Beth was sitting at the kitchen table as I came through the garden door. I had laid the table for her favourite breakfast, pain-au-chocolat with hot chocolate to drink, a feast of chocolate. I had been out in the garden looking for some flowers to put on the table, and had struck lucky. The rose bush that her parents had given us for our wedding anniversary in the first year we lived in this house was covered in blooms. I had picked a single rose on a long stem.
She had her back to me as I came in, but she looked round as she heard the door. "I wondered where you were."
"Look what I found. That rose is covered in blooms at the moment." I offered her the single bloom as a loving gift. "Don't you think that's significant.?"
"What is?" she asked as she held the rose to her face and sniffed its scent.
"Don't you remember? That's the rose that your parents gave us on the first wedding anniversary that we were here. The next year it had a couple of flowers on it, then every year it has grown and bloomed more. This year it's covered. Don't you think that's significant? It must mean something."
"It means that you're a silly romantic and that roses like the soil here."
"Maybe I am, but I've every right to be so." I knelt on the floor in front of her. "I have the most wonderful wife. I wanted to say sorry for my foolishness last night and tell you that I love you very much. You are the very centre of my being. I hope you know that. I do love you Beth, and I don't really doubt you, I don't know what got into me yesterday. I guess it was several pints of beer, but I shouldn't have said what I did. I'm sorry."
She leant forward and kissed me on the cheek. "You're forgiven."
"No, I want to say sorry more than that. I do trust you, you know. Do you remember that Adam incident when we lived in London. I trusted you then. You were the one that told me that you had a bloke at work who was getting a bit silly about you. I know you'd talk to me if, heaven forbid, you did find that you were unhappy or vulnerable to some man. I know you wouldn't go off and have an affair."
She looked up with a distant look in her eye, "Yes. I'd forgotten Adam. He took a lot of talking to at that company barbeque. Do you remember?"
"When he tried to talk to you alone, offering to get you drinks or food from the barbie? And he did it all right in front of me. His intent was pretty obvious. Didn't he know that I was your husband?"
"I don't think he cared. But it was because you were there that I put him down so firmly."
"You were pretty cruel. Why do you think I sent you to go and talk to him? To at least rebuild his ego at little bit. I have a confession to make about that."
"What?" she asked, looking interested.
"Well, I said you should go and let him down a bit better than you did. Leave the poor guy some ego. Do you remember? And you went off to find him. After about quarter of an hour I began to get a bit worried, and I went looking for you. I found you just talking to him on a seat right at the end of the garden, hidden from everyone else. I crept away leaving you to it."
"I knew you were there. Your reflection was in the window of that garden shed."
"And neither of us said anything. I guess there was no need. What I wanted to say is that I do trust you. Even with the Adam's of this world. You talked to me about him and I know you would talk to me about anything. I love you Beth Williams."
"And I love you, Tim Williams."
We kissed and then just held each other.
"You would tell me if anything worried you, wouldn't you Beth?" I don't know why I returned to the subject, I guess I just wanted to make sure that she did know that she could talk about anything.
"Yes. Of course."
"I remember when Paul was killed. You put up with me going on and on about Paul, day after day for weeks, until I had got all my feelings straight in my head. I was so grateful to you for that. You were wonderful. I think that's part of the reason I love and respect you more now than when we got married."
"Well he was far too young to die, and I knew it was a terrible time for you. I remember feeling so useless. You were so upset, and there was nothing I could do except let you talk."
I gave her another hug and squeeze. Then I had other ideas. "You haven't got anything on under that robe. You don't fancy a quickie on the kitchen table do you.?"
"Down boy. You'd be late for work." She smiled at me.
"Yes, your right. Anyway, I want to save you until after a dinner at The Lobster Pot tonight."
"For a dinner at The Lobster Pot you can have me before and after, and possibly during." She sat back and looked at me. "Anyway, The Lobster Pot is a bit much. I've already accepted your apology."
"Well I've got something else to say. To show how much I love you and trust you."
"Ooh! What?"
"You'll have to wait." I leant in again to give her one last kiss and hug.
From inside my hug I heard her hesitantly and quietly "You know I do get some things a bit muddled sometimes. But I do know that I love you so much, Tim...."
Then the doorbell went.
I stood up. "Who the hell is that? At this time of the morning!"
I went to the hall, and approaching the front door I could see Jean's auburn hair through the hazy glass of the door. Oh my God. Jean! I had forgotten my phone call. What chaos and damage had I caused in their house. How do you say sorry to a neighbour for causing a real argument between a husband and wife? I opened the door.
"I'm sorry Jean..."
"Yes I guess it isn't a good time in here any more than in my house." She said as she walked in, straight passed me. She could see Beth in the kitchen, through the open door.
Beth looked at her, down the hall, and said "Hi!"
So Jean went forward into the kitchen, and that's where she continued "I don't know what you two are going to do, but I thought you ought to know that Ken has admitted to it going on for three months. I don't know what she's told you, Tim. Anyway, we will be selling the house. For me it's the end."
The world went into slow motion. Three months!? Three months!? THREE MONTHS!?
Somewhere I heard Jean continuing, but I didn't really hear what she was saying. It was something to do with her having all the money, and that she was sending Ken to Spain for two months. I didn't really understand. I was watching Beth. She was getting smaller and more curled up on her chair as I watched her. She was white.
Jean was walking out again. I followed her. I was on autopilot, and I was seeing her to the door. That's what you did with visitors when they were leaving. I began to hear her again. "... they were both adults, they both knew what they were doing. But I'd like to bet that Ken was the one that started it. He can't resist trying it on as soon as he sees a pretty face."
By then she was standing in our porch and she turned to talk to me, "I'm so sorry Tim. I thought you and Beth were the perfect couple, I thought you'd be immune from Ken even if he did try something. I'm going to drive up to London. I'm taking Ken to Heathrow to make sure he gets a plane to Spain. He would have had to go there very soon anyway, we've got builders in on the villa, so he might as well be useful and oversee that before I get rid of him. You needn't worry, he won't come back. He'll be desperate trying to either placate me, or at least get himself a good settlement. I won't be back for a couple of weeks. Then I'll come down to start clearing up and put the house on the market. I'll give you a call then. Don't worry Tim. I promise you it will get better, whatever you do."
She just left, walking down our drive. The bearer of bad news. Shouldn't I kill her or something? I turned back to the kitchen. I felt totally icy. I knew that I used to have a heart. Now I had just a block of ice in that body cavity.
And I was angry. Coldly. Deliberately. Angry.
Beth watched me as I came into the kitchen. She looked frightened, but maybe she had every right to, I couldn't see me, but I bet I looked exactly as I felt. "I'm sorry..... I can explain....I was going to tell you.... I'm so sorry..."
"You can explain! There is no possible explanation. Three months? Three bloody months of lying and cheating?"
She started to cry and she curled up onto her lap. All I could hear were sobs. Sobs and the occasional "I'm sorry"
"Three months?" my voice was raising
"I'm sorry... you've got to forgive me..." she sobbed.
"THREE MONTHS?" I shouted, slamming my hand onto the table and jangling the crockery. I leant right across so that my face was almost her side of the table. "Answer me. Have you been having an affair with Ken for three months?"
"I'm sorry. I should have stopped it. I should have talked to you before it started. You've got to believe me. I'm sorry..."
