please do." I looked at Molly, "Are you OK with that?" She nodded.
I turned back to some papers on my desk, not that I could focus on them at that moment, but I could pretend.
After a long pause I heard, "Molly, this isn't right. This isn't the way that our wonderful marriage should end. We need to talk. I love you, and whatever you're thinking, I want to go on loving you and being married to you."
"I'm sorry Peter. It takes two to make a marriage, and I don't love you. I never have."
"But....but .... But you do love me. You've said so, so many times." He paused, "I can understand that you want a fresh start, that you feel Susan forced you to marry me. But I've given you your freedom. I accepted that you wanted to break free from the history of the old relationship. But now you are free. You have your decree nisi, and we have only a few weeks to try to put things right with a fresh start."
"I don't see why you think that I will regret it now. Why would I suddenly change my mind about the divorce?" There was genuine puzzlement in Molly's voice.
"But Chris said you'd look on our marriage differently once you had your freedom. That you'd remember all the good things. You said that, didn't you, Chris?"
I looked up, "I never said any such thing. All I said was that you should give Molly the divorce she asked for. For once you should do the right thing. And that if you did, then Molly might remember you with some affection, as opposed to you making her hate you in a long protracted divorce. But your not helping with the nuisance you've been making of yourself recently."
I met his eyes, but then he accused me again, "You told me that she'd told you how good our marriage was. That she'd remember all the good things." He turned to Molly, "You do remember the good things, don't you Molly?"
Molly nodded, "We had some nice times."
"Nice times? Nice times? We had wonderful times." Peter glanced at me, "Remember our honeymoon in the Maldives. How we made love with the windows open onto that marvellous view of the Indian Ocean. How you wanted me, how I pleased you."
Again he glanced at me. I wondered if this was more about hurting me than winning Molly.
Molly didn't say anything, so he went on, "We were good in bed. I know I pleased you more than he ever did. You opened up to me, you know you did. How I could please you with my mouth like he probably never did." He paused and seemed to collect his thoughts, "You changed me. I fell in love with you and I've never been the same since. I've loved you and stayed faithful to you ever since that wonderful day in my flat. Our first time, and the day my life changed."
Molly didn't say anything. Peter looked at me again, and this time I felt I could see hate in his eyes, but then he turned back to Molly, "You think you love him. I know you cling to that silly notion. But, can't you see, he doesn't want you. You've had months now, and he still hasn't taken you back, has he? He hasn't and he won't. You'd only get in the way of his ambition, his need to go wherever ITI send him. He doesn't want you or the boys. I do."
Again he paused to glance at me, but then turned back to Molly, "I don't understand. I'm a better lover than he ever was. I have been there for you when he walked out on you. I've taken care of you and even his children for years. And now you want to desert me because of some silly idea that he'll take you back?"
At that point, the pencil I was holding in my fingers just snapped into two pieces. The noise distracted them for a moment.
Molly recovered first, "I love him." She looked straight into my eyes, as if Peter wasn't there, "And I hope that he will take me back." She refocused on Peter, "But that's irrelevant. It's not about me swapping one husband for another. I don't love you Peter."
"But you said you did, so many times. You said you were over him, and that you loved me now. You said we had a marriage that would last a lifetime. You said it on every anniversary. It was your toast to me, to our love. And I believed you, but more importantly, you believed it as well, I know."
"I wanted to believe it. I tried to love you, but I never did. I said it to convince myself as much as you. But I didn't, I'm sorry."
"You lied!" He said it almost in triumph, but with a very bitter undertone.
Molly didn't like that, "I wouldn't talk about lies in our marriage if I were you, Peter. You lied and lied and lied. You know you did. You lied to get into my pants. Isn't that the romantic phrase you use? Well you lied your way into them. And you went on lying and lying and lying. Our whole marriage was based on lies and cheating and collusion."
That outburst from Molly did stop him for a moment. He picked up a can of drink and stood up. He paced up and down in silence for a while, the silence only broken by the 'phhht' of him opening the can.
But then he turned back to Molly, and sat down again, this time with his back to me, "I know I did. I really am sorry about that. In some ways I'm ashamed of what I did. But it brought me you and the happiest years of my life. And I can't regret that. But don't you see? Now that all of it is out in the open, it's a chance to start again. For me to prove that I do truly love you. Give me a chance Moll, please, meet me and let's talk. Not like this, not with him breathing down our necks. You owe me that, at least. I gave you four happy years, I deserve a chance, please."
Molly lent forward and picked up a can and a glass, and poured herself a Coke. She looked up at Peter, "Well, while we're being open and honest, tell me something. How often did you meet with Susan or talk to her on the telephone as you plotted and schemed to push me into marriage?"
I could hear the regret and guilt and hesitancy in his voice as he answered, "Quite often. Three or four times a week, I suppose. She laid down her terms. She didn't make it that obvious, but I knew how I was meant to answer her questions to get her on my side. That I had to promise to marry you, not just have an affair. But I wanted that, so it was easy to agree. And I had to promise to stay in Bristol. But don't you see, Molly? It wasn't all my lies, your own Mother believed that we were a good match. She believed in me, you can't just blame me for everything that happened."
Molly looked shocked, but then a smile of acceptance crossed her face, "Peter, our whole marriage was based on lies. And they went on and on, through all the years." Again, she paused and sipped her drink, "When you came back to forgive me on the night of the Ball, you said we could go to the Ball, or we could go to Our Restaurant and have a meal and talk and finish with a glass of grappa, Our Drink. Because until that first lunchtime with me in Our Restaurant, you'd never ***** Grappa, had you? Even in trying to salvage the marriage, you went on lying. Five years after the first set of lies, you went on using them to try to recapture what they brought you first time around."
"But grappa is Our Drink. Don't you remember, I didn't like it when I first tried it, but because of you, because we drank it on our first time, I tried again. And I learnt to love it."
Molly looked at him with disgust, and in a very bitter voice, "And you go on lying even now."
For a moment he was silent, and then he looked round at me, "This is your doing. God, you did your research well. Who was it? Who told you? It must have been someone at the Abbey. You've used your position to sneak around and talk about me with my colleagues. You disgust me."
"Why? Did you have something to hide?" I innocently asked.
For a moment he looked nonplussed, but then he smiled, and still looking at me, "It was a good trick. It's normally quite high proof you know, and I don't know how many times I used it on girls and it always worked." He was proud of his deceit.
He turned back to Molly, "But, after you, grappa did become special. It helped bring me you."
"Don't you mean it helped you get into my pants?" She asked with heavy sarcasm, but then she paused, "In some ways I can understand a man fancying a girl, even if she is married. But I had children, but you couldn't even respect my duty and love for them."
"And I took them in. I did learn to love them. You didn't want more children, and they were the nearest I ever got to having sons of my own. I loved them, even when they did try to provoke me." He looked round at me, but then back to Molly. "Even when they started calling me Elsie. Do you know what that meant? It wasn't the girl's name. It was the letters L and C. They stood for Little Cock." He stood up and looked round at me, "I wonder where they got that idea?"
I smiled in my genuine innocence this time, "Is it true?"
He didn't answer me, but turned back to Molly who was obviously thinking. And then she asked, "And how do you know what it meant?"
"It was written on their blackboard in their den." He said with pride at providing conclusive proof..
Molly looked at him with disgust, "You went in there? You couldn't even keep a promise to young children! You disgust me. Our marriage was never anything but dead. Just accept it."
He sort of collapsed back onto the sofa, "No it was never dead. It was the most vibrant thing." He paused, "I'm sorry that I lied, that I pretended. I suppose I should have confessed at some time. If that really troubles you we could go to a counsellor. That girl Heather that you know. Or any other one. Or we could go away together, to talk, to rediscover each other." I heard his voice lighten and raise, "We could go back to the Maldives. You'd like that. Our special place."
He looked round to check on me. I sat, blatantly listening, there was no pretence any longer. But he seemed satisfied that I was not going to interfere, "You could take a few days out, next week say, and come away with me. If I can't convince you to try again, then I'll accept it, but surely you could come for a week in the Maldives? We could even go back to our honeymoon hotel if you like. Please Molly, please."
Molly leant forward and took one of his hands in hers, and spoke in a deliberate, reasoned voice, "You're not listening Peter. I don't love you. I never have. And a week in the Maldives isn't going to make me love you."
"But....but....you're my wife. I want to take my wife on holiday. Just for a week. Is that too much to ask?"
"Yes Peter, it is."
Suddenly I saw his shoulders shake before I heard the sound of his sobs. Molly looked at me, I wasn't sure what she wanted, but there was a question in her eyes. I shrugged, I wasn't quite sure what she or I should do. She got up from her seat, and went and crouched in front of him, and took hold of both his hands, forcing him to look at her.
"Peter, you were the one who always said that I still loved Chris. You knew it, it can't really have been a surprise that I eventually admitted it."
He sniffed, a wet ugly snort of a sniff, "But....but I only used to say that because I knew what your answer would be. You would always say that you didn't, and that I was your man now, that you loved me. I only ever said it because it would make you say that you loved me, and I needed that."
"I'm sorry. I lied. For once, you were telling the truth and I was the one lying. I'm sorry." But then her expression changed, she stood up, pulling her hands from his. "But you knew that, you aren't a fool, Peter. In your heart you knew it, like I did. That was your insecurity and guilt. You'd seduced me and trapped me into marriage, but you knew it wasn't real."
"No. It wasn't all lies. You did love me. I know you did. And you will do again. When you realise........" He took a tissue from the box on the table and blew his nose. "Come to the Maldives please, Molly. We can have separate rooms if you like. But if you could get away from him just for a few days, then you'd realise what a mistake you're making."
"Why would I want to rebuild a marriage with you? With a man who lied and cheated and colluded to get me to marry him in the first place." Her voice was rising. I looked into her face, it was obvious some demons had suddenly been released from their chains. I considered calming her down, to stop what I knew was coming, but it wouldn't be right to interfere between a man and his wife. And anyway, why should I interfere to save him?
Molly stepped backwards and in an icy but raised voice, continued, "I used to like you, Peter. I used to respect you. But now I know what sort of man you are. You lie and cheat to get what you want. I wanted to love you, I really did. I lost so much when you came into my life, I had to believe that it was all worthwhile. But it wasn't, I knew it and you knew it. And, No, you never pleased me in bed. I haven't the faintest idea whether you're a good lover or not, but I can tell you this: you never did it for me."
Peter stood up, hurt and shocked. His voice went up a decibel or two, "That's a lie. You accuse me of lying, but that's the biggest lie of all. I left you satisfied so many times, almost every time. You never refused me, you always wanted sex, and you know you did. And why? Because you knew it would be good, better than he ever gave you. You know it."
