Chapter 04: Too Late
Sunday started better than Saturday had finished. I woke up, determined to be positive. But the day went down hill fast.
I wallowed in self-pity. I tortured myself with thoughts of Ken and Beth. Maybe I should go to Spain and take out my anger on Ken. No, that was Jean's job.
I thought 'do some cooking, Tim, you've got to eat properly, and learning to cook would be a start.' I burnt my fingers getting a casserole out of the oven. It tasted bloody awful.
It took me ages trying to get the washing machine to work on half-load. In the end I gave up and did three shirts as if they were a full load.
I went to the supermarket. I gave up on the cooking idea, only for a week or two of course, until I get adjusted, then I'll get back to it. So I bought loads of microwave meals for one. Then I felt bitterly ashamed and embarrassed as I waited to check-out. I felt everyone in the shop need only look at my trolley to know that I was a cuckolded husband.
The only bright spot was that Phil phoned in the evening. Just checking on how I was. But he was kind, and he let me talk about Beth and how much I missed her. Even in my misery, and even when talking to my best friend, with whom I should be honest, I made sure that he got no real idea of the true story of Beth and Ken from me. I didn't like that, but let her feel the shame of telling them.
I went to bed thinking that maybe that was my revenge. Making her have to be honest with everyone on what a bitch she really was. She wouldn't like that.
But she got her own back in the small hours, haunting me with images of her and that bastard.
---
Monday wasn't bad.
I was greeted at work by Dave. As soon as he came in he put his head round my door, just to make sure I was OK (or maybe checking that I was there at all).
I began to realise that I probably was way off key with everybody on Friday, but no one said anything. I guessed that Dave had said enough for everyone to at least respect my privacy. Everyone that is except Stella, Perry's secretary. She came by my desk with a pained look on her face "I'm so sorry to hear about you and Beth. We've worked together for so long, Tim, I remember you joining as a junior analyst all those years ago. So, if there's anything I can do, If you'd like to chat it over, you know, get a woman's point of view."
I think that just confirmed what I already thought of Stella. I don't like her, and I don't think I ever have. She was always patronising, and she's had real difficulty with me as I rose through the ranks, and she had to start treating me as the senior manager I was. She was also one of the hubs of the gossip mill. Well, at least I know where I stand, everyone in the building will know within an hour of Stella knowing.
I went and saw Perry about Greg Dickens of ITP. He didn't know what it was about either. Maybe Neil had mentioned my name. Apparently Neil and this Greg Dickens had met on Thursday last week. I left it with him to sort out.
I wasn't in a rush to go home that evening, there was nothing to go home for. So it was about quarter to seven when I got into my car in the car park. Just then my phone rang, I could see from the little screen that it was Beth's parents home number calling. My heart missed a beat. What was she going to say? Did I want to even answer it?
I hit the talk button, "Hello."
"Hello, Tim? This is George here."
"Yes, George?" A wave of relief came over me.
"You might like to know that your wife is here after you threw her out. Now Mary and I don't want to interfere, but I have to say, whatever is going on between you two, no decent man calls his wife all the names under the sun and throws her out in the street late at night. We thought you loved her. Mary and I even became quite fond of you. We were obviously mistaken in our judgement." And then he rang off.
I sat in my car, staring at a brick wall through the windscreen. I was stunned. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what I should do. I got out of my car and went over the road to the pub. I walked up to the bar and ordered a double whisky. Only when I had taken a healthy gulp did I sigh with a huge release of tension.
And then there was a voice behind me "Does that feel better?"
I looked round, it was Alice. "Oh hi there. I've just had an absolute stunner of a telephone call. I needed a quick reviver."
"I'd heard that it wasn't all moonlight and roses in your life. Sorry about that. Do you want to talk?" she asked.
I looked round. There were no colleagues in sight. "You in here by yourself? Or are you waiting for someone?"
"No, they just left. You came in here in such a storm that I doubt that you even saw them. I was the only one that was brave enough to wait and find out what the problem was." She smiled, and put an empty glass down on the bar.
"Sorry, do you want another one of those, whatever it was?" I remembered my manners.