"I'll ask once more. If you don't answer then I'm walking out. And I won't be back ....ever! HAVE YOU BEEN HAVING AN AFFAIR WITH KEN FOR THREE MONTHS?"
She looked up at me and whispered "Yes."
"Pardon? I didn't hear that." I sat down, heavily in my chair. I don't think my legs would let me stand any longer. It was my turn to crumple into a heap.
Beth slid out of her chair and came to kneel at my feet, "Yes ... I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I do love you Tim. Please don't leave me. Last night I decided to finish it. I was about to start telling you when Jean arrived. I'm sorry. You've got to believe me..."
I looked up at her. The ice had taken control again. "I'm going to work now. I don't want you here when I get home. Let me know where you've gone, or I'll contact you through your parents. There is nothing else to say. Goodbye Beth."
"No! No! You can't. I love you. We can work it out. Please ... Tim ... Please ...I'm your wife ..."
"No you're not. Not any more. You are just a - cheating - lying - slut that used to be my wife, in the days when you were decent and worth loving." I got up and just walked out, slamming the kitchen door behind me.
As I walked the short length of the hall I heard a bestial scream from the kitchen. It was a howl of a wounded, once proud animal. I slammed the front door behind me.
I got to the drive and only then realised that I hadn't got my suit jacket. There was no way that I was going back, so I'll live without it. I'm pretty sure there are no formal meetings. Then there was no car where it should have been. Oh bugger, it's at work. Well, maybe that's for the best. I'll have to walk, and that way I can calm down. I've got to learn to work whilst I'm a bachelor again.
I don't remember much of that long walk into town. I just felt things, I didn't think. I know I wanted myself to cry, I tried to blubber up some tears but they didn't come. I wanted them so badly, I thought they would give me the release from the pressure. Tears would stop my head exploding. But they wouldn't come. And my head didn't explode.
As I came through the office reception I noticed that there was no receptionist on duty, just the security guard. I had lost all track of time. I looked at the wall clock, it was twenty to nine, and the receptionist didn't start until nine o'clock. After all that had happened, I was officially early, but late for me. I liked to be there by half past eight normally.
I sat at my desk and booted up my computer. I picked up my phone and hit the button for my voice mail. "You have ... 3... messages" said Mrs Metallica. I hit the button again. It was a client wanting me to call back. It didn't sound urgent. I hit the button. It was a Greg Dickens (or Dickers?) of ITP wanting lunch with me. What was that about? Don't tell me that after months of keeping Perry off my best guys, he was going to draft me onto that bloody ITP project. Maybe that's what yesterday's lunch was meant to be about. Odd! But not a lot I can do about it until Perry comes in. I hit the button. It was sobbing and gasping. Beth, almost indecipherable in her words. I switched off. I didn't want to listen.
My email was just as mundane. Someone was trying to get a company cricket team together. I knew I should fancy that, but I didn't. Anyway how can I commit myself for a season when I don't know how I'm going to live until lunch time?
I sat back. Colleagues were drifting into to their work stations. Some said 'Hi' without even looking up from the desk or papers. I noticed that those I looked at and who looked at me didn't say a word. Obviously there was something written across my forehead that warned them off. Did it say Cuckold in bright red capital letters?
I tried to work, I wanted to bury myself in work problems. I was OK, or so I thought, in talking to people. I thought I was holding sensible business conversations. But I couldn't read a thing. Words were read, they just didn't make sense. Nothing stuck in my mind for the length of time between reading the beginning of a sentence and the end of that same sentence. I tried again and again and again in between visits to the coffee machine, to the loo (even when I didn't need to go), to the stationery cupboard although I had plenty of pens and paper. Anything to avoid real work.
It was no good. I had to tell someone. Friend or manager? That was the question. I couldn't face telling a friend, they would ask questions, they might show patronising sympathy, and I couldn't stand that. I know I would have to face it all sometime. But not yet. Not now. So that left Manager. That seemed fair. I obviously wasn't going to work well today, and maybe never again. I owed it to them to put them in the picture.
Perry's office was empty. Stella saw me looking and simply said "He isn't in yet."
No Perry, so who? Charlie Bullard, the Personnel Director? Actually that could be a good choice. Charlie was a founder of the company with Neil Timmons, the CEO. Apparently there had been a third guy, but he dropped out (or was pushed out) early on. The early success was always attributed to Neil's great sales ability. I always thought that Charlie had a lot to do with it. He created the company culture that delivered success. He was the one that cared about people, and they were the company's only true assets. He was also a nice guy, in his late fifties, but he had a rapport with everyone, whatever their age, whatever their status.
When I got to Charlie's office he wasn't there, but his assistant suggested that I could wait in his office. So I sat in the visitor's chair at his desk for nearly twenty minutes. She offered me a cup of coffee, which I declined, I'd ***** enough coffee already, trying to avoid work. Eventually Charlie turned up.
"Tim, good to see you. I hope you haven't been waiting long."
"No, I wanted a word and I simply waited for you."
"Yes, sorry. Neil's had me in there for ages. Anyway what's this about? You don't stand an earthly of being allowed to recruit at the moment, so if its that, then let's not waste time."
"No, its personal."
"Well, in that case, let's have a cup of coffee. How do you take it."
There was no option, and anyway, having a coffee with Charlie seemed friendly, less formal, even if I had turned one down only a few minutes earlier. "White without, please."
Charlie put his head out of the office door and asked for two coffees. He came back to his desk, leaving the door wide open. He saw the look of concern on my face. "Let's wait for the coffee. Have you seen that they're trying to get a cricket team together. Apparently one of the banks' IT departments want to challenge us. You used to play a bit of cricket if I remember right?"
We made small talk about cricket until the coffee arrived, "Thanks" said Charlie, passing me a mug. "Could you close the door" he asked as the girl left. "Well? You look pretty uptight, so what is this all about?"
"About three hours ago I found out that my wife has been having a long affair. I've left her. I came into work, but I can't work and I think you should know." There I'd actually said it, my mouth did get round those dreadful words. And it felt better to find that I could say it. It was no longer a secret.
Charlie looked at me. He just watched me for what seemed like a very long time. Then he spoke. "I'm sorry, Tim. Of course you need the day off, you need the week off. That's not a problem. I'll tell Perry. Just go home."
"Oh God! No! I can't go home. I can't face her. I told her I want her out of the house before I get home this evening. I won't go home 'til I'm sure she's gone."
Again, Charlie paused. He leant forward across his desk. "You've got to face her sometime, Tim. You've got to talk to her."
"Yes, I know. But not yet. I'm so full of anger and hatred and wanting to hurt her. And I'm so empty of anything else. I can't talk to her yet. It would just be a slanging match, and I don't want my marriage to end on that."
"No. I see. Sure. OK, you shouldn't talk to her yet. Not until you're ready ..... and she is ready."
We both took a sip of our coffees. Then Charlie continued, "You know people do get over the most dreadful things in their marriages, and go on to happy life afterwards?"
"Some do, I know I won't. I don't see how there can be a way back from this. I want to find a little bachelor flat, sell the house and hope life brings something better next time. " I said.
"Well, wait and see. Don't do anything that you will regret later. And if it comes to divorce, then there can be a happy new life after that as well. I know because that's what happened to me. I promise you, either way its not as bad as you think it is now. I know, I've been there."