"Rubbish. I only orgasmed when I fantasised. I got good at that. I had to. And I promise you, you were never even in the room in my fantasies."
"I don't believe you. We were happy. You were happy until he came back into our lives. Then you started this wishful notion that he would take you back. What was it? His money? His power and prestige? We have money. I've just settled half my own mother's money on you. You have money now. You don't need your stupid fantasies about him. He isn't going to give you the love, the security, and no, not even the good sex that I can give you." He paused, both of them were standing facing each other, eyes blazing, "I may have cheated as you call it to get into your life, but I don't live with some stupid fantasy that Chris Bennett still loves you and will take you back. You cheated on him. OK I made you do it with my skill as a lover, but you cheated on him, and he isn't going to forgive you and take you back. Come home Molly, let's start rebuilding what we once had."
Molly's eyes were still blazing, "We never had it. All we ever had was lies and guilt and wishful thinking. You know it Peter, and so do I." She paused and took a big breath; her eyes softened and she visibly calmed down, "There's a lot of you that is good Peter. Just try to be decent and go and find a woman who will love you for the right reasons."
Suddenly the confrontation was over. Both their shoulders sagged, and a silence invaded the room.
Peter turned to me, as if he had suddenly remembered my presence, "How could you do this? You accuse me of interfering in your marriage, and now you do exactly the same to mine. You hypocrite. You selfish bastard. You told me yourself that Molly and I had a good marriage, yet you must have your revenge. You know you aren't going to marry her, yet you let her destroy our good marriage. You fucking bastard."
Behind him I saw Molly stiffen in anger, and I spoke to her rather than him, "No, Molly. Let him go. Let him believe whatever he wants. He used to believe that he could interfere in other people's lives with impunity. Does it really matter if he now believes that he's an innocent victim? Let him go."
Peter turned and looked at Molly, "You will realise. And I will wait for you until you do. I promise. I love you Molly Davies, I love you. And anytime you want to go to the Maldives, and recapture what we once had, I'll be there for you." And he brushed past her and just walked out.
Molly and myself just looked at each other for a moment, and then her eyes filled with tears, and I was round my desk and holding her in my arms.
"Thank you, Chris. I was scared you'd really tear into him, and you didn't." She gave a half sob half laugh, "I did, but you didn't. Why did you stop me at the end? I was about to launch into him again, he had no right to say those things about you. I thought you wanted him to leave here in tears and yet you saved him. Why?"
"Because I suddenly realised I didn't care about him. I didn't care what state you left him in. You gave me so much this evening. By saying what you did, somehow I felt I'd won, I didn't need to prove it, and I didn't care if he knew it or not."
After a pause, we broke apart, and I cleared my desk to go home. "How about I buy you dinner? You deserve it." I asked, in as normal a voice as I could manage.
She ignored me, and asked, quite hesitantly, "He did raise an interesting question."
I looked up at her, "Surely it isn't a matter of would I accept you back? I love you, and I've said so, and I have no problem saying so. It's a matter of whether we both want the same future, together or apart. And we've still got some weeks to go before your divorce is finalised, let alone doing anything about us. Is that OK?"
She looked disappointed as she always did when she pushed me, and I gave her the same answer, but she said, "I said I'd wait for as long as it takes."
I smiled, "Well it's going to take longer than today. But we are moving in the right direction."
Over dinner Molly didn't seem to want to talk about the meeting with Peter. It was all too painful. I know she had wanted him to go away without her having to say things which would only hurt him, but it had come to that, and she wasn't proud of what she'd said or done. So, I tried to stay off the subject.
But I did have to ask once more about her sex life with him, "Tell me again because I still don't understand. How could you bring yourself to have frequent sex with him if you knew you didn't love him and knew that it wasn't going to do anything for you?"
She smiled forlornly, "It was just something that a wife does for her husband. Like ironing his shirts. I didn't want him to be unhappy, and he loved me and he needed sex, it was the least I could do. It had nothing to do with my sex life, that was erotica and dreams of you." She looked up and into my eyes, "I'm sorry. Knowing that I gave myself to him must hurt you so much."
"Actually, less than you would think or certainly less than I thought it would. The first time, the time in his flat, that hurts, it hurts like Hell, but not after that. It was what was to be expected."
The next day, I had a call from Piers at the end of the afternoon, "Fancy a drink?"
"No, I can't. I've got a business dinner to go to. But I take it you want to know how it went last night?"
"I know how it went. My Deputy is one of the living dead. And more dead than living."
"That bad?"
"When I saw him this morning, I took one look at him and said he should go home. But he said he couldn't. That bastard Bennett would delight in giving him another warning letter or the sack if he did. Apparently you are fucking enjoying this, destroying his life for no good reason. He's a good mind to report him to Head Office for it."
"What did you say?"
"That he hadn't got a leg to stand on. I told him to just get on with his work and to keep his head down."
"Good. If you want some of the gory details, and I don't think Molly would want you to have them all, why not come over to dinner tomorrow night with Jeanette? I reckon it's time that Molly and myself started going public."
And that's what they did. Molly wasn't very happy about it when I phoned and told her. I think she only went along with it out of a sense of duty rather than any feeling of making a progressive step, or even of the pleasure of entertaining friends.
It was Jeanette that came straight to the point, whilst we were having pre-dinner drinks. She looked at Molly and just asked, "Other than whisking you off to the Maldives, did he have anything worthwhile to say? Anything to redeem himself."
Molly looked at me with a very accusing look. I looked at Piers with a very questioning look.
Piers smiled, "Sorry. When I went into Peter's office just before lunch on Thursday, he was reading a travel brochure. He had it open at all-inclusive trips to the Maldives. I asked him if he was thinking of going on holiday, and he said he hoped to be going on one very soon. Remember, I had no official idea about the evening's meeting. He certainly wasn't consulting me."
Molly looked hurt, "He had it all planned out. He thought he could buy me back with a trip to the Maldives. But if he thinks so little of me that he can lie and manoeuvre, then why shouldn't he think that I can be bought?"
I found it rather satisfying that since Molly's initial confession to me, Peter was now going down and down in her eyes.
The evening wasn't a great success. Molly was tense. Myself and Jeanette were OK, in fact we worked hard to keep the whole evening afloat. But Piers slowly went quieter and more sullen as the meal progressed. He brightened up a bit when I gave him a glass of my Balvenie, but even that didn't cheer him a lot. Eventually, just before eleven o'clock, Jeanette took him home.
It took him nearly took weeks to explain himself and apologise. One evening, at about six o'clock he turned up in my office with bottle of Glenkinchie.
"This time I've been the fucking bastard, so I thought I owed you this."
I smiled, "I'm rather glad you were, if this is what it does." And I got up and poured us a couple of whiskies.
As we sat down, I just waited. Piers smiled, "I'm sorry. And I owe Molly a big apology." He sighed, "I guess my distain at how Peter acted, what he did years ago, was beginning to wane. What I saw, more and more, was just a hurt broken man. A man that I used to think of as a friend was just a shell of his former self, and I'd lost a friend and a great working partnership. And then, when we came to dinner, I couldn't help but think about the dinners we'd had with her and Peter. And I felt that she'd been personally lying to me for all those years. She was the smiling, loving wife of a friend and colleague, that's how I knew her. And all of it was pretence. Sorry, but I took it personally."
"And now?"
"And now I've put it into proper perspective, or Jeanette has done so for me. I was a bit part player in the scene. How I was treated was inevitable and immaterial. And, what else could she do, until she plucked up the strength to do what she did. I'm sorry."
After that we went on chatting, but as I hadn't made much more progress in my thinking, there wasn't much of a personal nature to talk about. Instead, we talked about Franks, and ITI, mainly considering the possibility of letting Franks Engineering down in Exeter float free.
Myself and Molly cruised along fairly happy, but there was always a shadow of what Peter might try doing before the decree absolute could be gained at the end of October.
There was Molly's birthday before that, on the 14th October, which was a Sunday. I had to be in London on the Friday before hand, so she came up by train and joined me. We had a nice dinner on that Friday night, and great sex at our hotel afterwards. It was the Saturday that was special, for once I went clothes shopping for a woman and with her at my side. We were on the lingerie trail. I was determined that all the sexy stuff that Peter had bought her, and that I'd enjoyed, should be thrown away. Instead, we spent time buying her complete outfits of both super-sexy playtime lingerie, but also several sets of genuinely nice lingerie for her to wear in the daytime. I wanted her to honour her holiday promise that she would be in sexier clothes underneath whatever she was wearing. Stockings were a must for most of the time as far as I was concerned, and she seemed happy with that. Her only argument was that she would only wear hold-ups in the evening, for all day wear she complained that they either slipped down or were like tourniquets on the thighs to stay up. We bought all sorts of sexy tights, sheer throughout ones, ones with sexy little pantie shapes built in, suspender ones, different colours, with patterns, with seams, without seams, you name it; but they were only for fun or for days when it was cold. The sexier side of things was mainly g-strings and thongs, and many of them were to match the bra and pantie sets bought for day wear. There were a couple of bras that didn't hide a lot, and one waspie that I liked and a couple of basques. There was one fantasy item that I saw and insisted on. It was a sort of waspie basque thing, it had shoulder straps, but a totally open bra, that would leave her breasts totally free, and suspenders and a matching g-string. I wasn't sure when I'd get her to wear it other than in the bedroom, but whenever that was, I was looking forward to it.
On the Saturday evening we went to see the musical Chicago, so we were singing all the songs as we drove back to Bristol late at night. As we drove along, I couldn't help but think just how my life had changed since I first drove this car to Bristol in February. At that time I knew I was driving into the unknown, but never in a month of Sundays would I have ever considered what has happened as even a remote possibility. Those thoughts made me determined not to try and predict the future ever again.
On the Sunday, her actual birthday, I gave her my official present, a new bicycle. Molly instantly saw the significance, that I was inviting her on my days out with the boys. And we celebrated her birthday with a ****** bike ride, a pub lunch and a lot of loving laughter.
When we got back to Ralph's house, I noticed his expectant look. He obviously had hopes that I would have proposed to Molly on her birthday. I hadn't and he was disappointed.
Peter didn't seem to do anything to stop the finalisation of the divorce. It went through like clockwork. His solicitor dealt with the financial settlement, and Molly got her money. At work, as far as I could understand, Peter was working well. People said he was quiet, and slightly withdrawn, but he was there every day, and did his work. I hardly saw him, we only met once in a while on the design committee for the new laboratories, but he was straightforward and business like then. If we met in a corridor, we would pass with barely a nod.