"Only if you fancy talking. I don't want to pry, but I thought you might like someone to talk to."
I thought about it, but I didn't really know Alice, I liked her and got on well with her, but I didn't feel like opening up to her, or not now, maybe another time. But it did make me think I wouldn't mind talking to Phil. "Well, I'll happily buy you a drink. But I think it better that I just sort out some of these things in my own head."
"Well then, why don't you finish up your drink. Then you can give me a lift up the High Street. It'll make a change from giving me a lift down the road always."
And that's what we did. I dropped her at what is known as the Bank Corner. Apparently she had a flat around there somewhere. I went home to a miserable evening, thinking about Beth and what she is telling everybody. I didn't ring Phil.
---
Monday night was just as bad as Sunday. I woke several times to the writhing of Beth and Ken in sexual ecstasy.
Tuesday I went into work with a determination that I was going to run my life from now on. I needed to sort out whether my marriage was repairable. I doubted it, but I had come to realise that there were questions to which only Beth could give me the answers. There was a mounting piles of things that I needed to say to her. I now had a deadline of 14th July. By then we had to know whether we were going to be splitting the CD collection or not.
I sat at my desk. I didn't want to phone her. I didn't like getting calls from her, out of the blue. I wasn't sure that making them to her would be any better. I felt that actually talking to her would only emphasise the gulf between us. I was going to have to email her. I know it was cold and impersonal, but that's the way I wanted it. I composed the email,
Beth, I want to talk to you. Suggest the Red Lion, tomorrow evening at 21:00. This is not reconciliation, but it may be a tentative first step, and anyway there are things you need to know. Please confirm that you can make it. Tim
I read it and read it again, full of indecision. I had to get the words exactly right: I want to talk to you? I'd like to talk to you? We need to talk? I left it as it was and hit the send button.
I had no idea when she would receive it. She may not even be looking at her private email. But that was an advantage of email, at least I could prove I'd tried.
When I came back from lunch, there was a reply:
Dear Tim, Thank you. I'll be there. All my love, Beth
Who's she trying to kid? All her love! Maybe this week, but she couldn't say that last week!
At the end of the day I went to the pub with Dave. He had an orange juice. I was surprised until he told me he was off to the gym. "You should join, Tim. It would do you good."
"You must be joking."
"Seriously. I know that, on the very odd occasion, when some girl has withdrawn from our relationship prematurely, I .."
"You mean when one dumped you?"
"Well, yes. But I'd rather think of it as a discrepancy in our immediate life goals and development." He said with a smile. "Anyway, a good work out session really does help ease the stress and anger that all gets tied up inside." He inspected me from head to toe, "I should think that a simple, intensive daily work out for about a year should do the trick."
"I don't think it's for me. I've always felt that there is something slightly narcissistic about gyms. I've never been to one in my life." I just couldn't see myself doing it.
"Well you ought to. For a start, it's something to do in the evening, and I bet you haven't got a very full social diary at the moment. Also, if you do end up back on the market, it might help if you had a bod that ain't too repulsive to the opposite sex."
I hated to admit it, but there was something in what he said. I certainly could do with something to do in the evenings, I couldn't always go to the pub. And being a bit fitter wouldn't do any harm. And the experts did seem to think that exercise does help with stress.
"OK. I'll dig out some kit and bring it into the office. Take me with you next time you go."
"Oh, you can't just come along anymore. You have to have a full induction. To check you out and do all the health and safety routine on the machines." He finished his juice.
"Well OK, book me in for one of those."
"Good decision. It's for your own good you know. And anyway, you never know who you'll meet down there. I've been approached twice - both of them were men, but at least I was approached."
"You're losing me, again." I said, smiling.
He looked at his watch, "I must go."
We both left the pub, and I went back to my empty house and had a microwaved supper.
I tried phoning Phil and Denny's home number. There was no answer. I remembered that Tuesday night was Phil's cricket practice night. So I tried watching some television, and actually managed to watch it. In fact I watched it until past midnight, which at least sent me to bed very tired and I managed to sleep.
---
Wednesday was an average day in the office. The only thing of note was that I had a normal scheduled progress meeting with Perry in the morning. It was all very downbeat and mediocre.