It was my turn just to look at him and wait. Charlie was the sort of man that is the stalwart of the middle classes and the community. His wife, Rose (I think I remembered her name) was of similar ilk. It was hard to imagine that their marriage was a late flowering love. I waited to see if he would tell me anymore. I wasn't that interested, but coffee and talking in this safe haven was better than being out there facing people.
"I didn't go to university when I left school. I married my school sweetheart, and went out to work. I thought we were very happy. After a couple of years she changed her job, and the new one seemed to demand that she work all sorts of odd hours. But the money was good and we needed that."
"Go on." I said, wondering where this was leading.
"Then one evening I was waiting for her in her company's regular watering hole, and when people realised who I was waiting for they sort of nudged and winked at me, implying I was in for a good time tonight. I wondered what it was all about."
"And?"
Charlie looked up at me, then leant back in his tilting chair and put his feet up on the desk. "It turned out that she had listed herself at the company in her old maiden name, and took off her wedding rings every morning before she went into work. She then flirted with and dated any and every guy she fancied. She had quite a reputation, hence the nudges in the pub."
"Good Heavens! What was she up to?"
"To this day I still don't know. I think I would still like to know and understand, even after all this time. That's why, whatever happens, you must talk. You must get to the truth, even if it hurts. Even if it confirms that there is no way forward." He looked up at me, staring me in the eyes.
Then he continued, "Obviously I divorced her. Divorce was a lot trickier in those days, but even then mine went through on the nod. It left me going pretty wild for a while. Then I decided I did want to go to university, so I was a late entrant. I wanted to understand more about people and their motivations. I wasn't clever enough for medical school and psychiatry. I guess that's why I ended up in personnel."
"So when did you meet your wife, and was getting married the second time easy?"
"She was a nurse, and I met her at a dance. All very traditional. I think she fancied me and decided to nurse me back to romantic good health. We've been married for thirty years last September. Two boys and a girl, and total happiness and contentment. I promise you Tim, there can be a happy ending."
"Maybe not for everyone." I said gloomily.
"That's probably how you feel now." He just stared at me as I was finishing my coffee. "So what are we going to do with you for today. Look, play it by ear. If you want to go home, then go home. How about telling your parents? They're still around I assume?"
"Well, sort of. They retired to Ireland a couple of years ago. You see my younger brother Paul was called up for Afghanistan, and was killed out there. It rather screwed them up. They sort of went inwards on themselves, and then decided that *** would retire and they'd do what they'd always promised themselves, they'd retire to Ireland which they've done."
Charlie looked at me, knowing I hadn't finished, "It's OK. They seem happy. And I have a good relationship with them. It's just a bit of a haul to get to see them, fly to Dublin and then drive for three hours. So we don't see a lot of each other. They have their life and I have mine, or I had mine!" I added bitterly.
"Well sometimes a cuddle from Mum helps at times like these, even when you are a big boy. Maybe you should get over there soon. Tell me, how did you feel about your brother's death?"
I looked at him, was this the amateur psychiatrist in him, or had he seen something? "Well I was pretty cut up about it at the time. Paul and myself fought like hell all through our childhood. And then as we got older we began to appreciate each other more. I think we could have been really good friends. But there was always time to sort that out. He was in London, living his fun bachelor life. I was happily married here, remodelling the house and working hard. There was always time to build my bridges with Paul. And then suddenly there was no time." Tears welled up in my eyes. I thought I'd cried every last ounce I had for Paul, but suddenly they all came back.
Charlie quietly pushed the box of tissues across the desk. I guess they're standard issue in Personnel. He quietly waited for me to wipe my eyes and blow my nose. I looked up at him and tried to smile. "It's ironic. I wanted so much to cry about Beth this morning and I couldn't. Now I can cry for Paul and he's been dead for years."
"I suspect they're the same tears. Don't worry."
He just sat and looked at me while I composed myself. Eventually he judged I could talk, or at least listen, "Look, Tim. You've got rough times ahead. If you think that this isn't just a little weekend hiatus, then I suggest you tell someone at work. Whatever you do, you are going to be grist for the gossip mill in this place. You might as well start it on your own terms and tell a trusted friend. Think about it, choose your best colleague and friend and take them out at lunch time and talk. Its got to be done, and it only gets harder the longer you try to pretend everything is OK. Even with all the prurient gossip, people will be a lot kinder if they know what's happened."
He stood up. "Thank you for coming to see me, Tim. I know it couldn't have been easy. Look, I've got to go to a meeting, but you stay here and compose yourself and think about things. Have another cup of coffee if you want. Keep me posted."
He reassuringly squeezed my shoulder as he passed, on his way out of the door.
I guess I sat there for another quarter of an hour. I was conscious that the personnel staff were watching me, but discretely leaving me alone. It had felt easier having talked to Charlie. So I decided that he was probably right, I should tell someone else. Finally I went back to my desk. Not a lot had changed there.
I went to find Dave. David Finch was my best friend at work. He had joined about two months after me, and one grade below me. We had progressed in parallel. He was now my right hand man and my best project manager. He was also my eyes and ears on what was going on amongst my teams, always tipping me off to put right all the little things that go wrong in working teams. Dave was about a year younger than me, unreasonably handsome, tall and dark, with big soft brown eyes. There was some Italian blood in him somewhere. Dave's looks were his downfall. While I was the devoted married man, Dave never got very far into a relationship, at the first sign of a problem he would dump her and move on. There were always plenty of candidates for Dave's bed. Maybe the differences between us are why we worked together so well. That, and that we hardly ever saw each other out of work, we had these different lifestyles.
"Dave, you doing anything for lunch?"
"I've got to buy Maddy a birthday card. It's her birthday on Monday. Other than that, no, nothing. Why, you fancying a small half?"
"Who's Maddy?" I asked, although I should have known. It was his latest conquest. She apparently moved in a week ago. Another poor girl in the long line of recruits to the battalions of Dave's ex's, only she doesn't know it yet.
Rather than the pub, I wanted to walk in the fresh air. First it was more private, second, I didn't feel like eating or drinking. So I suggested that we went into town, we could get Maddy's card and a sandwich for Dave, and then we could stroll along the river. Dave, who was used to my eccentricities still looked a little askance at this suggestion. But if that's what his boss wanted to do...
Once we had done the little bit of shopping and had walked along the river bank to an empty seat provided by someone for others to sit and enjoy the view, I told Dave the full story. I found it easier than I had imagined. He was sympathetic, but there was little he could say or do. I knew that he would cover for me if work got a little demanding when I wasn't there or able to take up the strain. I didn't exactly swear him to secrecy, but I did imply that he should be fairly discrete with what he knew, at least for a few days.
Strolling back to the office Dave asked if he could change the subject. I was rather pleased that he did. He wanted to know what was going on with the ITP contract. Apparently the whole ITP team were very nervous but not saying a word, they must know something. I couldn't enlighten him. I told him about my lunch with Perry, but that didn't add much to our pool of understanding. He told me that Perry had eventually phoned in sick. I wasn't surprised when I thought about how much he had ***** yesterday. I told Dave about the call I'd received for a lunch at ITP. Neither of us could explain it. I think both of us worried that Perry was going to rearrange the department so that we were all working on saving his project, at the detriment to our own and our clients. I could only say I'd fight it.