On the night of the decree absolute I took Molly out to dinner. I knew that this was the end of one chapter for her, but it opened the chapter for me when people, especially Molly, would expect me to take the next step. I took that theme as a pre-emptive strike.
I raised my glass, "Congratulations on putting Peter behind you. Now we are free to really talk about the future, to what we each want, and to find out if we really can make it together."
I thought that sounded quite positive, and Molly joined me in the toast. But then she said, "I know what I want, even more than when I made my confession. I love you and I want to be Mrs Molly Bennett again." And she looked me in the eye, and just waited. When I looked back and didn't flinch, she added, "And I can wait."
I was thoughtful for a moment, before I said, "It's funny. When we were young I simply fell in love with you and just knew that I wanted to marry you. I didn't really think about the future or what we faced and whether we could make it. I just proposed because I loved you. Now I want to be so sure, doubly certain, that we can make it through. I love you, I know that. But whether we can have a successful second marriage I simply don't know."
Molly's eyes filled with tears, "It's because I hurt you so much. I can understand that you don't want to risk that ever happening again. I just don't know what I can do, I'm just so sorry."
"You're right, I am scared. But it is more than that. I want to be sure that I can make you happy. That I can give you the life you want and deserve. You've had a pretty rough few years, you deserve to be happy and to have the life that you want. And I need to know that I can give you that, and that it's a life which would make me happy."
There was a silence between us for some minutes. Molly dried her eyes on her handkerchief, and the waiter came along and cleared the plates. When he'd done that, I decided to change the subject.
"Well I know something, a very minor something, that I do want. I want you to meet Myra Hepsted and preferably become friends. And I want to meet Myra's other half, Dr Will, the archaeologist from Exeter. How about that I set up that we have dinner with them one night, nothing special, just a friendly dinner somewhere?"
I've never heard a more reluctant "OK" than the one I got that night.
So, a week later, on the following Friday, four of us went out to a rather nice little bistro pub in Bath. Gosh, it was fun! I could talk to Molly, and I could talk to Myra if I didn't mind either Molly's or Will's eyes boring into the back of my head. And I could talk to Will, that wasn't too bad, he was at least capable of making polite conversation, but there was no warmth there. The sad thing was, he was a nice guy. The only good bit of the evening was that Molly and Will seemed to get on OK, in fact they seemed to quite like each other.
First thing on the Monday morning, Myra was sitting opposite me at my desk, "Don't blame me, Chris, it was your fault. You suggested it."
"There must be someone I can delegate the blame to. That's what being MD is all about. I didn't get to this job by accepting my share of the blame." I smiled.
Just then Carole came in carrying two coffees. "Ah, here's a likely candidate." I said, cheerfully. "Just admit it was all your fault, Carole, and I'll see what I can do to save your job."
"Am I allowed to know what was all my fault?"
So we told her, and Carole burst out laughing. "Just tell them that they're stupid idiots."
Almost in union, Myra and myself echoed, "We've done that. It didn't work."
"Oh." Was all Carole said, and as she left, "Shit happens."
And then I had an idea, "Carole come back." I shouted.
When she had returned, "See if you can find out what is going on at the rugby and football on Saturday. I want to take Will for a good afternoon out, and preferably drink too much and do a little male bonding. Find out what's my best bet, rugby or football."
Myra smiled, "You won't have to drink too much. Will doesn't have a strong head on him. Am I meant to take Molly on a girl's shopping trip when that's going on?"
"How could she refuse you?" I said and smiled. "Let's hit the problem head on."
Carole came back not much later to say that rugby was my best bet. Apparently a regular younger group of staff and young doctors were going, and their tradition was to have a good time, as she described it.
I phoned Will with the invite, and he couldn't very well refuse. Then I told Molly that I had to go to the rugby on Saturday, and that I'd invited Will. She could refuse the idea of shopping with Myra, and almost did. It was only when I said I would need her to drive me home from Bath that she eventually relented, and agreed.
Getting the alcohol into Will was quite easy. He is a nice guy, and was happy to have a beer or two at rugby. But it loosened his inhibitions just enough for him to really have a go at me about using my position to seduce an innocent girl like Myra. When I protested and told him how it was, he mumbled that 'that was what she told me.' But, having got it out of his system, and with another beer, we suddenly became good friends.
When Will and myself got back to Myra's flat we found the two girls happily chatting. They looked at a fairly ***** Will, and I knew I was not at my most sober. Molly just looked at me and said, "Your plan worked then."
I looked at Myra, accusingly.
Myra glanced at Molly, smiled and said, "It worked completely. Which is why we could talk about it."
As Molly drove us home, she glanced at me, "Sorry. She is really a very nice person. And she is very fond of you in a good friend sort of way."
"I'm very fond of her in a good friend sort of way." I answered and smiled.
On the Monday morning, I got Carole to hunt Myra down, and she turned up in my office just before lunch.
"OK. I used spectator sport and alcohol, what was your secret?"
"She obviously hasn't shown you. We found a gorgeous dress, I think we both wanted it, but it was a bit low cut. So I told her she has better boobs than me, which is true, and that it would look far better on her. The younger woman gave way to and flattered the older woman. Hey presto! Problem solved. And don't tell her I said that. Ever."
"Said what?" I asked.
It was on the Tuesday evening that Molly turned up at my flat in a low cut and rather too dressy a dress for just dinner in the flat.
"You look nice. We're obviously going out to dinner."
Molly just stepped back slightly from me, lifted the skirt up to her waist. She had stockings and no panties, and her pussy was completely shaved, "I thought you might like to eat in."
And I did, and she seemed to quite enjoy it - twice. When we were lying quietly, she asked, "Have I got to keep it like this always?"
"Oh, No. It's nice and different, but just once in a while. Not all of the time. But it was good. Am I allowed to say that it was a lot better than the last time I tried it? I think that's because I love the girl this time."
"Then you're allowed to say it, this once. I want to leave the past behind, all of the past."
And that led to a long discussion about the future. At first, Molly's only view of the future was to be at my side. But, after a lot of cajoling, she painted a picture of her dream future. And it was certainly with me at her side, but in all other respects it was very different to the view of the future that I had. Suddenly, a very large spanner had been dropped into the works.
I was in two minds as to whether I should talk it through with Molly. It seemed so inevitable that it could be the end of whatever it was we had going. She wanted domesticity and ****** life in England. I was ambitious and would go anywhere ITI chose to send me, and my dreams were nothing to do with where I lived; to me the world was just one big village. Of course I wanted the woman I loved at my side, and I wanted to be a good ****** man, but my ambitions were for the business, for the money, for the prestige. Until I had a clearer view, I decided not to say anything.
I fancied chatting it through with someone. But Myra was doing a week's work in London, as her work at Franks started to run down. Piers and Jeanette were on holiday. And Carole had only one thing on her mind that week, this 70th wedding anniversary up in Stroud which was happening next weekend. So I kept my own counsel.
But over the weekend, I began to get troubled by something else. Was I just finding problems, excuses not to commit myself? Of course our future was a big question, but if I could solve it, then what? If a fairy god-mother came down and gave both myself and Molly the same dreams for the future, would I dash off and propose? I wasn't sure.
On the Monday morning, Carole seemed a lot happier, and I felt safe asking, "I assume the anniversary party went well?"
"It went marvellously. And so many came. I met cousins I don't think I've ever met before, from all over the country. I had a lovely long chat to a cousin, she must be a bit older than me and she's done ever so well for herself, she married well, she didn't marry a plumber. And I'm sure I've never met her before, it was a lovely surprise."
"Good. I'm glad, after all the hard work you put in." I smiled, "Can you see if Myra's in, and ask Neil Davidson if he's got any good candidates for the Client Services Director. If he hasn't, then tell him to put it on hold, a bit of a reorganisation is running through my mind."
Neil came to see me as soon as Carole saw him, and we scheduled a time to sit and talk about some reorganisation ideas. And Myra was still in London, so no heart to heart there then.
It was just before lunch that Carole buzzed me, "I've got Mrs Frances Parkinson on the line for you."
"Frances, how nice to hear from you."
"Chris. I'm in Bath for a few days, while Parky's out of the country. I was wondering if you could keep me company tonight with a spot of dinner?"
"I'd love to Frances." What else could I say to the wife of my boss? But to be honest, dinner with Frances was always a pleasure. "Where are you staying? I'll book something nice."
"No, I'll book it and it'll be a light dinner in my suite at the Royal Crescent Hotel. I see enough restaurants, eating in suits me when I get a chance. Seven o'clock say?"
"I'd be delighted. Thank you, I shall look forward to it."
I was honoured. On a spare evening The Old Man's wife thinks of me as a dinner companion.
I got to Bath in good time, and even managed to park my car. As I walked along the Royal Crescent I felt quite overwhelmed by the sheer majesty of the perfection of this arc of Georgian splendour. It seemed a combination of science and nature that was somehow bigger than mere man.
When I got to the hotel I was shown to her suite. Frances was waiting to greet me, a picture of elegance and matronly determination, but with kind twinkling eyes behind her glasses.
After our greetings, she asked me to pour us some drinks from the considerable range of drinks laid out on the side. She asked for a vodka and tonic whereas mine was gin.
"So, Frances, what brings you to Bath. It's a beautiful city, and wonderful shopping, but was there a reason?"
"I come from this way. Cirencester actually, and I still have a lot of ****** down here. There was a big ****** celebration this weekend, and Parky was away, so I thought I might as well come anyway. It was a 70th wedding anniversary."
I turned and smiled, "And you were the distant cousin that's done ever so well for herself. What a fantastic coincidence."
"I'm sure I've never met Carole before. Neither of us had any idea. And now you know, don't tell anyone. I don't think Carole wants it known at work that she's related to the wife of the CEO."
"She always said she had a big ******." I observed.
"Well we had a good talk." She looked straight at me, "We had so much to talk about."
"Me, for instance. Did I pass?"
"I think we very quickly established that we had the same view of you. And Yes, I guess you could say you passed."
It wasn't long before we'd finished our drinks and anyway a waiter was delivering our dinner.
"We're having vichyssoise followed by sea bass, and just some cheese afterwards. I hope that's OK for you?" She said as we sat down. And who was I to argue?
Once we were seated and had started our soup, Frances asked, "Carole tells me that you've been trying to build a new relationship with your ex-wife. How's it going?"
I wasn't surprised, and I did wonder how much Carole had told her. After all, Carole knew almost everything.
"Surprisingly well. I thought the best I could hope for was to build some sort of friendship that would allow us to give our two sons as good a chance as they can have. They've been the victims for too long."
"Jamie and Ben, isn't it? It must have all been very hard on them, but made easier if they know that they are loved by both of you."
I noticed she knew their names. Was that from years ago, when I've talked about them, or was it that Carole had named them? Either way, I had to admire her caring memory.