Just before lunch, Rose phoned to say that they have drawn up the agreement on Blindside ready for me to sign. I went round to Symmonds & Burtons in the lunch hour. She told me that Freddy Chapman had phoned her, he wanted to emphasise that there would be no slipping on the timeframe to sign the full lease. I told Rose to tell him that I understood, and that she could tell him that I didn't want them to add any thing else to the apartment from what I'd seen. Rose said that there was no china, glass or cutlery and a hundred and one other things. I said I could bring it all from the house, and not having to spend any more money might cheer Freddy up. "Good tactic" said Rose.
I was pleased that the agreement was signed. It meant I could really give Beth a fixed timetable tonight.
I had chosen nine o'clock to meet Beth because it wouldn't be possible to get into a long conversation, and there was no hint of dining together. But it gave me an awkward period between work and meeting her. I went to the pub.
There were not many from TGI in the pub. But Alice was there. I didn't want to drink solidly for two hours, but I thought that Alice might be my saviour.
"You don't fancy a bite to eat do you?"
"Why Tim Williams! What a choice. Drinking here with this bunch of reprobates or being whisked off to a long and expensive meal in that nice Italian half way up the High Street. Well, OK then."
"No. I was hoping I could borrow you to stiffen my resolve. If you ..."
"You call it your resolve do you. Well that's a new one on me. But I guess a girl's got to do what a girl's got to do."
I gave her my best withering look, and didn't take up her flirting opener "If you want to eat Italian, I was more hoping for something like the pizza place at the bottom of the High Street. I'll promise you the real one next time. My treat."
"Well if your paying for that, then let the pizzas be on me."
As we walked along the road she asked "What's all this about then?"
I explained that I was meeting Beth, trying to take things into my hands, into my control, but I was so scared. We talked about a lot of things, not just about my marriage. I don't think I bad mouthed Beth too much, but I gave her a truthful story of what had happened. Before I knew it was quarter to nine when I glanced at my watch. Alice saw my panic and sent me off, assuring me that she really would pay, but hold me to my promise.
As I drove toward the Red Lion I could feel my stomach muscles knotting. I had thought that eating beforehand would be a good idea. Now I wasn't so sure. I was scared. Scared that I would turn to jelly when I saw her. I knew I loved her. How can you be tough, even cruel, to someone you love? But it had to be done. I had to put my cards on the table. After that it was up to her.
I also knew that I, a humble computer project manager for insurance systems, had to out spin a professional PR consultant in what was essentially a battle of words in a game of love on which my whole world depended.
When I got to the Red Lion, Beth was already there. The pub wasn't very full, and she sat at a table in a window alcove with a glass of white wine in front of her. She was dressed well, but looked pale and drawn. She saw me come in, but didn't stand to greet me. I was glad about that, I'm not sure what I would have done. Shake her hand? Kiss her? Anyway, she stayed seated as I approached.
"Hi" I said, somewhat lamely.
"Hi, I was getting worried....."
"Yes Sorry. I'm only a couple of minutes late. How are you?" I asked. I was standing, awkwardly. She remained sitting, looking up at me, awkwardly.
"OK, I guess. In the circumstances... You know..."
I suddenly thought, I had to get myself a drink, and get settled, sitting down, before we really could talk. "I see you've got yourself a glass of wine, do you want anything else?"
"No thank you." she said in a small voice, slightly rasping. Odd, I thought. Then I realised that her throat was dry and rough from too much crying. Good.
"Well, I'll get myself something." I left her and went to the bar.
I returned with a glass of red wine and sat down opposite her. She looked at me expectantly. I was shaking inside, my stomach was a tight knot. I hoped it didn't show, but I expect it did. I was determined to get through this without shouting, without losing my temper, and in total control. After that I was going to go out and run up Everest, it would be an easier challenge!
"Beth, I want to be clear and honest with you. I don't believe we can put this right. I think your betrayal of me, of us, is beyond repair. I am so angry with you for what you did. For changing my life so completely, without any reference to me. I trusted you with my very soul and you chose, of your own freewill to damage me irretrievably. I don't think I could ever trust you again."