As we walked through the office doors I saw Beth sitting in a visitor's chair in Reception. Dave disappeared in a puff of smoke! I looked at her, she stood up and looked at me. Neither of us said a word. The iceberg just landed in my chest, but it didn't freeze the raging tumult in my stomach. I turned to the Receptionist "Is the Conference Room free?" She nodded, not wanting to say a word either, probably recognising that something was going on, she just didn't know what.
I opened the Conference Room door, and waited for Beth to go in. I caught a whiff of her perfume as she passed me, she wasn't missing a trick. She was casually but sexily dressed, as white as a sheet and with sunglasses to hide what must have been very red eyes. Once we were inside, we naturally took positions at opposite ends of the long conference table, neither of us sat down.
I looked at her "Yes?"
"Please Tim, don't throw me out. Where am I to go? How can we talk this through if I'm sent away? Please...Tim..."
"I don't really care where you go. I guess your parents are the obvious choice. They aren't too far away, you could get back for your work, and you only have to visit that once or twice a week, and rarely in rush hour. But it's up to you. I just don't want you there when I get in tonight." I surprised myself with the reasonableness of my answer. Not one bit of shouting. Not one swear word.
"What are you going to do? We have to talk. I have to convince you how sorry I am. To make you realise that it will never, ever happen again. Please Tim, don't throw away so much that we had."
"I'm not throwing anything away. You threw it away. I'm just tidying up afterwards." I got real bitterness into my voice as I said that. I think I scored a hit with that one. Then I relented a little, "Look, if we try to talk now I will want to hurt you, to make you feel the hurt I'm feeling right now. I don't know whether its hate or contempt I feel, but it's not conducive to civilised discussion. If you want to talk you've got to wait until I'm ready to listen." I turned to leave, there was nothing more to be said, or so I thought.
As I got to the door she blurted out "I'm not a lying cheating slut. And don't you ever call me that again. I have never lied to you. I never cheated you of anything, I loved you and thoroughly enjoyed making love with you, always. And I'm not a slut. Except for Ken, I've been with no man since I started going steady with you ten years ago. I am not a lying cheating slut."
That stopped me in my tracks for a moment. But then I just kept walking.
Dave watched me come into the department. He came over "Are you OK?"
"Yes, sure." I lied.
I'm not sure how I got through the rest of the afternoon, but I did. There was one bright spot when Charlie came passed my desk, "I had lunch with Rose today. I don't know whether you know, but she works part time at Symmonds & Burtons, the agents in the High Street. I told her a little of your story, I hope you don't mind, she will be very discrete. She tells me that she has a one bedroom flat, new to the market coming on in about a week's time. She suggested that you might like it. It's a bit of a special case, it's a private ****** down by River Mead, they are having major work done on their house, and they want someone to live in the new conversion above the garage whilst the builders are there, as they are living in rented accommodation on the other side of town. There's a fifty percent reduction in the rent for the first year."
I was busy trying to remember where River Mead was, and then I remembered, it was down by the River! Actually, in quite a convenient and nice part of town. I hadn't given any thought to where I was going to live, but this might be the answer. So "I could be interested." I replied.
"Well Rose's suggestion is that she collects you from your house at about five tomorrow afternoon. She'll take you to see it, the owners will be there so you can meet them, and then she can bring you back to our house for supper. If its late afternoon, you can be her last appointment for the day. Say, if you have other plans."
I was taken aback by the kindness. "Well, I haven't the faintest idea what I'm doing this weekend. I guess it's the weekend for moping, and crying, and being generally emotional. I doubt whether I'll be very good company. Are you sure?"
"Yes, Rose loves a broken heart. I told you, that's her speciality. Look, if when you get in tonight things change, or even tomorrow, just phone me or Rose. We'll understand. Here's Rose's card, then you'll be able to get her if you need to. Otherwise, I'll see you tomorrow."
Not long after that, Dave came up again. "Some of us are going over the road for a quick one after work. I doubt whether you'll fancy it, but I didn't want to cut you out."
I didn't fancy it, but I fancied going home even less. "Yes, I'll come. Anything that makes sure Beth's had enough time to get out of there. I'll see you at close of play" I glanced at my watch. It was already passed five o'clock.
"Well if you're coming, let's go now. We'll beat the rush. And I don't want to be late for Maddy, I can't get enough of that body." He suddenly looked at me with concern. "Oh, sorry. I guess you don't need to hear about rampant sex at the moment."
"Don't worry. I do know the rest of the world is still turning. It's only my bit that has stood still, frozen in time. OK let's go." I headed for the door. "Aren't the rest coming?"
"They'll follow. Someone has discovered a website with a cartoon of George Bush and Tony Blair doing things to each other that I am sure are illegal in many parts of the world."
"I said I didn't mind hearing about other people's sex lives, but there is a limit!" It was the first time that day that I think I had given a normal, light-hearted reply. It felt good. It also reminded me that although I had just said that my world was frozen in time, it wasn't. Even for me things were moving on.
Dave and myself made small talk and minor gossip in the pub. He drank beer, I drank Coke; I thought the sugar and caffeine might do some good. And I certainly couldn't face beer. Dave sunk his pint, and let me buy him another one. That one he took a bit slower. I reminded him that he needed to get back to his Maddy. He looked at my hardly touched Coke and said there was no rush. Eventually I managed to drink most of it, with Dave protecting me from the cheerful banter of the rest of the TGI crowd. Dave looked at me and asked if it was alright if he headed for the delights of Maddy. "Sure" I said, and he left.
He must have passed Alice in the doorway. She got herself a drink and came over. "Hi, how's you?"
"Just leaving" I said. And left.
As I drove home I could feel real fear growing inside of me. I was scared she'd still be there. I couldn't face her. This afternoon in the office she had taken me unawares, and I coped, although I had found it difficult. To calmly walk in to our home, no not home anymore, just house, and meet her would be too much.
As I pulled into the drive I noted that her car was not there. I opened the front door quietly. It was totally silent. I went into the kitchen. It was empty, but there was one sheet of lilac notepaper on the table, with "I LOVE YOU" written right across it and the single rose in a stem vase beside it. I went into the sitting room. It was cold and empty. Not the warm friendly room that Beth and I had tried to create. I sat down and turned on the television. There was a couple shouting at each other. I turned off the television. I looked round, and then the little table in the alcove caught my eye. On it were our photographs. Of our wedding day. Of our graduation. Of this house as a wreck when we moved in. Of our honeymoon. My whole life was there.
Suddenly, I cried and cried and cried.
Eventually I stopped crying and for some reason, I don't know why, I went upstairs. I went into our bedroom. It seemed even more empty than the sitting room. I opened Beth's wardrobe to see if she had taken all her clothes. She had taken a lot of them, but there were still plenty there. And they smelled of her and her perfume. I held a dress to my face. And I cried.
I collapsed onto the bed and I cried. I wanted her back. The tears kept coming. I wanted to shout at her. I cried and I cried. I wanted to shake her and make her feel my hurt. I didn't seem able to stop crying. I wanted her back in this house where she belonged. My throat and face hurt from the crying. I wanted her to realise just what she'd done. The tears just went on and on. I wanted to kiss her and hold her just once more. And I cried. I wanted to wake up and find that this was all a ghastly dream. The tears were making the bed wet. I wanted to go back far enough that I could put right whatever silly notion had made her do this terrible thing. And I couldn't. It was too late.