"Yes. They seem to have survived, but who knows what deep damage it has done? That worries me. I really got to the point where I thought myself and Molly could put it all back together, and for their sake I was certainly willing to try. I know I love her, but just recently, I'm beginning to believe that it would never work out."
"Carole said you'd been really thoughtful and worried for the last few days. She didn't like to ask what the problem is."
I smiled, "I must really have been bad for Carole to be too scared to ask. I thought she was just wrapped up in her anniversary plans."
"Would you like to tell me about it? I haven't been married to Parky for thirty years without knowing how to listen."
And Yes, I did. I knew I'd wanted to talk it through, and Frances was an excellent listener. It took me the rest of our soup to tell her some of Molly's and my story.
"So what's the problem? Why the doubts?" Frances asked, as a waiter appeared, apparently unbidden, to serve our sea bass.
"Last week we started talking about the future. Of course, Molly started with saying that her only future was beside me, wherever I go, which is loving and nice, and exactly what I would expect her to say. But I pushed her to try and talk about what she really wanted, and beyond the fact that she was fed up with her current job, and wanted to go into private practice, which was a surprise, I learnt nothing."
I sipped my wine, but Frances just went on eating her fish and waiting.
"So I asked her just to paint me a word picture of our future life, just a snapshot that seems to sum it up."
"And what did she paint?" Frances asked.
"A classic domestic happy ****** picture. A farmhouse kitchen, the baby happily sitting in a high chair. And that was news, I hadn't any idea that she still wanted another child. I know that she's sensible enough to know that we both have to want that, but it was unexpected, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. But the whole domestic scene, I come in from work, our sons are happily sitting at the table doing their homework, she's cooking the ****** dinner. You can paint the perfect English middle class domestic scene."
"I can't say I'm surprised. I wouldn't have minded some of that in my life. So, what's your picture?"
I paused, gathering my thoughts, "I guess it's me coming home to a Manhattan penthouse apartment. A chauffeur driven limo, of course. My wife waiting for me on the terrace, with dry martinis at the ready, and she's dressed in a beautiful designer ball gown. I just have time to shower and change into my tux, before we are whisked off in that same chauffeur driven limo to some opening somewhere. As we drive, we put in our daily call to our boys, who are in boarding school back in England, and we tell them how we're looking forward to our ****** holiday on our yacht down in the Bahamas, say. How's that? It's a long way from a farmhouse kitchen in England."
Frances didn't answer, she just went on eating her fish, and I waited. Eventually, she looked up and sipped her wine. Then she seemed to change subject completely.
"It was interesting at the anniversary party. Some people were jealous of my life, others were horrified." She paused and looked at her watch. "I think Parky is just about to get on a plane in the Philippines, heading for Sydney, Australia, but I'm not quite sure, I get in a muddle with time zones once the international date line gets involved. Some had sympathy that my home is a London apartment, and I am not quite sure where my husband is or even what time it is with him. Some were really sorry that I had to bring up three children with a husband that works twelve hour days seven days a week and is out of the country for half of his time. Others were jealous that I'm rich and on Christian name terms with prime ministers and presidents, and that Buckingham Palace is almost a second home these days. That I've travelled the world, first class; that I have opportunities to sit on the boards of major institutions and charities, and maybe just help a bit in doing some good in the world."
"And how do you judge it? I hope you've been happy."
She smiled, "Oh, I've been happy, and I don't know if I'd have been any happier if life had turned out differently."
I waited.
"But, I've always had an escape clause. Personally, that made it possible, it's the only way that I've been able to face the compromises of life. I know that I'm doing whatever it is because, however much I hate that moment, I'm there voluntarily. I do have an alternative. One day I'll want to give it all up, I'll want to buy a nice manor house in the Cotswold, near Cirencester say, and go back to my roots. There I'll have my retired husband, and I'll play golf with him for a couple of afternoons a week. And I can have my children and grandchildren down for big ****** Christmas's and catch up on some of the things I've been missing. And that will all start happening when over dinner one evening I say to Parky that it's time. My pact with Parky is that we live his life until I want something different. I know that if I say to Parky now is the time, then by nine o'clock the next morning Parky will have resigned as CEO. There is no question. It's how we make it work."
"Dare I ask how long he's got?" I asked, knowing she had every right to say she couldn't and shouldn't tell me.
"It's getting less, but he's got some things he still wants to achieve, and he's got some time yet."
I smiled, "OK. What does he want to achieve? There's nothing in the company mission that's a particular milestone for him."
Frances looked at me, considering what to say, "Now I am talking out of turn. I can tell you some things, although I probably shouldn't." She paused again, making up her mind, "He wants to make me Lady Parkinson, which I have to admit I'd like. He wants to see you and Patrick Redmond on the main board. He wants to be sure that Gerry Amersham doesn't inherit his crown when he goes. He wants to see all divisions operate on all five continents, so that he can truly say that ITI has a worldwide span. And a few other things that I can't tell you, and probably a few more that I don't even know."
Again apparently without being summonsed, the waiter appeared and cleared the table, and laid out a cheese board.
When he'd withdrawn, Frances looked at me, "That Manhattan apartment and chauffeured limo can be yours, Chris. But you have to want them, and be prepared to sacrifice an awful lot to achieve them. I've allowed, yes allowed, Parky to do it. But that was because I wanted them to. And we've been very lucky because he has achieved so much for both of us."
"And where does that leave me with Molly?"
"She will have to be happy being like me. In the early years it was a new home, frequently in a new country, every four or five years. Then there was critical, heartbreaking years, of putting my children in the care of the cabin staff as they flew back to Britain to their boarding schools where I wouldn't see them for weeks on end, leaving me on the concourse in tears, and going back to an empty apartment because Parky was off somewhere or other. Yes, I put up with it, and we have the benefits of the material winnings and the prestige now. But I paid for them in my tears and lonely nights and maybe in some regrets. But we do have a good life now, as empty nesters. I don't know whether it was a good bargain, but we got through it and have our winnings to show for it. But both of you have to want those winnings awfully badly."
I nibbled a piece of Brie and said, "You make it sound as if you had years of unhappiness. I couldn't ask her to do that. Did you know what you were letting yourselves in for when you started?"
"No. I knew I loved a burningly ambitious man, and as I loved him I was willing to follow him wherever he went. At first it was the Navy and for him to travel the world. Then it was ITI and to build a business. Achieving his ambitions has made him happy, Parky loves his job and I want to see the man I love happy. But, because of our pact, I know he loves me more than his job. I need that, otherwise I would have given up on him long ago." She popped a grape into her mouth and smiled.
She rose, the meal was over. "Lets sit down more comfortably, they'll bring us some coffee in a minute."
As we waited for the coffee, I was quiet and for a moment I was deep in thought. I heard Frances's voice, "Have I helped or hindered?"
I smiled, "Both. You've helped in that you've crystallized the problem. I know that Molly isn't like you, she doesn't have that need for great achievements or super wealth. She would follow me anywhere, I know that, but I don't think she'd be truly happy. And I couldn't do that to a woman I love. It seems to me that there is no avoiding it, I've got to choose between the woman I love or the job and company that I love. But it's a two edged sword. If I did give up the job I love and go off and become a bean counter somewhere, well that wouldn't work because then I wouldn't be happy. That isn't a formula for a happy marriage either."
She looked up and smiled, "This is special. These trousers are actually wearing out before he's grown out of them. That's a rarity these days."
I kissed her on the top of her head, "That's the trouble with children, they grow up when you're not looking."
"What brings you here?"
I sat down at the table, opposite her, "I had a ..." I paused, "Let's call it a discussion with your nearly ex-husband. I have some hope that maybe he will be there tomorrow night. I think I convinced him that it was his best bet."
She stopped sewing, and just looked at me for some time, "Why is it so important to you that I meet him with you there? I've been sitting here thinking, and I'm coming resigned to the idea that I'll meet him on his terms. Does it really matter if he takes me out to dinner or something?"
Now that was a good question, "I'm sorry, but I don't think I can answer that one without giving it a bit of thought. But you're right, it is important to me."
She looked up at me, "Take your time, as long as I get an honest answer." She paused, "Have you eaten tonight? There's some cold roast beef in the fridge if you want a sandwich."
"That would be perfect, I had a big lunch."
"I know. I smelt your breath. A touch of garlic by any chance?"
"Sorry." I said, as I raided the fridge.
As I made my sandwich, I was thinking about her question. There seemed so many aspects, and some pretty big pitfalls in it.
Molly just chatted on, but I pricked up my ears when she said, "I was chatted up at work today."
I tried to not show my feelings as I asked, "Who by?"
"A doctor. Dr Ian Wilson. He's early forties. Apparently he had noticed that I didn't have a ring on my finger anymore, and thought I might appreciate some company. He's got his children for next weekend, and he thought that I could bring our two, and take them all out somewhere. He suggested that we go to Longleat."
Suddenly we both burst out laughing, and we were close again.
As I rejoined her at the table with my sandwich, I said "OK. I think I can answer your question now."
She put her sewing down, and just listened, "You have to accept that Peter and I do have a personal relationship. He came into my life uninvited. He caused me, my boys and my wife more hurt than I would ever have thought possible. I can't forgive him that, I never will. And I want to know that he has gone out of my life for ever, and seeing him go will be far better than just hearing about it second hand. But more than that, I would like to see him totally vanquished. It may not be a very nice side of my character, but I'd admit I would quite enjoy seeing him crawl out of my office tomorrow evening, beaten and in tears."
I watched her, she didn't like that bit. She didn't want to see Peter beaten and in tears.
But before she protested, I continued, "But there is also an element of simply not trusting him. After all I've got good reason not to. If he took you to dinner, I'm not saying he'd seduce you, I'm sure he wouldn't. You'd probably drink mineral water all evening, just to make sure he didn't. But I have to admit that he has something special for you, that he does have a proven ability to get under your skin. And he just might manage to get you to agree to meet again, and then again and again, and the whole clever process starts again."
I looked at her, and she was obviously about to protest at that, but I stopped her, "I know you would say that it would never happen. But you can't blame me for worrying about it."
This time she did say something, "No. Never. For as long as I live, never."
I smiled, and then looked at her with what I hoped was sheer earnestness, "And possibly most important of all: we are and always have been in this dreadful situation together. We face whatever life sends together, and that includes facing up to nearly ex-husbands who are causing problems."
Molly's eyes misted, and she just stood up and came over to me and kissed me passionately. But all she said was, "How many cloves of garlic was it?"
I smiled, and she added, "Stay with me tonight. Please."
"If Ralph doesn't mind, sure. But I'll have to leave early in the morning for my place, I've got no clean clothes here."