There was a sharp in take of breath from Beth. "Oh Tim, I don't know how to show you how sorry I am. I can think of nothing else but the hurt I've caused you. I need to be given a chance to try to put it right. Please Tim. Don't make this the end. Please.."
"No. I want you to be clear of where you start from. I know I still love you, I can't stop loving you in five days. But loving you and staying married to you are two different things. Everyone tells me that I must talk to you. That I must give our marriage a chance. I would love to be able to put it right. I desperately want our old partnership back. I just don't believe it can be done. But, if you want to try, then I'll listen and talk, directly to you or with counsellors or anything you want to try."
"Oh thank you. I'll do whatever it takes."
"Well, there are some conditions." I said firmly.
"Conditions? What? I've said I'll do anything." She looked eager and hopeful.
"I'll come to those in a moment. Before that you should know that there is also a timetable. At the weekend I saw a fabulous flat that I would want to move into if we are at the end. Now I have to make up my mind and sign a lease or lose my deposit and let it go by 14th July. So we've got 'til then to decide whether its worth pressing on with reconciliation or not."
"Surely, you wouldn't write us off so soon. Why is this flat so special?"
"Well, in theory I guess there is no difference between you living with your parents and me living at the house, and me living in a flat and you living in the house. But, I know that if I move out of the house it will probably be for good. This flat is a fresh start, it is not just some rooms to camp out in while we sort things out. It's not like me going into a hotel for a few days. This would be my new home, my new life. I don't know why, but that's what it signifies to me."
"I see."
"You needed to know that there are time limits."
"Thank you." Her head dipped, in defeat.
I took a sip of wine. She took her cue from me and also took a drink. We eyed each other. She looked tired, the bags under her eyes were very pronounced. Had they been there, maybe less so, but still there before Friday. Had I not noticed that she was tired, stressed from her double life? Don't get carried away from your agenda, Tim!
"Since Friday you've done a couple of things wrong." I opened on the core of my intentions. "You've given me the worst emotional time of my life. I cry myself to sleep. I wake up in the night with nightmare images of you and Ken rutting like animals. I hate you for lying and cheating on me for three months, time after time. I tear myself up that I never noticed the stress and fear you must have lived with in that same time."
She moved to say something, but I held up my hand to stop her. "And I can't go and talk to my best friend about it all, I can't cry on his shoulder. I don't like that. I - won't - have - that." I spoke softly, quietly and determinedly. "You went to Phil and Denny for refuge, and you didn't even have the guts to tell them the truth. You led them to believe that we had been having problems for ages. That suddenly and unreasonably, I had blown up and ranted and raved and thrown you out like some wife beating husband."
She looked up at me, about to protest at my version of her truth, but I was in full flow, "Don't start with feeble excuses. It's quite simple. You are going to tell Phil and Denny the truth. Or I will. And I'm going to do it on Sunday, unless you've already done it by then. It will be far better for you if you apologise and explain yourself before I do, I might not use such kind language to explain your behaviour. But it's your choice. I am talking to Phil on Sunday, the full and whole truth will be in the open by then. Do you understand.?"
I think I shocked her by my determination. She seemed cowed. "Yes, Tim. I understand."
While I was on a roll I kept going, "And that goes for my second condition. You'll do the same with your parents."
There was a sharp intake of breath from her side of the table. "No, you can't. It will kill them..."
"Oh yes you will. They're grown ups, they can take it. They love you. They may not like to hear quite what their little ********'s been up to, but they'll take it. And you will tell them. I don't take kindly to your father phoning me up, out of the blue, to tell me what a cad I am, and how cruelly I've treated his ********."
I think that last bit genuinely surprised her. "I'm sorry. I didn't know he had done that. They promised me they wouldn't interfere."
"Well he did. And I'm glad he did. It just showed how you like to present things your way. And I'm not having that. If you want to even have a first attempt at trying to put this marriage together, then the truth, the whole truth will be out there for us all to consider and work with."
"I understand." she said meekly. But I wasn't convinced that she had really taken onboard how determined I was about all of this.
I took another sip of wine, I found that doing that calmed me down. It brought me back to being in control of myself, otherwise I think I might have gone on with the sentiment of the moment to say too much.