She had her back to me as I came in, but she looked round as she heard the door. "I wondered where you were."
"Look what I found. That rose is covered in blooms at the moment." I offered her the single bloom as a loving gift. "Don't you think that's significant.?"
"What is?" she asked as she held the rose to her face and sniffed its scent.
"Don't you remember? That's the rose that your parents gave us on the first wedding anniversary that we were here. The next year it had a couple of flowers on it, then every year it has grown and bloomed more. This year it's covered. Don't you think that's significant? It must mean something."
"It means that you're a silly romantic and that roses like the soil here."
"Maybe I am, but I've every right to be so." I knelt on the floor in front of her. "I have the most wonderful wife. I wanted to say sorry for my foolishness last night and tell you that I love you very much. You are the very centre of my being. I hope you know that. I do love you Beth, and I don't really doubt you, I don't know what got into me yesterday. I guess it was several pints of beer, but I shouldn't have said what I did. I'm sorry."
She leant forward and kissed me on the cheek. "You're forgiven."
"No, I want to say sorry more than that. I do trust you, you know. Do you remember that Adam incident when we lived in London. I trusted you then. You were the one that told me that you had a bloke at work who was getting a bit silly about you. I know you'd talk to me if, heaven forbid, you did find that you were unhappy or vulnerable to some man. I know you wouldn't go off and have an affair."
She looked up with a distant look in her eye, "Yes. I'd forgotten Adam. He took a lot of talking to at that company barbeque. Do you remember?"
"When he tried to talk to you alone, offering to get you drinks or food from the barbie? And he did it all right in front of me. His intent was pretty obvious. Didn't he know that I was your husband?"
"I don't think he cared. But it was because you were there that I put him down so firmly."
"You were pretty cruel. Why do you think I sent you to go and talk to him? To at least rebuild his ego at little bit. I have a confession to make about that."
"What?" she asked, looking interested.
"Well, I said you should go and let him down a bit better than you did. Leave the poor guy some ego. Do you remember? And you went off to find him. After about quarter of an hour I began to get a bit worried, and I went looking for you. I found you just talking to him on a seat right at the end of the garden, hidden from everyone else. I crept away leaving you to it."
"I knew you were there. Your reflection was in the window of that garden shed."
"And neither of us said anything. I guess there was no need. What I wanted to say is that I do trust you. Even with the Adam's of this world. You talked to me about him and I know you would talk to me about anything. I love you Beth Williams."
"And I love you, Tim Williams."
We kissed and then just held each other.
"You would tell me if anything worried you, wouldn't you Beth?" I don't know why I returned to the subject, I guess I just wanted to make sure that she did know that she could talk about anything.
"Yes. Of course."
"I remember when Paul was killed. You put up with me going on and on about Paul, day after day for weeks, until I had got all my feelings straight in my head. I was so grateful to you for that. You were wonderful. I think that's part of the reason I love and respect you more now than when we got married."
"Well he was far too young to die, and I knew it was a terrible time for you. I remember feeling so useless. You were so upset, and there was nothing I could do except let you talk."
I gave her another hug and squeeze. Then I had other ideas. "You haven't got anything on under that robe. You don't fancy a quickie on the kitchen table do you.?"
"Down boy. You'd be late for work." She smiled at me.
"Yes, your right. Anyway, I want to save you until after a dinner at The Lobster Pot tonight."
"For a dinner at The Lobster Pot you can have me before and after, and possibly during." She sat back and looked at me. "Anyway, The Lobster Pot is a bit much. I've already accepted your apology."
"Well I've got something else to say. To show how much I love you and trust you."
"Ooh! What?"
"You'll have to wait." I leant in again to give her one last kiss and hug.
From inside my hug I heard her hesitantly and quietly "You know I do get some things a bit muddled sometimes. But I do know that I love you so much, Tim...."
Then the doorbell went.
I stood up. "Who the hell is that? At this time of the morning!"
I went to the hall, and approaching the front door I could see Jean's auburn hair through the hazy glass of the door. Oh my God. Jean! I had forgotten my phone call. What chaos and damage had I caused in their house. How do you say sorry to a neighbour for causing a real argument between a husband and wife? I opened the door.
"I'm sorry Jean..."
"Yes I guess it isn't a good time in here any more than in my house." She said as she walked in, straight passed me. She could see Beth in the kitchen, through the open door.
Beth looked at her, down the hall, and said "Hi!"
So Jean went forward into the kitchen, and that's where she continued "I don't know what you two are going to do, but I thought you ought to know that Ken has admitted to it going on for three months. I don't know what she's told you, Tim. Anyway, we will be selling the house. For me it's the end."
The world went into slow motion. Three months!? Three months!? THREE MONTHS!?
Somewhere I heard Jean continuing, but I didn't really hear what she was saying. It was something to do with her having all the money, and that she was sending Ken to Spain for two months. I didn't really understand. I was watching Beth. She was getting smaller and more curled up on her chair as I watched her. She was white.
Jean was walking out again. I followed her. I was on autopilot, and I was seeing her to the door. That's what you did with visitors when they were leaving. I began to hear her again. "... they were both adults, they both knew what they were doing. But I'd like to bet that Ken was the one that started it. He can't resist trying it on as soon as he sees a pretty face."
By then she was standing in our porch and she turned to talk to me, "I'm so sorry Tim. I thought you and Beth were the perfect couple, I thought you'd be immune from Ken even if he did try something. I'm going to drive up to London. I'm taking Ken to Heathrow to make sure he gets a plane to Spain. He would have had to go there very soon anyway, we've got builders in on the villa, so he might as well be useful and oversee that before I get rid of him. You needn't worry, he won't come back. He'll be desperate trying to either placate me, or at least get himself a good settlement. I won't be back for a couple of weeks. Then I'll come down to start clearing up and put the house on the market. I'll give you a call then. Don't worry Tim. I promise you it will get better, whatever you do."
She just left, walking down our drive. The bearer of bad news. Shouldn't I kill her or something? I turned back to the kitchen. I felt totally icy. I knew that I used to have a heart. Now I had just a block of ice in that body cavity.
And I was angry. Coldly. Deliberately. Angry.
Beth watched me as I came into the kitchen. She looked frightened, but maybe she had every right to, I couldn't see me, but I bet I looked exactly as I felt. "I'm sorry..... I can explain....I was going to tell you.... I'm so sorry..."
"You can explain! There is no possible explanation. Three months? Three bloody months of lying and cheating?"
She started to cry and she curled up onto her lap. All I could hear were sobs. Sobs and the occasional "I'm sorry"
"Three months?" my voice was raising
"I'm sorry... you've got to forgive me..." she sobbed.
"THREE MONTHS?" I shouted, slamming my hand onto the table and jangling the crockery. I leant right across so that my face was almost her side of the table. "Answer me. Have you been having an affair with Ken for three months?"
"I'm sorry. I should have stopped it. I should have talked to you before it started. You've got to believe me. I'm sorry..."
"I'll ask once more. If you don't answer then I'm walking out. And I won't be back ....ever! HAVE YOU BEEN HAVING AN AFFAIR WITH KEN FOR THREE MONTHS?"