Just then, Ralph came in and went over to the sink to wash his hands. "Ralph, would you mind if I slept over tonight? I don't want to cause you any embarrassment."
"You won't cause me any embarrassment." He turned round to look at me and then at Molly. "Is one of you going to tell me what's going on? Molly's been upset all day."
So we told him that we hoped to bring the Peter problem to a showdown tomorrow night. By the time we'd finished he had washed his hands and was pouring himself a glass of orange juice.
He closed the fridge door, and again looked at us both individually, "Peter came between you two, that's the essence of your story. Don't let him do it again. Don't let him win."
It was the next morning, just as I was leaving, that I met Ralph in the hall. He smiled, "I've never thought of your office as the OK Corral, ... " He paused to look me right in the eye, "Make sure you kill him off this time."
That image of a shoot out stayed with me all day. But by about four o'clock in the afternoon I think I felt more like Gary Cooper in High Noon, with the clock at about 11:55.
Carole sensed my nervousness, and seemed to just be quiet, efficient and calm. She did ask if I wanted anything laid out in my office, and I suggested some cans of drinks might be nice, and then added that a box of tissues should be there, which did make her smile.
She asked, "You do know where the first aid cabinet is, don't you Chris?" which I ignored, but told her that I would suggest that she goes home at about five thirty. She looked crestfallen, "But I've been selling tickets. How will I be able to show people to their seats in the spectators stands?" Which made me smile, and I was grateful for that.
When I got back to my office from an Accounts progress meeting at five thirty, I found Molly sitting in Carole's office, and chatting happily, despite how drawn she looked. After a few words of greeting, Carole said she needed a quick word with me about some things, and she followed me into my office, handing me the usual sheaf of notes.
"Chris, I don't know what you can do about it, but she's as nervous as a kitten. If anyone says boo to her she'll burst into tears."
"I'm not sure I'm much better. I thought about working myself up into a righteous rage, but I've got to remain calm, because I suspect it'll be the other two who'll get emotional. But thanks, Carole. Thank you for caring."
She smiled, "Well, best of luck. And I'll see you in the morning."
As Carole left, Molly started to come in, getting a hug from Carole as she passed. "Can I come in and wait here? Or will I disturb you?"
"Don't be silly. Come on in. Choose your seat carefully, I will sit at my desk, so that I'm slightly out of it. But I suggest you sit somewhere where we can see each other. Then you can send me Morse Code messages by batting your eyelashes."
She didn't laugh, but she did sit at one end of a sofa, directly facing me. I worried for a moment that he would try sitting right next to her, but then I couldn't imagine he would really try getting physical. We made small talk, or I made small talk, Molly just gave me monosyllabic replies. And then, at five to six, there was a tap on my door, and there was Peter Fucking Davies.
"Peter, come in, and shut the door." I said, I hope quite firmly.
He stepped into the middle of the room, and saw Molly. He went to rush over to her, but I stopped him by firmly saying, "Before we start, I want to be very clear, this is a private meeting. It has nothing to do with ITI or this company in anyway whatsoever. We are just using this office as a convenient venue." I paused and he looked at me, but didn't say anything. So I finished off, by saying, "Please sit down. You wanted to talk to Molly. So please do."
He sat down on the same sofa as Molly, but at the other end. So I had a good view of both of them. He looked at me, questioningly.
"I'll stay here. This is an opportunity for you to say whatever you want to Molly. Please do." I looked at Molly, "Are you OK with that?" She nodded.
I turned back to some papers on my desk, not that I could focus on them at that moment, but I could pretend.
After a long pause I heard, "Molly, this isn't right. This isn't the way that our wonderful marriage should end. We need to talk. I love you, and whatever you're thinking, I want to go on loving you and being married to you."
"I'm sorry Peter. It takes two to make a marriage, and I don't love you. I never have."
"But....but .... But you do love me. You've said so, so many times." He paused, "I can understand that you want a fresh start, that you feel Susan forced you to marry me. But I've given you your freedom. I accepted that you wanted to break free from the history of the old relationship. But now you are free. You have your decree nisi, and we have only a few weeks to try to put things right with a fresh start."
"I don't see why you think that I will regret it now. Why would I suddenly change my mind about the divorce?" There was genuine puzzlement in Molly's voice.
"But Chris said you'd look on our marriage differently once you had your freedom. That you'd remember all the good things. You said that, didn't you, Chris?"
I looked up, "I never said any such thing. All I said was that you should give Molly the divorce she asked for. For once you should do the right thing. And that if you did, then Molly might remember you with some affection, as opposed to you making her hate you in a long protracted divorce. But your not helping with the nuisance you've been making of yourself recently."
I met his eyes, but then he accused me again, "You told me that she'd told you how good our marriage was. That she'd remember all the good things." He turned to Molly, "You do remember the good things, don't you Molly?"
Molly nodded, "We had some nice times."
"Nice times? Nice times? We had wonderful times." Peter glanced at me, "Remember our honeymoon in the Maldives. How we made love with the windows open onto that marvellous view of the Indian Ocean. How you wanted me, how I pleased you."
Again he glanced at me. I wondered if this was more about hurting me than winning Molly.
Molly didn't say anything, so he went on, "We were good in bed. I know I pleased you more than he ever did. You opened up to me, you know you did. How I could please you with my mouth like he probably never did." He paused and seemed to collect his thoughts, "You changed me. I fell in love with you and I've never been the same since. I've loved you and stayed faithful to you ever since that wonderful day in my flat. Our first time, and the day my life changed."
Molly didn't say anything. Peter looked at me again, and this time I felt I could see hate in his eyes, but then he turned back to Molly, "You think you love him. I know you cling to that silly notion. But, can't you see, he doesn't want you. You've had months now, and he still hasn't taken you back, has he? He hasn't and he won't. You'd only get in the way of his ambition, his need to go wherever ITI send him. He doesn't want you or the boys. I do."
Again he paused to glance at me, but then turned back to Molly, "I don't understand. I'm a better lover than he ever was. I have been there for you when he walked out on you. I've taken care of you and even his children for years. And now you want to desert me because of some silly idea that he'll take you back?"
At that point, the pencil I was holding in my fingers just snapped into two pieces. The noise distracted them for a moment.
Molly recovered first, "I love him." She looked straight into my eyes, as if Peter wasn't there, "And I hope that he will take me back." She refocused on Peter, "But that's irrelevant. It's not about me swapping one husband for another. I don't love you Peter."
"But you said you did, so many times. You said you were over him, and that you loved me now. You said we had a marriage that would last a lifetime. You said it on every anniversary. It was your toast to me, to our love. And I believed you, but more importantly, you believed it as well, I know."
"I wanted to believe it. I tried to love you, but I never did. I said it to convince myself as much as you. But I didn't, I'm sorry."
"You lied!" He said it almost in triumph, but with a very bitter undertone.
Molly didn't like that, "I wouldn't talk about lies in our marriage if I were you, Peter. You lied and lied and lied. You know you did. You lied to get into my pants. Isn't that the romantic phrase you use? Well you lied your way into them. And you went on lying and lying and lying. Our whole marriage was based on lies and cheating and collusion."
That outburst from Molly did stop him for a moment. He picked up a can of drink and stood up. He paced up and down in silence for a while, the silence only broken by the 'phhht' of him opening the can.
But then he turned back to Molly, and sat down again, this time with his back to me, "I know I did. I really am sorry about that. In some ways I'm ashamed of what I did. But it brought me you and the happiest years of my life. And I can't regret that. But don't you see? Now that all of it is out in the open, it's a chance to start again. For me to prove that I do truly love you. Give me a chance Moll, please, meet me and let's talk. Not like this, not with him breathing down our necks. You owe me that, at least. I gave you four happy years, I deserve a chance, please."
Molly lent forward and picked up a can and a glass, and poured herself a Coke. She looked up at Peter, "Well, while we're being open and honest, tell me something. How often did you meet with Susan or talk to her on the telephone as you plotted and schemed to push me into marriage?"
I could hear the regret and guilt and hesitancy in his voice as he answered, "Quite often. Three or four times a week, I suppose. She laid down her terms. She didn't make it that obvious, but I knew how I was meant to answer her questions to get her on my side. That I had to promise to marry you, not just have an affair. But I wanted that, so it was easy to agree. And I had to promise to stay in Bristol. But don't you see, Molly? It wasn't all my lies, your own Mother believed that we were a good match. She believed in me, you can't just blame me for everything that happened."
Molly looked shocked, but then a smile of acceptance crossed her face, "Peter, our whole marriage was based on lies. And they went on and on, through all the years." Again, she paused and sipped her drink, "When you came back to forgive me on the night of the Ball, you said we could go to the Ball, or we could go to Our Restaurant and have a meal and talk and finish with a glass of grappa, Our Drink. Because until that first lunchtime with me in Our Restaurant, you'd never ***** Grappa, had you? Even in trying to salvage the marriage, you went on lying. Five years after the first set of lies, you went on using them to try to recapture what they brought you first time around."
"But grappa is Our Drink. Don't you remember, I didn't like it when I first tried it, but because of you, because we drank it on our first time, I tried again. And I learnt to love it."
Molly looked at him with disgust, and in a very bitter voice, "And you go on lying even now."
For a moment he was silent, and then he looked round at me, "This is your doing. God, you did your research well. Who was it? Who told you? It must have been someone at the Abbey. You've used your position to sneak around and talk about me with my colleagues. You disgust me."
"Why? Did you have something to hide?" I innocently asked.
For a moment he looked nonplussed, but then he smiled, and still looking at me, "It was a good trick. It's normally quite high proof you know, and I don't know how many times I used it on girls and it always worked." He was proud of his deceit.
He turned back to Molly, "But, after you, grappa did become special. It helped bring me you."
"Don't you mean it helped you get into my pants?" She asked with heavy sarcasm, but then she paused, "In some ways I can understand a man fancying a girl, even if she is married. But I had children, but you couldn't even respect my duty and love for them."
"And I took them in. I did learn to love them. You didn't want more children, and they were the nearest I ever got to having sons of my own. I loved them, even when they did try to provoke me." He looked round at me, but then back to Molly. "Even when they started calling me Elsie. Do you know what that meant? It wasn't the girl's name. It was the letters L and C. They stood for Little Cock." He stood up and looked round at me, "I wonder where they got that idea?"
I smiled in my genuine innocence this time, "Is it true?"
He didn't answer me, but turned back to Molly who was obviously thinking. And then she asked, "And how do you know what it meant?"
"It was written on their blackboard in their den." He said with pride at providing conclusive proof..
Molly looked at him with disgust, "You went in there? You couldn't even keep a promise to young children! You disgust me. Our marriage was never anything but dead. Just accept it."