Now I could continue, "That leads me to my third condition. I now realise just how you misled me and others to let us believe the story you want us to believe. I accept that, in your terms, you've never lied to me. But you've never told me the truth either if it didn't suit you."
She looked at me questioningly. I guess she didn't like the theme of what I was saying, but it was about her and in held her interest.
I went on, "I guess when I wanted to know what had happened last Thursday afternoon, with clever words you led me well away from the truth. I don't want you to explain yourself now, although I might in the future. What I want you to think about is that I want a written, yes written, pledge from you that there will be no secrets between us. If I ask a question, your job is not to work out how you can satisfy me with some answer that presents the version you want me to believe, but you will do your very best to make sure I get all the relevant facts and thoughts that surround the subject of my question. Now do you understand that?"
"I understand, but I think it's a mistake." she answered.
"Why?"
"Well our marriage is not a formal negotiation. It shouldn't have to be in writing. That's wrong." she pleaded.
I took another sip of wine. "No, Beth. It is precisely what it is about. Don't you see, I don't trust you anymore. Not only don't I trust you not to cheat on me, but I can't even trust that you tell me the truth when I ask. I need to know that you will always tell me the truth. And so that I can be convinced, I want to see your words in writing. Then there can be no careful changes of tense, no clever 'mays' instead of 'wills', no sneaked in 'possibles' or probablys'. I won't hear what I want to hear, I will see what you mean to say. And if it's good enough, then we can go on"
She was sipping her wine as I finished this, possibly to cover up her feelings when she realised that I had seen through some of her games, or at least that's what I liked to think. But she put her glass down and looked at me, "Surely you're not going to make me write everything down? We can't live like that."
"Well I don't intend to. But it's not a bad idea. I might well ask you to write down some of your answers if I think a question is critical enough."
"Oh."
We both sipped our wine. I finished mine.
"So there we are. Beth. Three jobs for you. And I mean it. I will not meet you again, I will not try to put this marriage back together unless you do all three. And even then there are no promises. And you know that you've got to show real progress by July 14th or it'll all be over. Just like three month's ago, the future of our marriage is in your hands." I just couldn't resist rubbing a little salt into the wound.
She sat quietly. She finished her wine. I asked her if she wanted another. She looked at me questioningly, wondering if there was any point or was our meeting over. I said I was having one, which seemed to please her, and she said she would too. I went off to the bar. When I got back, she had composed herself. She was sitting up, looking more alert.
I sat down and we both took sips of our drinks, looking at each other. Just looking at her began to get to me. I had damn good taste ten years ago when I spotted her as a fresher at university. I was feeling brighter, almost happy. I had got to the end of my agenda without mishap.
She was the one that broke the silence "I've been thinking about what you've said, and I think I want to understand some things. But before I talk about that, I want you to understand something. I want you to know that the affair between my self and Ken had nothing to do...."
"No, Beth. I'm not going to talk about you and Ken tonight. As I've already said, I will not start reconciling, or trying to understand what made you do it, or what you did or anything else until you've done as I ask."
"You've had your say this evening. Now it's my turn. I need to tell you...."
"Well hard luck. I told you NOT NOW. Please don't make me walk out." I think the threat of me making a scene was enough to stop her in her tracks. I calmly sipped my wine, waiting to see what she would do now, conscious that I was desperate to know about her and Ken, in every minute detail. But that had to wait.
She glared at me, but, eventually, she too sipped her wine.
She obviously decided on another tack, "You said that you might want me to explain what happened last Thursday. Don't you think it better, more positive if we move forward. Nothings gained by going over old mistakes. I want a new future with you, Tim. I know I've failed in the past. But what's the point of dragging all that up. Let's work to building a new future."
We've all heard the politicos and government officials who squirm out of their cock-ups by 'looking to the future' 'no purpose in pointing the finger for mistakes made in the past' 'time to move on' 'let's look to the new horizon' Crap. Not in my bloody marriage. Or not anymore anyway.
"No, Beth. That's precisely what reconciliation is about. To help us face up to the mistakes in the past. Face the unpleasant truths. And then build a new future. There will be no cover ups. No glossing over things."