She looked up at me and whispered "Yes."
"Pardon? I didn't hear that." I sat down, heavily in my chair. I don't think my legs would let me stand any longer. It was my turn to crumple into a heap.
Beth slid out of her chair and came to kneel at my feet, "Yes ... I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I do love you Tim. Please don't leave me. Last night I decided to finish it. I was about to start telling you when Jean arrived. I'm sorry. You've got to believe me..."
I looked up at her. The ice had taken control again. "I'm going to work now. I don't want you here when I get home. Let me know where you've gone, or I'll contact you through your parents. There is nothing else to say. Goodbye Beth."
"No! No! You can't. I love you. We can work it out. Please ... Tim ... Please ...I'm your wife ..."
"No you're not. Not any more. You are just a - cheating - lying - slut that used to be my wife, in the days when you were decent and worth loving." I got up and just walked out, slamming the kitchen door behind me.
As I walked the short length of the hall I heard a bestial scream from the kitchen. It was a howl of a wounded, once proud animal. I slammed the front door behind me.
I got to the drive and only then realised that I hadn't got my suit jacket. There was no way that I was going back, so I'll live without it. I'm pretty sure there are no formal meetings. Then there was no car where it should have been. Oh bugger, it's at work. Well, maybe that's for the best. I'll have to walk, and that way I can calm down. I've got to learn to work whilst I'm a bachelor again.
I don't remember much of that long walk into town. I just felt things, I didn't think. I know I wanted myself to cry, I tried to blubber up some tears but they didn't come. I wanted them so badly, I thought they would give me the release from the pressure. Tears would stop my head exploding. But they wouldn't come. And my head didn't explode.
As I came through the office reception I noticed that there was no receptionist on duty, just the security guard. I had lost all track of time. I looked at the wall clock, it was twenty to nine, and the receptionist didn't start until nine o'clock. After all that had happened, I was officially early, but late for me. I liked to be there by half past eight normally.
I sat at my desk and booted up my computer. I picked up my phone and hit the button for my voice mail. "You have ... 3... messages" said Mrs Metallica. I hit the button again. It was a client wanting me to call back. It didn't sound urgent. I hit the button. It was a Greg Dickens (or Dickers?) of ITP wanting lunch with me. What was that about? Don't tell me that after months of keeping Perry off my best guys, he was going to draft me onto that bloody ITP project. Maybe that's what yesterday's lunch was meant to be about. Odd! But not a lot I can do about it until Perry comes in. I hit the button. It was sobbing and gasping. Beth, almost indecipherable in her words. I switched off. I didn't want to listen.
My email was just as mundane. Someone was trying to get a company cricket team together. I knew I should fancy that, but I didn't. Anyway how can I commit myself for a season when I don't know how I'm going to live until lunch time?
I sat back. Colleagues were drifting into to their work stations. Some said 'Hi' without even looking up from the desk or papers. I noticed that those I looked at and who looked at me didn't say a word. Obviously there was something written across my forehead that warned them off. Did it say Cuckold in bright red capital letters?
I tried to work, I wanted to bury myself in work problems. I was OK, or so I thought, in talking to people. I thought I was holding sensible business conversations. But I couldn't read a thing. Words were read, they just didn't make sense. Nothing stuck in my mind for the length of time between reading the beginning of a sentence and the end of that same sentence. I tried again and again and again in between visits to the coffee machine, to the loo (even when I didn't need to go), to the stationery cupboard although I had plenty of pens and paper. Anything to avoid real work.
It was no good. I had to tell someone. Friend or manager? That was the question. I couldn't face telling a friend, they would ask questions, they might show patronising sympathy, and I couldn't stand that. I know I would have to face it all sometime. But not yet. Not now. So that left Manager. That seemed fair. I obviously wasn't going to work well today, and maybe never again. I owed it to them to put them in the picture.
Perry's office was empty. Stella saw me looking and simply said "He isn't in yet."
No Perry, so who? Charlie Bullard, the Personnel Director? Actually that could be a good choice. Charlie was a founder of the company with Neil Timmons, the CEO. Apparently there had been a third guy, but he dropped out (or was pushed out) early on. The early success was always attributed to Neil's great sales ability. I always thought that Charlie had a lot to do with it. He created the company culture that delivered success. He was the one that cared about people, and they were the company's only true assets. He was also a nice guy, in his late fifties, but he had a rapport with everyone, whatever their age, whatever their status.
When I got to Charlie's office he wasn't there, but his assistant suggested that I could wait in his office. So I sat in the visitor's chair at his desk for nearly twenty minutes. She offered me a cup of coffee, which I declined, I'd ***** enough coffee already, trying to avoid work. Eventually Charlie turned up.
"Tim, good to see you. I hope you haven't been waiting long."
"No, I wanted a word and I simply waited for you."
"Yes, sorry. Neil's had me in there for ages. Anyway what's this about? You don't stand an earthly of being allowed to recruit at the moment, so if its that, then let's not waste time."
"No, its personal."
"Well, in that case, let's have a cup of coffee. How do you take it."
There was no option, and anyway, having a coffee with Charlie seemed friendly, less formal, even if I had turned one down only a few minutes earlier. "White without, please."
Charlie put his head out of the office door and asked for two coffees. He came back to his desk, leaving the door wide open. He saw the look of concern on my face. "Let's wait for the coffee. Have you seen that they're trying to get a cricket team together. Apparently one of the banks' IT departments want to challenge us. You used to play a bit of cricket if I remember right?"
We made small talk about cricket until the coffee arrived, "Thanks" said Charlie, passing me a mug. "Could you close the door" he asked as the girl left. "Well? You look pretty uptight, so what is this all about?"
"About three hours ago I found out that my wife has been having a long affair. I've left her. I came into work, but I can't work and I think you should know." There I'd actually said it, my mouth did get round those dreadful words. And it felt better to find that I could say it. It was no longer a secret.
Charlie looked at me. He just watched me for what seemed like a very long time. Then he spoke. "I'm sorry, Tim. Of course you need the day off, you need the week off. That's not a problem. I'll tell Perry. Just go home."
"Oh God! No! I can't go home. I can't face her. I told her I want her out of the house before I get home this evening. I won't go home 'til I'm sure she's gone."
Again, Charlie paused. He leant forward across his desk. "You've got to face her sometime, Tim. You've got to talk to her."
"Yes, I know. But not yet. I'm so full of anger and hatred and wanting to hurt her. And I'm so empty of anything else. I can't talk to her yet. It would just be a slanging match, and I don't want my marriage to end on that."
"No. I see. Sure. OK, you shouldn't talk to her yet. Not until you're ready ..... and she is ready."
We both took a sip of our coffees. Then Charlie continued, "You know people do get over the most dreadful things in their marriages, and go on to happy life afterwards?"
"Some do, I know I won't. I don't see how there can be a way back from this. I want to find a little bachelor flat, sell the house and hope life brings something better next time. " I said.
"Well, wait and see. Don't do anything that you will regret later. And if it comes to divorce, then there can be a happy new life after that as well. I know because that's what happened to me. I promise you, either way its not as bad as you think it is now. I know, I've been there."