He sort of collapsed back onto the sofa, "No it was never dead. It was the most vibrant thing." He paused, "I'm sorry that I lied, that I pretended. I suppose I should have confessed at some time. If that really troubles you we could go to a counsellor. That girl Heather that you know. Or any other one. Or we could go away together, to talk, to rediscover each other." I heard his voice lighten and raise, "We could go back to the Maldives. You'd like that. Our special place."
He looked round to check on me. I sat, blatantly listening, there was no pretence any longer. But he seemed satisfied that I was not going to interfere, "You could take a few days out, next week say, and come away with me. If I can't convince you to try again, then I'll accept it, but surely you could come for a week in the Maldives? We could even go back to our honeymoon hotel if you like. Please Molly, please."
Molly leant forward and took one of his hands in hers, and spoke in a deliberate, reasoned voice, "You're not listening Peter. I don't love you. I never have. And a week in the Maldives isn't going to make me love you."
"But....but....you're my wife. I want to take my wife on holiday. Just for a week. Is that too much to ask?"
"Yes Peter, it is."
Suddenly I saw his shoulders shake before I heard the sound of his sobs. Molly looked at me, I wasn't sure what she wanted, but there was a question in her eyes. I shrugged, I wasn't quite sure what she or I should do. She got up from her seat, and went and crouched in front of him, and took hold of both his hands, forcing him to look at her.
"Peter, you were the one who always said that I still loved Chris. You knew it, it can't really have been a surprise that I eventually admitted it."
He sniffed, a wet ugly snort of a sniff, "But....but I only used to say that because I knew what your answer would be. You would always say that you didn't, and that I was your man now, that you loved me. I only ever said it because it would make you say that you loved me, and I needed that."
"I'm sorry. I lied. For once, you were telling the truth and I was the one lying. I'm sorry." But then her expression changed, she stood up, pulling her hands from his. "But you knew that, you aren't a fool, Peter. In your heart you knew it, like I did. That was your insecurity and guilt. You'd seduced me and trapped me into marriage, but you knew it wasn't real."
"No. It wasn't all lies. You did love me. I know you did. And you will do again. When you realise........" He took a tissue from the box on the table and blew his nose. "Come to the Maldives please, Molly. We can have separate rooms if you like. But if you could get away from him just for a few days, then you'd realise what a mistake you're making."
"Why would I want to rebuild a marriage with you? With a man who lied and cheated and colluded to get me to marry him in the first place." Her voice was rising. I looked into her face, it was obvious some demons had suddenly been released from their chains. I considered calming her down, to stop what I knew was coming, but it wouldn't be right to interfere between a man and his wife. And anyway, why should I interfere to save him?
Molly stepped backwards and in an icy but raised voice, continued, "I used to like you, Peter. I used to respect you. But now I know what sort of man you are. You lie and cheat to get what you want. I wanted to love you, I really did. I lost so much when you came into my life, I had to believe that it was all worthwhile. But it wasn't, I knew it and you knew it. And, No, you never pleased me in bed. I haven't the faintest idea whether you're a good lover or not, but I can tell you this: you never did it for me."
Peter stood up, hurt and shocked. His voice went up a decibel or two, "That's a lie. You accuse me of lying, but that's the biggest lie of all. I left you satisfied so many times, almost every time. You never refused me, you always wanted sex, and you know you did. And why? Because you knew it would be good, better than he ever gave you. You know it."
"Rubbish. I only orgasmed when I fantasised. I got good at that. I had to. And I promise you, you were never even in the room in my fantasies."
"I don't believe you. We were happy. You were happy until he came back into our lives. Then you started this wishful notion that he would take you back. What was it? His money? His power and prestige? We have money. I've just settled half my own mother's money on you. You have money now. You don't need your stupid fantasies about him. He isn't going to give you the love, the security, and no, not even the good sex that I can give you." He paused, both of them were standing facing each other, eyes blazing, "I may have cheated as you call it to get into your life, but I don't live with some stupid fantasy that Chris Bennett still loves you and will take you back. You cheated on him. OK I made you do it with my skill as a lover, but you cheated on him, and he isn't going to forgive you and take you back. Come home Molly, let's start rebuilding what we once had."
Molly's eyes were still blazing, "We never had it. All we ever had was lies and guilt and wishful thinking. You know it Peter, and so do I." She paused and took a big breath; her eyes softened and she visibly calmed down, "There's a lot of you that is good Peter. Just try to be decent and go and find a woman who will love you for the right reasons."
Suddenly the confrontation was over. Both their shoulders sagged, and a silence invaded the room.
Peter turned to me, as if he had suddenly remembered my presence, "How could you do this? You accuse me of interfering in your marriage, and now you do exactly the same to mine. You hypocrite. You selfish bastard. You told me yourself that Molly and I had a good marriage, yet you must have your revenge. You know you aren't going to marry her, yet you let her destroy our good marriage. You fucking bastard."
Behind him I saw Molly stiffen in anger, and I spoke to her rather than him, "No, Molly. Let him go. Let him believe whatever he wants. He used to believe that he could interfere in other people's lives with impunity. Does it really matter if he now believes that he's an innocent victim? Let him go."
Peter turned and looked at Molly, "You will realise. And I will wait for you until you do. I promise. I love you Molly Davies, I love you. And anytime you want to go to the Maldives, and recapture what we once had, I'll be there for you." And he brushed past her and just walked out.
Molly and myself just looked at each other for a moment, and then her eyes filled with tears, and I was round my desk and holding her in my arms.
"Thank you, Chris. I was scared you'd really tear into him, and you didn't." She gave a half sob half laugh, "I did, but you didn't. Why did you stop me at the end? I was about to launch into him again, he had no right to say those things about you. I thought you wanted him to leave here in tears and yet you saved him. Why?"
"Because I suddenly realised I didn't care about him. I didn't care what state you left him in. You gave me so much this evening. By saying what you did, somehow I felt I'd won, I didn't need to prove it, and I didn't care if he knew it or not."
After a pause, we broke apart, and I cleared my desk to go home. "How about I buy you dinner? You deserve it." I asked, in as normal a voice as I could manage.
She ignored me, and asked, quite hesitantly, "He did raise an interesting question."
I looked up at her, "Surely it isn't a matter of would I accept you back? I love you, and I've said so, and I have no problem saying so. It's a matter of whether we both want the same future, together or apart. And we've still got some weeks to go before your divorce is finalised, let alone doing anything about us. Is that OK?"
She looked disappointed as she always did when she pushed me, and I gave her the same answer, but she said, "I said I'd wait for as long as it takes."
I smiled, "Well it's going to take longer than today. But we are moving in the right direction."
Over dinner Molly didn't seem to want to talk about the meeting with Peter. It was all too painful. I know she had wanted him to go away without her having to say things which would only hurt him, but it had come to that, and she wasn't proud of what she'd said or done. So, I tried to stay off the subject.
But I did have to ask once more about her sex life with him, "Tell me again because I still don't understand. How could you bring yourself to have frequent sex with him if you knew you didn't love him and knew that it wasn't going to do anything for you?"
She smiled forlornly, "It was just something that a wife does for her husband. Like ironing his shirts. I didn't want him to be unhappy, and he loved me and he needed sex, it was the least I could do. It had nothing to do with my sex life, that was erotica and dreams of you." She looked up and into my eyes, "I'm sorry. Knowing that I gave myself to him must hurt you so much."
"Actually, less than you would think or certainly less than I thought it would. The first time, the time in his flat, that hurts, it hurts like Hell, but not after that. It was what was to be expected."
The next day, I had a call from Piers at the end of the afternoon, "Fancy a drink?"
"No, I can't. I've got a business dinner to go to. But I take it you want to know how it went last night?"
"I know how it went. My Deputy is one of the living dead. And more dead than living."
"That bad?"
"When I saw him this morning, I took one look at him and said he should go home. But he said he couldn't. That bastard Bennett would delight in giving him another warning letter or the sack if he did. Apparently you are fucking enjoying this, destroying his life for no good reason. He's a good mind to report him to Head Office for it."
"What did you say?"
"That he hadn't got a leg to stand on. I told him to just get on with his work and to keep his head down."
"Good. If you want some of the gory details, and I don't think Molly would want you to have them all, why not come over to dinner tomorrow night with Jeanette? I reckon it's time that Molly and myself started going public."
And that's what they did. Molly wasn't very happy about it when I phoned and told her. I think she only went along with it out of a sense of duty rather than any feeling of making a progressive step, or even of the pleasure of entertaining friends.
It was Jeanette that came straight to the point, whilst we were having pre-dinner drinks. She looked at Molly and just asked, "Other than whisking you off to the Maldives, did he have anything worthwhile to say? Anything to redeem himself."
Molly looked at me with a very accusing look. I looked at Piers with a very questioning look.
Piers smiled, "Sorry. When I went into Peter's office just before lunch on Thursday, he was reading a travel brochure. He had it open at all-inclusive trips to the Maldives. I asked him if he was thinking of going on holiday, and he said he hoped to be going on one very soon. Remember, I had no official idea about the evening's meeting. He certainly wasn't consulting me."
Molly looked hurt, "He had it all planned out. He thought he could buy me back with a trip to the Maldives. But if he thinks so little of me that he can lie and manoeuvre, then why shouldn't he think that I can be bought?"
I found it rather satisfying that since Molly's initial confession to me, Peter was now going down and down in her eyes.
The evening wasn't a great success. Molly was tense. Myself and Jeanette were OK, in fact we worked hard to keep the whole evening afloat. But Piers slowly went quieter and more sullen as the meal progressed. He brightened up a bit when I gave him a glass of my Balvenie, but even that didn't cheer him a lot. Eventually, just before eleven o'clock, Jeanette took him home.
It took him nearly took weeks to explain himself and apologise. One evening, at about six o'clock he turned up in my office with bottle of Glenkinchie.
"This time I've been the fucking bastard, so I thought I owed you this."
I smiled, "I'm rather glad you were, if this is what it does." And I got up and poured us a couple of whiskies.
As we sat down, I just waited. Piers smiled, "I'm sorry. And I owe Molly a big apology." He sighed, "I guess my distain at how Peter acted, what he did years ago, was beginning to wane. What I saw, more and more, was just a hurt broken man. A man that I used to think of as a friend was just a shell of his former self, and I'd lost a friend and a great working partnership. And then, when we came to dinner, I couldn't help but think about the dinners we'd had with her and Peter. And I felt that she'd been personally lying to me for all those years. She was the smiling, loving wife of a friend and colleague, that's how I knew her. And all of it was pretence. Sorry, but I took it personally."
"And now?"