She looked down. I don't think she liked that very much.
I went on "You have to be prepared to answer fully and truthfully any question I may ask. If I want to know the colour of Ken's underpants on a Wednesday in April, you will do your very best to tell me. If I want to know whether his third pubic hair from the right has gone grey or not, you will tell me."
I looked at her, I think she was liking this bit even less, so I relented a little "I don't think I really want to know the details of what you got up to, not the anatomical details anyway. Unless he's a genetic mutation I guess it was pretty much standard variations on a pretty standard theme - which I think I know. But don't kid yourself, I will ask painful questions, and you will be expected to answer them - in full."
She obviously wasn't very happy. I guess it hadn't been a good evening for her. She came along, hopeful that this was the start of putting Ken behind us, and she had seen a very determined Tim who would only do that on his own terms. It wasn't going to be an easy journey for her.
I took a sip of wine, and then tried cheering her up, "I don't know whether it will help or not, but I've found that a wife of a guy at work was a marriage guidance counsellor. She's ever so nice, but I think she's a bit of a maverick and she doesn't do it professionally anymore. She wouldn't be one of those totally neutral people. If one of us was wrong about something, I think she would tell us. You should meet her. Anyway it is just an idea."
"Oh, Tim. This isn't how it was meant to be. I know I was wrong. I know I've hurt you terribly. But, putting conditions on actually talking to me; hurting my parents and shaming me in their eyes; declaring that you don't think we stand a chance of getting over this; bringing in counsellors; insisting that we talk about things that we both know are going to be dreadfully painful; we don't stand a chance, do we? You seem determined to divorce me."
"No, that's not true. I loved you with all my heart. I'd like to find a way of going on loving you. But my mind tells me that it is fairly unlikely. That's all. I'm trying to be honest, Beth. I'm trying to find a route out of the mess you created. Look, you want to get back together, don't you?"
"Yes. More than anything I've ever wanted in my life."
"Do you think we could get over this?"
"I know I could. I thought you loved me enough that you could."
"Well then, there you are. Your heart wants to get over it. Your head says that we can get over it. My heart wants to get over it. It's only my mind that really has doubts. So that's three against one. That's not bad odds, is it?" I was rather pleased with myself for this one. Maybe I could spin the spinner.
"Yes. I think I've got a lot of thinking to do."
We drank our glasses dry and stood up in unison. We both knew the evening was over. In the car park I walked her to her car, she unlocked it and then turned to face me. She looked so nervous. My heart melted, and then that little voice said 'don't blow it at this final hurdle, Tim'. I leant in and gave her a small kiss on the cheek. The sort of kiss that ****** give each other. Not a lover's kiss. I quickly turned and went to my car.
---
After meeting Beth that Wednesday night, trying to sleep was different. I went to bed excited. I had taken my future into my own hands. I had laid down my terms. I was pleased with myself. But I couldn't sleep because I kept trying to guess what she was going to do.
Thursday morning I dug out some gym kit and put it into a bag and stowed it in the back of the car. It was good timing. Dave told me that he had made an appointment for me on Saturday morning. I asked if he was going to be there. He didn't think so.
Not a lot happened at work. Stella was a bit sullen with me, but that wasn't a problem. Charlie asked me to lunch, a sandwich and juice in his office. He was just checking how I was, and with his director's hat on, how I was working. I told him that I'd given Beth some ultimatums, and that I was feeling pretty good in general and I was working well. But I admitted that sleeping was a problem.
I went home and phoned my parents. I told them about Beth. They were full of sympathy, but really had nothing new to say. What could they say? Mum suggested that I should go out to stay with them for a bit of a break. I didn't fancy that, but I made vague promises about seeing them soon.
Thursday night was back to the old routine. Ken and Beth in full congress. But, maybe, slightly less hurtfully than before.
Friday was a bit like Thursday. Not a lot happening. The only thing that happened at work was that Perry called me into his office to tell me that ITP were getting really awkward, and that he thought he might have to reallocate resources. He would think about it over the weekend and see me on Monday. Oh Great! At this worst possible period in my life, I'm going to have to chase around smoothing people's egos after one of Perry's notorious department reorganisations. Just what I didn't need!