It was my turn just to look at him and wait. Charlie was the sort of man that is the stalwart of the middle classes and the community. His wife, Rose (I think I remembered her name) was of similar ilk. It was hard to imagine that their marriage was a late flowering love. I waited to see if he would tell me anymore. I wasn't that interested, but coffee and talking in this safe haven was better than being out there facing people.
"I didn't go to university when I left school. I married my school sweetheart, and went out to work. I thought we were very happy. After a couple of years she changed her job, and the new one seemed to demand that she work all sorts of odd hours. But the money was good and we needed that."
"Go on." I said, wondering where this was leading.
"Then one evening I was waiting for her in her company's regular watering hole, and when people realised who I was waiting for they sort of nudged and winked at me, implying I was in for a good time tonight. I wondered what it was all about."
"And?"
Charlie looked up at me, then leant back in his tilting chair and put his feet up on the desk. "It turned out that she had listed herself at the company in her old maiden name, and took off her wedding rings every morning before she went into work. She then flirted with and dated any and every guy she fancied. She had quite a reputation, hence the nudges in the pub."
"Good Heavens! What was she up to?"
"To this day I still don't know. I think I would still like to know and understand, even after all this time. That's why, whatever happens, you must talk. You must get to the truth, even if it hurts. Even if it confirms that there is no way forward." He looked up at me, staring me in the eyes.
Then he continued, "Obviously I divorced her. Divorce was a lot trickier in those days, but even then mine went through on the nod. It left me going pretty wild for a while. Then I decided I did want to go to university, so I was a late entrant. I wanted to understand more about people and their motivations. I wasn't clever enough for medical school and psychiatry. I guess that's why I ended up in personnel."
"So when did you meet your wife, and was getting married the second time easy?"
"She was a nurse, and I met her at a dance. All very traditional. I think she fancied me and decided to nurse me back to romantic good health. We've been married for thirty years last September. Two boys and a girl, and total happiness and contentment. I promise you Tim, there can be a happy ending."
"Maybe not for everyone." I said gloomily.
"That's probably how you feel now." He just stared at me as I was finishing my coffee. "So what are we going to do with you for today. Look, play it by ear. If you want to go home, then go home. How about telling your parents? They're still around I assume?"
"Well, sort of. They retired to Ireland a couple of years ago. You see my younger brother Paul was called up for Afghanistan, and was killed out there. It rather screwed them up. They sort of went inwards on themselves, and then decided that *** would retire and they'd do what they'd always promised themselves, they'd retire to Ireland which they've done."
Charlie looked at me, knowing I hadn't finished, "It's OK. They seem happy. And I have a good relationship with them. It's just a bit of a haul to get to see them, fly to Dublin and then drive for three hours. So we don't see a lot of each other. They have their life and I have mine, or I had mine!" I added bitterly.
"Well sometimes a cuddle from Mum helps at times like these, even when you are a big boy. Maybe you should get over there soon. Tell me, how did you feel about your brother's death?"
I looked at him, was this the amateur psychiatrist in him, or had he seen something? "Well I was pretty cut up about it at the time. Paul and myself fought like hell all through our childhood. And then as we got older we began to appreciate each other more. I think we could have been really good friends. But there was always time to sort that out. He was in London, living his fun bachelor life. I was happily married here, remodelling the house and working hard. There was always time to build my bridges with Paul. And then suddenly there was no time." Tears welled up in my eyes. I thought I'd cried every last ounce I had for Paul, but suddenly they all came back.
Charlie quietly pushed the box of tissues across the desk. I guess they're standard issue in Personnel. He quietly waited for me to wipe my eyes and blow my nose. I looked up at him and tried to smile. "It's ironic. I wanted so much to cry about Beth this morning and I couldn't. Now I can cry for Paul and he's been dead for years."
"I suspect they're the same tears. Don't worry."
He just sat and looked at me while I composed myself. Eventually he judged I could talk, or at least listen, "Look, Tim. You've got rough times ahead. If you think that this isn't just a little weekend hiatus, then I suggest you tell someone at work. Whatever you do, you are going to be grist for the gossip mill in this place. You might as well start it on your own terms and tell a trusted friend. Think about it, choose your best colleague and friend and take them out at lunch time and talk. Its got to be done, and it only gets harder the longer you try to pretend everything is OK. Even with all the prurient gossip, people will be a lot kinder if they know what's happened."
He stood up. "Thank you for coming to see me, Tim. I know it couldn't have been easy. Look, I've got to go to a meeting, but you stay here and compose yourself and think about things. Have another cup of coffee if you want. Keep me posted."
He reassuringly squeezed my shoulder as he passed, on his way out of the door.
I guess I sat there for another quarter of an hour. I was conscious that the personnel staff were watching me, but discretely leaving me alone. It had felt easier having talked to Charlie. So I decided that he was probably right, I should tell someone else. Finally I went back to my desk. Not a lot had changed there.
I went to find Dave. David Finch was my best friend at work. He had joined about two months after me, and one grade below me. We had progressed in parallel. He was now my right hand man and my best project manager. He was also my eyes and ears on what was going on amongst my teams, always tipping me off to put right all the little things that go wrong in working teams. Dave was about a year younger than me, unreasonably handsome, tall and dark, with big soft brown eyes. There was some Italian blood in him somewhere. Dave's looks were his downfall. While I was the devoted married man, Dave never got very far into a relationship, at the first sign of a problem he would dump her and move on. There were always plenty of candidates for Dave's bed. Maybe the differences between us are why we worked together so well. That, and that we hardly ever saw each other out of work, we had these different lifestyles.
"Dave, you doing anything for lunch?"
"I've got to buy Maddy a birthday card. It's her birthday on Monday. Other than that, no, nothing. Why, you fancying a small half?"
"Who's Maddy?" I asked, although I should have known. It was his latest conquest. She apparently moved in a week ago. Another poor girl in the long line of recruits to the battalions of Dave's ex's, only she doesn't know it yet.
Rather than the pub, I wanted to walk in the fresh air. First it was more private, second, I didn't feel like eating or drinking. So I suggested that we went into town, we could get Maddy's card and a sandwich for Dave, and then we could stroll along the river. Dave, who was used to my eccentricities still looked a little askance at this suggestion. But if that's what his boss wanted to do...
Once we had done the little bit of shopping and had walked along the river bank to an empty seat provided by someone for others to sit and enjoy the view, I told Dave the full story. I found it easier than I had imagined. He was sympathetic, but there was little he could say or do. I knew that he would cover for me if work got a little demanding when I wasn't there or able to take up the strain. I didn't exactly swear him to secrecy, but I did imply that he should be fairly discrete with what he knew, at least for a few days.
Strolling back to the office Dave asked if he could change the subject. I was rather pleased that he did. He wanted to know what was going on with the ITP contract. Apparently the whole ITP team were very nervous but not saying a word, they must know something. I couldn't enlighten him. I told him about my lunch with Perry, but that didn't add much to our pool of understanding. He told me that Perry had eventually phoned in sick. I wasn't surprised when I thought about how much he had ***** yesterday. I told Dave about the call I'd received for a lunch at ITP. Neither of us could explain it. I think both of us worried that Perry was going to rearrange the department so that we were all working on saving his project, at the detriment to our own and our clients. I could only say I'd fight it.