"And now I've put it into proper perspective, or Jeanette has done so for me. I was a bit part player in the scene. How I was treated was inevitable and immaterial. And, what else could she do, until she plucked up the strength to do what she did. I'm sorry."
After that we went on chatting, but as I hadn't made much more progress in my thinking, there wasn't much of a personal nature to talk about. Instead, we talked about Franks, and ITI, mainly considering the possibility of letting Franks Engineering down in Exeter float free.
Myself and Molly cruised along fairly happy, but there was always a shadow of what Peter might try doing before the decree absolute could be gained at the end of October.
There was Molly's birthday before that, on the 14th October, which was a Sunday. I had to be in London on the Friday before hand, so she came up by train and joined me. We had a nice dinner on that Friday night, and great sex at our hotel afterwards. It was the Saturday that was special, for once I went clothes shopping for a woman and with her at my side. We were on the lingerie trail. I was determined that all the sexy stuff that Peter had bought her, and that I'd enjoyed, should be thrown away. Instead, we spent time buying her complete outfits of both super-sexy playtime lingerie, but also several sets of genuinely nice lingerie for her to wear in the daytime. I wanted her to honour her holiday promise that she would be in sexier clothes underneath whatever she was wearing. Stockings were a must for most of the time as far as I was concerned, and she seemed happy with that. Her only argument was that she would only wear hold-ups in the evening, for all day wear she complained that they either slipped down or were like tourniquets on the thighs to stay up. We bought all sorts of sexy tights, sheer throughout ones, ones with sexy little pantie shapes built in, suspender ones, different colours, with patterns, with seams, without seams, you name it; but they were only for fun or for days when it was cold. The sexier side of things was mainly g-strings and thongs, and many of them were to match the bra and pantie sets bought for day wear. There were a couple of bras that didn't hide a lot, and one waspie that I liked and a couple of basques. There was one fantasy item that I saw and insisted on. It was a sort of waspie basque thing, it had shoulder straps, but a totally open bra, that would leave her breasts totally free, and suspenders and a matching g-string. I wasn't sure when I'd get her to wear it other than in the bedroom, but whenever that was, I was looking forward to it.
On the Saturday evening we went to see the musical Chicago, so we were singing all the songs as we drove back to Bristol late at night. As we drove along, I couldn't help but think just how my life had changed since I first drove this car to Bristol in February. At that time I knew I was driving into the unknown, but never in a month of Sundays would I have ever considered what has happened as even a remote possibility. Those thoughts made me determined not to try and predict the future ever again.
On the Sunday, her actual birthday, I gave her my official present, a new bicycle. Molly instantly saw the significance, that I was inviting her on my days out with the boys. And we celebrated her birthday with a ****** bike ride, a pub lunch and a lot of loving laughter.
When we got back to Ralph's house, I noticed his expectant look. He obviously had hopes that I would have proposed to Molly on her birthday. I hadn't and he was disappointed.
Peter didn't seem to do anything to stop the finalisation of the divorce. It went through like clockwork. His solicitor dealt with the financial settlement, and Molly got her money. At work, as far as I could understand, Peter was working well. People said he was quiet, and slightly withdrawn, but he was there every day, and did his work. I hardly saw him, we only met once in a while on the design committee for the new laboratories, but he was straightforward and business like then. If we met in a corridor, we would pass with barely a nod.
On the night of the decree absolute I took Molly out to dinner. I knew that this was the end of one chapter for her, but it opened the chapter for me when people, especially Molly, would expect me to take the next step. I took that theme as a pre-emptive strike.
I raised my glass, "Congratulations on putting Peter behind you. Now we are free to really talk about the future, to what we each want, and to find out if we really can make it together."
I thought that sounded quite positive, and Molly joined me in the toast. But then she said, "I know what I want, even more than when I made my confession. I love you and I want to be Mrs Molly Bennett again." And she looked me in the eye, and just waited. When I looked back and didn't flinch, she added, "And I can wait."
I was thoughtful for a moment, before I said, "It's funny. When we were young I simply fell in love with you and just knew that I wanted to marry you. I didn't really think about the future or what we faced and whether we could make it. I just proposed because I loved you. Now I want to be so sure, doubly certain, that we can make it through. I love you, I know that. But whether we can have a successful second marriage I simply don't know."
Molly's eyes filled with tears, "It's because I hurt you so much. I can understand that you don't want to risk that ever happening again. I just don't know what I can do, I'm just so sorry."
"You're right, I am scared. But it is more than that. I want to be sure that I can make you happy. That I can give you the life you want and deserve. You've had a pretty rough few years, you deserve to be happy and to have the life that you want. And I need to know that I can give you that, and that it's a life which would make me happy."
There was a silence between us for some minutes. Molly dried her eyes on her handkerchief, and the waiter came along and cleared the plates. When he'd done that, I decided to change the subject.
"Well I know something, a very minor something, that I do want. I want you to meet Myra Hepsted and preferably become friends. And I want to meet Myra's other half, Dr Will, the archaeologist from Exeter. How about that I set up that we have dinner with them one night, nothing special, just a friendly dinner somewhere?"
I've never heard a more reluctant "OK" than the one I got that night.
So, a week later, on the following Friday, four of us went out to a rather nice little bistro pub in Bath. Gosh, it was fun! I could talk to Molly, and I could talk to Myra if I didn't mind either Molly's or Will's eyes boring into the back of my head. And I could talk to Will, that wasn't too bad, he was at least capable of making polite conversation, but there was no warmth there. The sad thing was, he was a nice guy. The only good bit of the evening was that Molly and Will seemed to get on OK, in fact they seemed to quite like each other.
First thing on the Monday morning, Myra was sitting opposite me at my desk, "Don't blame me, Chris, it was your fault. You suggested it."
"There must be someone I can delegate the blame to. That's what being MD is all about. I didn't get to this job by accepting my share of the blame." I smiled.
Just then Carole came in carrying two coffees. "Ah, here's a likely candidate." I said, cheerfully. "Just admit it was all your fault, Carole, and I'll see what I can do to save your job."
"Am I allowed to know what was all my fault?"
So we told her, and Carole burst out laughing. "Just tell them that they're stupid idiots."
Almost in union, Myra and myself echoed, "We've done that. It didn't work."
"Oh." Was all Carole said, and as she left, "Shit happens."
And then I had an idea, "Carole come back." I shouted.
When she had returned, "See if you can find out what is going on at the rugby and football on Saturday. I want to take Will for a good afternoon out, and preferably drink too much and do a little male bonding. Find out what's my best bet, rugby or football."
Myra smiled, "You won't have to drink too much. Will doesn't have a strong head on him. Am I meant to take Molly on a girl's shopping trip when that's going on?"
"How could she refuse you?" I said and smiled. "Let's hit the problem head on."
Carole came back not much later to say that rugby was my best bet. Apparently a regular younger group of staff and young doctors were going, and their tradition was to have a good time, as she described it.
I phoned Will with the invite, and he couldn't very well refuse. Then I told Molly that I had to go to the rugby on Saturday, and that I'd invited Will. She could refuse the idea of shopping with Myra, and almost did. It was only when I said I would need her to drive me home from Bath that she eventually relented, and agreed.
Getting the alcohol into Will was quite easy. He is a nice guy, and was happy to have a beer or two at rugby. But it loosened his inhibitions just enough for him to really have a go at me about using my position to seduce an innocent girl like Myra. When I protested and told him how it was, he mumbled that 'that was what she told me.' But, having got it out of his system, and with another beer, we suddenly became good friends.
When Will and myself got back to Myra's flat we found the two girls happily chatting. They looked at a fairly ***** Will, and I knew I was not at my most sober. Molly just looked at me and said, "Your plan worked then."
I looked at Myra, accusingly.
Myra glanced at Molly, smiled and said, "It worked completely. Which is why we could talk about it."
As Molly drove us home, she glanced at me, "Sorry. She is really a very nice person. And she is very fond of you in a good friend sort of way."
"I'm very fond of her in a good friend sort of way." I answered and smiled.
On the Monday morning, I got Carole to hunt Myra down, and she turned up in my office just before lunch.
"OK. I used spectator sport and alcohol, what was your secret?"
"She obviously hasn't shown you. We found a gorgeous dress, I think we both wanted it, but it was a bit low cut. So I told her she has better boobs than me, which is true, and that it would look far better on her. The younger woman gave way to and flattered the older woman. Hey presto! Problem solved. And don't tell her I said that. Ever."
"Said what?" I asked.
It was on the Tuesday evening that Molly turned up at my flat in a low cut and rather too dressy a dress for just dinner in the flat.
"You look nice. We're obviously going out to dinner."
Molly just stepped back slightly from me, lifted the skirt up to her waist. She had stockings and no panties, and her pussy was completely shaved, "I thought you might like to eat in."
And I did, and she seemed to quite enjoy it - twice. When we were lying quietly, she asked, "Have I got to keep it like this always?"
"Oh, No. It's nice and different, but just once in a while. Not all of the time. But it was good. Am I allowed to say that it was a lot better than the last time I tried it? I think that's because I love the girl this time."
"Then you're allowed to say it, this once. I want to leave the past behind, all of the past."
And that led to a long discussion about the future. At first, Molly's only view of the future was to be at my side. But, after a lot of cajoling, she painted a picture of her dream future. And it was certainly with me at her side, but in all other respects it was very different to the view of the future that I had. Suddenly, a very large spanner had been dropped into the works.
I was in two minds as to whether I should talk it through with Molly. It seemed so inevitable that it could be the end of whatever it was we had going. She wanted domesticity and ****** life in England. I was ambitious and would go anywhere ITI chose to send me, and my dreams were nothing to do with where I lived; to me the world was just one big village. Of course I wanted the woman I loved at my side, and I wanted to be a good ****** man, but my ambitions were for the business, for the money, for the prestige. Until I had a clearer view, I decided not to say anything.
I fancied chatting it through with someone. But Myra was doing a week's work in London, as her work at Franks started to run down. Piers and Jeanette were on holiday. And Carole had only one thing on her mind that week, this 70th wedding anniversary up in Stroud which was happening next weekend. So I kept my own counsel.
But over the weekend, I began to get troubled by something else. Was I just finding problems, excuses not to commit myself? Of course our future was a big question, but if I could solve it, then what? If a fairy god-mother came down and gave both myself and Molly the same dreams for the future, would I dash off and propose? I wasn't sure.
On the Monday morning, Carole seemed a lot happier, and I felt safe asking, "I assume the anniversary party went well?"
"It went marvellously. And so many came. I met cousins I don't think I've ever met before, from all over the country. I had a lovely long chat to a cousin, she must be a bit older than me and she's done ever so well for herself, she married well, she didn't marry a plumber. And I'm sure I've never met her before, it was a lovely surprise."