Just after I got home on Friday evening, Phil phoned,
"Tim, you don't fancy a drink, do you?"
"Always. Do you mean this evening? Its just that I thought Friday evening was your shopping evening."
"Well it usually is, but Denny's going out with Beth for a drink and a meal. So I thought of you at home. I thought it was about time we caught up."
"Who's idea was that?"
"What? Denny and Beth going out? I think Beth suggested it. Why?"
"No, not that, you and I going out for a drink?"
"Well it was sort of Denny and myself. She didn't want you floating around the town centre if she was there with Beth. No embarrassing scenes, if you know what I mean. So I promised that I'd lure you to the pub, I normally find that quite an easy thing to do."
"Well can I take a rain check on it? I know that's unusual, but I've just got in and this place is a tip. I've sort of promised myself that I should do a week's worth of dirty dishes, loads of laundry and all that sort of thing. A drink would be tempting, but I think I've got to start getting my domestic act together. How about a drink on Sunday morning if you're around?"
"Well, that's possible. But come on, Tim, don't you fancy one tonight?"
"Phil, I promise, I am not going down to the town centre to shadow Beth and Denny, and certainly not to interfere with them in any way. I won't phone them. I won't leave home. You can come round here and keep an eye on me while you wash the kitchen floor, and have a beer from the fridge I you want. How does that sound?"
"I'll see you Sunday morning. What time?"
"I'll call you."
I didn't want a stilted meeting with Phil, not being able to talk about the truth. And I certainly didn't want to interfere with Beth and Denny. I just hoped that Beth was doing what I asked, and telling Denny the truth before it was too late.
To be continued...
Sunday started better than Saturday had finished. I woke up, determined to be positive. But the day went down hill fast.
I wallowed in self-pity. I tortured myself with thoughts of Ken and Beth. Maybe I should go to Spain and take out my anger on Ken. No, that was Jean's job.
I thought 'do some cooking, Tim, you've got to eat properly, and learning to cook would be a start.' I burnt my fingers getting a casserole out of the oven. It tasted bloody awful.
It took me ages trying to get the washing machine to work on half-load. In the end I gave up and did three shirts as if they were a full load.
I went to the supermarket. I gave up on the cooking idea, only for a week or two of course, until I get adjusted, then I'll get back to it. So I bought loads of microwave meals for one. Then I felt bitterly ashamed and embarrassed as I waited to check-out. I felt everyone in the shop need only look at my trolley to know that I was a cuckolded husband.
The only bright spot was that Phil phoned in the evening. Just checking on how I was. But he was kind, and he let me talk about Beth and how much I missed her. Even in my misery, and even when talking to my best friend, with whom I should be honest, I made sure that he got no real idea of the true story of Beth and Ken from me. I didn't like that, but let her feel the shame of telling them.
I went to bed thinking that maybe that was my revenge. Making her have to be honest with everyone on what a bitch she really was. She wouldn't like that.
But she got her own back in the small hours, haunting me with images of her and that bastard.
---
Monday wasn't bad.
I was greeted at work by Dave. As soon as he came in he put his head round my door, just to make sure I was OK (or maybe checking that I was there at all).
I began to realise that I probably was way off key with everybody on Friday, but no one said anything. I guessed that Dave had said enough for everyone to at least respect my privacy. Everyone that is except Stella, Perry's secretary. She came by my desk with a pained look on her face "I'm so sorry to hear about you and Beth. We've worked together for so long, Tim, I remember you joining as a junior analyst all those years ago. So, if there's anything I can do, If you'd like to chat it over, you know, get a woman's point of view."
I think that just confirmed what I already thought of Stella. I don't like her, and I don't think I ever have. She was always patronising, and she's had real difficulty with me as I rose through the ranks, and she had to start treating me as the senior manager I was. She was also one of the hubs of the gossip mill. Well, at least I know where I stand, everyone in the building will know within an hour of Stella knowing.
I went and saw Perry about Greg Dickens of ITP. He didn't know what it was about either. Maybe Neil had mentioned my name. Apparently Neil and this Greg Dickens had met on Thursday last week. I left it with him to sort out.