As we walked through the office doors I saw Beth sitting in a visitor's chair in Reception. Dave disappeared in a puff of smoke! I looked at her, she stood up and looked at me. Neither of us said a word. The iceberg just landed in my chest, but it didn't freeze the raging tumult in my stomach. I turned to the Receptionist "Is the Conference Room free?" She nodded, not wanting to say a word either, probably recognising that something was going on, she just didn't know what.
I opened the Conference Room door, and waited for Beth to go in. I caught a whiff of her perfume as she passed me, she wasn't missing a trick. She was casually but sexily dressed, as white as a sheet and with sunglasses to hide what must have been very red eyes. Once we were inside, we naturally took positions at opposite ends of the long conference table, neither of us sat down.
I looked at her "Yes?"
"Please Tim, don't throw me out. Where am I to go? How can we talk this through if I'm sent away? Please...Tim..."
"I don't really care where you go. I guess your parents are the obvious choice. They aren't too far away, you could get back for your work, and you only have to visit that once or twice a week, and rarely in rush hour. But it's up to you. I just don't want you there when I get in tonight." I surprised myself with the reasonableness of my answer. Not one bit of shouting. Not one swear word.
"What are you going to do? We have to talk. I have to convince you how sorry I am. To make you realise that it will never, ever happen again. Please Tim, don't throw away so much that we had."
"I'm not throwing anything away. You threw it away. I'm just tidying up afterwards." I got real bitterness into my voice as I said that. I think I scored a hit with that one. Then I relented a little, "Look, if we try to talk now I will want to hurt you, to make you feel the hurt I'm feeling right now. I don't know whether its hate or contempt I feel, but it's not conducive to civilised discussion. If you want to talk you've got to wait until I'm ready to listen." I turned to leave, there was nothing more to be said, or so I thought.
As I got to the door she blurted out "I'm not a lying cheating slut. And don't you ever call me that again. I have never lied to you. I never cheated you of anything, I loved you and thoroughly enjoyed making love with you, always. And I'm not a slut. Except for Ken, I've been with no man since I started going steady with you ten years ago. I am not a lying cheating slut."
That stopped me in my tracks for a moment. But then I just kept walking.
Dave watched me come into the department. He came over "Are you OK?"
"Yes, sure." I lied.
I'm not sure how I got through the rest of the afternoon, but I did. There was one bright spot when Charlie came passed my desk, "I had lunch with Rose today. I don't know whether you know, but she works part time at Symmonds & Burtons, the agents in the High Street. I told her a little of your story, I hope you don't mind, she will be very discrete. She tells me that she has a one bedroom flat, new to the market coming on in about a week's time. She suggested that you might like it. It's a bit of a special case, it's a private ****** down by River Mead, they are having major work done on their house, and they want someone to live in the new conversion above the garage whilst the builders are there, as they are living in rented accommodation on the other side of town. There's a fifty percent reduction in the rent for the first year."
I was busy trying to remember where River Mead was, and then I remembered, it was down by the River! Actually, in quite a convenient and nice part of town. I hadn't given any thought to where I was going to live, but this might be the answer. So "I could be interested." I replied.
"Well Rose's suggestion is that she collects you from your house at about five tomorrow afternoon. She'll take you to see it, the owners will be there so you can meet them, and then she can bring you back to our house for supper. If its late afternoon, you can be her last appointment for the day. Say, if you have other plans."
I was taken aback by the kindness. "Well, I haven't the faintest idea what I'm doing this weekend. I guess it's the weekend for moping, and crying, and being generally emotional. I doubt whether I'll be very good company. Are you sure?"
"Yes, Rose loves a broken heart. I told you, that's her speciality. Look, if when you get in tonight things change, or even tomorrow, just phone me or Rose. We'll understand. Here's Rose's card, then you'll be able to get her if you need to. Otherwise, I'll see you tomorrow."
Not long after that, Dave came up again. "Some of us are going over the road for a quick one after work. I doubt whether you'll fancy it, but I didn't want to cut you out."
I didn't fancy it, but I fancied going home even less. "Yes, I'll come. Anything that makes sure Beth's had enough time to get out of there. I'll see you at close of play" I glanced at my watch. It was already passed five o'clock.
"Well if you're coming, let's go now. We'll beat the rush. And I don't want to be late for Maddy, I can't get enough of that body." He suddenly looked at me with concern. "Oh, sorry. I guess you don't need to hear about rampant sex at the moment."
"Don't worry. I do know the rest of the world is still turning. It's only my bit that has stood still, frozen in time. OK let's go." I headed for the door. "Aren't the rest coming?"
"They'll follow. Someone has discovered a website with a cartoon of George Bush and Tony Blair doing things to each other that I am sure are illegal in many parts of the world."
"I said I didn't mind hearing about other people's sex lives, but there is a limit!" It was the first time that day that I think I had given a normal, light-hearted reply. It felt good. It also reminded me that although I had just said that my world was frozen in time, it wasn't. Even for me things were moving on.
Dave and myself made small talk and minor gossip in the pub. He drank beer, I drank Coke; I thought the sugar and caffeine might do some good. And I certainly couldn't face beer. Dave sunk his pint, and let me buy him another one. That one he took a bit slower. I reminded him that he needed to get back to his Maddy. He looked at my hardly touched Coke and said there was no rush. Eventually I managed to drink most of it, with Dave protecting me from the cheerful banter of the rest of the TGI crowd. Dave looked at me and asked if it was alright if he headed for the delights of Maddy. "Sure" I said, and he left.
He must have passed Alice in the doorway. She got herself a drink and came over. "Hi, how's you?"
"Just leaving" I said. And left.
As I drove home I could feel real fear growing inside of me. I was scared she'd still be there. I couldn't face her. This afternoon in the office she had taken me unawares, and I coped, although I had found it difficult. To calmly walk in to our home, no not home anymore, just house, and meet her would be too much.
As I pulled into the drive I noted that her car was not there. I opened the front door quietly. It was totally silent. I went into the kitchen. It was empty, but there was one sheet of lilac notepaper on the table, with "I LOVE YOU" written right across it and the single rose in a stem vase beside it. I went into the sitting room. It was cold and empty. Not the warm friendly room that Beth and I had tried to create. I sat down and turned on the television. There was a couple shouting at each other. I turned off the television. I looked round, and then the little table in the alcove caught my eye. On it were our photographs. Of our wedding day. Of our graduation. Of this house as a wreck when we moved in. Of our honeymoon. My whole life was there.
Suddenly, I cried and cried and cried.
Eventually I stopped crying and for some reason, I don't know why, I went upstairs. I went into our bedroom. It seemed even more empty than the sitting room. I opened Beth's wardrobe to see if she had taken all her clothes. She had taken a lot of them, but there were still plenty there. And they smelled of her and her perfume. I held a dress to my face. And I cried.
I collapsed onto the bed and I cried. I wanted her back. The tears kept coming. I wanted to shout at her. I cried and I cried. I wanted to shake her and make her feel my hurt. I didn't seem able to stop crying. I wanted her back in this house where she belonged. My throat and face hurt from the crying. I wanted her to realise just what she'd done. The tears just went on and on. I wanted to kiss her and hold her just once more. And I cried. I wanted to wake up and find that this was all a ghastly dream. The tears were making the bed wet. I wanted to go back far enough that I could put right whatever silly notion had made her do this terrible thing. And I couldn't. It was too late.