"Good. I'm glad, after all the hard work you put in." I smiled, "Can you see if Myra's in, and ask Neil Davidson if he's got any good candidates for the Client Services Director. If he hasn't, then tell him to put it on hold, a bit of a reorganisation is running through my mind."
Neil came to see me as soon as Carole saw him, and we scheduled a time to sit and talk about some reorganisation ideas. And Myra was still in London, so no heart to heart there then.
It was just before lunch that Carole buzzed me, "I've got Mrs Frances Parkinson on the line for you."
"Frances, how nice to hear from you."
"Chris. I'm in Bath for a few days, while Parky's out of the country. I was wondering if you could keep me company tonight with a spot of dinner?"
"I'd love to Frances." What else could I say to the wife of my boss? But to be honest, dinner with Frances was always a pleasure. "Where are you staying? I'll book something nice."
"No, I'll book it and it'll be a light dinner in my suite at the Royal Crescent Hotel. I see enough restaurants, eating in suits me when I get a chance. Seven o'clock say?"
"I'd be delighted. Thank you, I shall look forward to it."
I was honoured. On a spare evening The Old Man's wife thinks of me as a dinner companion.
I got to Bath in good time, and even managed to park my car. As I walked along the Royal Crescent I felt quite overwhelmed by the sheer majesty of the perfection of this arc of Georgian splendour. It seemed a combination of science and nature that was somehow bigger than mere man.
When I got to the hotel I was shown to her suite. Frances was waiting to greet me, a picture of elegance and matronly determination, but with kind twinkling eyes behind her glasses.
After our greetings, she asked me to pour us some drinks from the considerable range of drinks laid out on the side. She asked for a vodka and tonic whereas mine was gin.
"So, Frances, what brings you to Bath. It's a beautiful city, and wonderful shopping, but was there a reason?"
"I come from this way. Cirencester actually, and I still have a lot of ****** down here. There was a big ****** celebration this weekend, and Parky was away, so I thought I might as well come anyway. It was a 70th wedding anniversary."
I turned and smiled, "And you were the distant cousin that's done ever so well for herself. What a fantastic coincidence."
"I'm sure I've never met Carole before. Neither of us had any idea. And now you know, don't tell anyone. I don't think Carole wants it known at work that she's related to the wife of the CEO."
"She always said she had a big ******." I observed.
"Well we had a good talk." She looked straight at me, "We had so much to talk about."
"Me, for instance. Did I pass?"
"I think we very quickly established that we had the same view of you. And Yes, I guess you could say you passed."
It wasn't long before we'd finished our drinks and anyway a waiter was delivering our dinner.
"We're having vichyssoise followed by sea bass, and just some cheese afterwards. I hope that's OK for you?" She said as we sat down. And who was I to argue?
Once we were seated and had started our soup, Frances asked, "Carole tells me that you've been trying to build a new relationship with your ex-wife. How's it going?"
I wasn't surprised, and I did wonder how much Carole had told her. After all, Carole knew almost everything.
"Surprisingly well. I thought the best I could hope for was to build some sort of friendship that would allow us to give our two sons as good a chance as they can have. They've been the victims for too long."
"Jamie and Ben, isn't it? It must have all been very hard on them, but made easier if they know that they are loved by both of you."
I noticed she knew their names. Was that from years ago, when I've talked about them, or was it that Carole had named them? Either way, I had to admire her caring memory.
"Yes. They seem to have survived, but who knows what deep damage it has done? That worries me. I really got to the point where I thought myself and Molly could put it all back together, and for their sake I was certainly willing to try. I know I love her, but just recently, I'm beginning to believe that it would never work out."
"Carole said you'd been really thoughtful and worried for the last few days. She didn't like to ask what the problem is."
I smiled, "I must really have been bad for Carole to be too scared to ask. I thought she was just wrapped up in her anniversary plans."
"Would you like to tell me about it? I haven't been married to Parky for thirty years without knowing how to listen."
And Yes, I did. I knew I'd wanted to talk it through, and Frances was an excellent listener. It took me the rest of our soup to tell her some of Molly's and my story.
"So what's the problem? Why the doubts?" Frances asked, as a waiter appeared, apparently unbidden, to serve our sea bass.
"Last week we started talking about the future. Of course, Molly started with saying that her only future was beside me, wherever I go, which is loving and nice, and exactly what I would expect her to say. But I pushed her to try and talk about what she really wanted, and beyond the fact that she was fed up with her current job, and wanted to go into private practice, which was a surprise, I learnt nothing."
I sipped my wine, but Frances just went on eating her fish and waiting.
"So I asked her just to paint me a word picture of our future life, just a snapshot that seems to sum it up."
"And what did she paint?" Frances asked.
"A classic domestic happy ****** picture. A farmhouse kitchen, the baby happily sitting in a high chair. And that was news, I hadn't any idea that she still wanted another child. I know that she's sensible enough to know that we both have to want that, but it was unexpected, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. But the whole domestic scene, I come in from work, our sons are happily sitting at the table doing their homework, she's cooking the ****** dinner. You can paint the perfect English middle class domestic scene."
"I can't say I'm surprised. I wouldn't have minded some of that in my life. So, what's your picture?"
I paused, gathering my thoughts, "I guess it's me coming home to a Manhattan penthouse apartment. A chauffeur driven limo, of course. My wife waiting for me on the terrace, with dry martinis at the ready, and she's dressed in a beautiful designer ball gown. I just have time to shower and change into my tux, before we are whisked off in that same chauffeur driven limo to some opening somewhere. As we drive, we put in our daily call to our boys, who are in boarding school back in England, and we tell them how we're looking forward to our ****** holiday on our yacht down in the Bahamas, say. How's that? It's a long way from a farmhouse kitchen in England."
Frances didn't answer, she just went on eating her fish, and I waited. Eventually, she looked up and sipped her wine. Then she seemed to change subject completely.
"It was interesting at the anniversary party. Some people were jealous of my life, others were horrified." She paused and looked at her watch. "I think Parky is just about to get on a plane in the Philippines, heading for Sydney, Australia, but I'm not quite sure, I get in a muddle with time zones once the international date line gets involved. Some had sympathy that my home is a London apartment, and I am not quite sure where my husband is or even what time it is with him. Some were really sorry that I had to bring up three children with a husband that works twelve hour days seven days a week and is out of the country for half of his time. Others were jealous that I'm rich and on Christian name terms with prime ministers and presidents, and that Buckingham Palace is almost a second home these days. That I've travelled the world, first class; that I have opportunities to sit on the boards of major institutions and charities, and maybe just help a bit in doing some good in the world."
"And how do you judge it? I hope you've been happy."
She smiled, "Oh, I've been happy, and I don't know if I'd have been any happier if life had turned out differently."
I waited.
"But, I've always had an escape clause. Personally, that made it possible, it's the only way that I've been able to face the compromises of life. I know that I'm doing whatever it is because, however much I hate that moment, I'm there voluntarily. I do have an alternative. One day I'll want to give it all up, I'll want to buy a nice manor house in the Cotswold, near Cirencester say, and go back to my roots. There I'll have my retired husband, and I'll play golf with him for a couple of afternoons a week. And I can have my children and grandchildren down for big ****** Christmas's and catch up on some of the things I've been missing. And that will all start happening when over dinner one evening I say to Parky that it's time. My pact with Parky is that we live his life until I want something different. I know that if I say to Parky now is the time, then by nine o'clock the next morning Parky will have resigned as CEO. There is no question. It's how we make it work."
"Dare I ask how long he's got?" I asked, knowing she had every right to say she couldn't and shouldn't tell me.
"It's getting less, but he's got some things he still wants to achieve, and he's got some time yet."
I smiled, "OK. What does he want to achieve? There's nothing in the company mission that's a particular milestone for him."
Frances looked at me, considering what to say, "Now I am talking out of turn. I can tell you some things, although I probably shouldn't." She paused again, making up her mind, "He wants to make me Lady Parkinson, which I have to admit I'd like. He wants to see you and Patrick Redmond on the main board. He wants to be sure that Gerry Amersham doesn't inherit his crown when he goes. He wants to see all divisions operate on all five continents, so that he can truly say that ITI has a worldwide span. And a few other things that I can't tell you, and probably a few more that I don't even know."
Again apparently without being summonsed, the waiter appeared and cleared the table, and laid out a cheese board.
When he'd withdrawn, Frances looked at me, "That Manhattan apartment and chauffeured limo can be yours, Chris. But you have to want them, and be prepared to sacrifice an awful lot to achieve them. I've allowed, yes allowed, Parky to do it. But that was because I wanted them to. And we've been very lucky because he has achieved so much for both of us."
"And where does that leave me with Molly?"
"She will have to be happy being like me. In the early years it was a new home, frequently in a new country, every four or five years. Then there was critical, heartbreaking years, of putting my children in the care of the cabin staff as they flew back to Britain to their boarding schools where I wouldn't see them for weeks on end, leaving me on the concourse in tears, and going back to an empty apartment because Parky was off somewhere or other. Yes, I put up with it, and we have the benefits of the material winnings and the prestige now. But I paid for them in my tears and lonely nights and maybe in some regrets. But we do have a good life now, as empty nesters. I don't know whether it was a good bargain, but we got through it and have our winnings to show for it. But both of you have to want those winnings awfully badly."
I nibbled a piece of Brie and said, "You make it sound as if you had years of unhappiness. I couldn't ask her to do that. Did you know what you were letting yourselves in for when you started?"
"No. I knew I loved a burningly ambitious man, and as I loved him I was willing to follow him wherever he went. At first it was the Navy and for him to travel the world. Then it was ITI and to build a business. Achieving his ambitions has made him happy, Parky loves his job and I want to see the man I love happy. But, because of our pact, I know he loves me more than his job. I need that, otherwise I would have given up on him long ago." She popped a grape into her mouth and smiled.
She rose, the meal was over. "Lets sit down more comfortably, they'll bring us some coffee in a minute."
As we waited for the coffee, I was quiet and for a moment I was deep in thought. I heard Frances's voice, "Have I helped or hindered?"
I smiled, "Both. You've helped in that you've crystallized the problem. I know that Molly isn't like you, she doesn't have that need for great achievements or super wealth. She would follow me anywhere, I know that, but I don't think she'd be truly happy. And I couldn't do that to a woman I love. It seems to me that there is no avoiding it, I've got to choose between the woman I love or the job and company that I love. But it's a two edged sword. If I did give up the job I love and go off and become a bean counter somewhere, well that wouldn't work because then I wouldn't be happy. That isn't a formula for a happy marriage either."