I wasn't in a rush to go home that evening, there was nothing to go home for. So it was about quarter to seven when I got into my car in the car park. Just then my phone rang, I could see from the little screen that it was Beth's parents home number calling. My heart missed a beat. What was she going to say? Did I want to even answer it?
I hit the talk button, "Hello."
"Hello, Tim? This is George here."
"Yes, George?" A wave of relief came over me.
"You might like to know that your wife is here after you threw her out. Now Mary and I don't want to interfere, but I have to say, whatever is going on between you two, no decent man calls his wife all the names under the sun and throws her out in the street late at night. We thought you loved her. Mary and I even became quite fond of you. We were obviously mistaken in our judgement." And then he rang off.
I sat in my car, staring at a brick wall through the windscreen. I was stunned. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what I should do. I got out of my car and went over the road to the pub. I walked up to the bar and ordered a double whisky. Only when I had taken a healthy gulp did I sigh with a huge release of tension.
And then there was a voice behind me "Does that feel better?"
I looked round, it was Alice. "Oh hi there. I've just had an absolute stunner of a telephone call. I needed a quick reviver."
"I'd heard that it wasn't all moonlight and roses in your life. Sorry about that. Do you want to talk?" she asked.
I looked round. There were no colleagues in sight. "You in here by yourself? Or are you waiting for someone?"
"No, they just left. You came in here in such a storm that I doubt that you even saw them. I was the only one that was brave enough to wait and find out what the problem was." She smiled, and put an empty glass down on the bar.
"Sorry, do you want another one of those, whatever it was?" I remembered my manners.
"Only if you fancy talking. I don't want to pry, but I thought you might like someone to talk to."
I thought about it, but I didn't really know Alice, I liked her and got on well with her, but I didn't feel like opening up to her, or not now, maybe another time. But it did make me think I wouldn't mind talking to Phil. "Well, I'll happily buy you a drink. But I think it better that I just sort out some of these things in my own head."
"Well then, why don't you finish up your drink. Then you can give me a lift up the High Street. It'll make a change from giving me a lift down the road always."
And that's what we did. I dropped her at what is known as the Bank Corner. Apparently she had a flat around there somewhere. I went home to a miserable evening, thinking about Beth and what she is telling everybody. I didn't ring Phil.
---
Monday night was just as bad as Sunday. I woke several times to the writhing of Beth and Ken in sexual ecstasy.
Tuesday I went into work with a determination that I was going to run my life from now on. I needed to sort out whether my marriage was repairable. I doubted it, but I had come to realise that there were questions to which only Beth could give me the answers. There was a mounting piles of things that I needed to say to her. I now had a deadline of 14th July. By then we had to know whether we were going to be splitting the CD collection or not.
I sat at my desk. I didn't want to phone her. I didn't like getting calls from her, out of the blue. I wasn't sure that making them to her would be any better. I felt that actually talking to her would only emphasise the gulf between us. I was going to have to email her. I know it was cold and impersonal, but that's the way I wanted it. I composed the email,
Beth, I want to talk to you. Suggest the Red Lion, tomorrow evening at 21:00. This is not reconciliation, but it may be a tentative first step, and anyway there are things you need to know. Please confirm that you can make it. Tim
I read it and read it again, full of indecision. I had to get the words exactly right: I want to talk to you? I'd like to talk to you? We need to talk? I left it as it was and hit the send button.
I had no idea when she would receive it. She may not even be looking at her private email. But that was an advantage of email, at least I could prove I'd tried.
When I came back from lunch, there was a reply:
Dear Tim, Thank you. I'll be there. All my love, Beth
Who's she trying to kid? All her love! Maybe this week, but she couldn't say that last week!
At the end of the day I went to the pub with Dave. He had an orange juice. I was surprised until he told me he was off to the gym. "You should join, Tim. It would do you good."
"You must be joking."
"Seriously. I know that, on the very odd occasion, when some girl has withdrawn from our relationship prematurely, I .."
"You mean when one dumped you?"
"Well, yes. But I'd rather think of it as a discrepancy in our immediate life goals and development." He said with a smile. "Anyway, a good work out session really does help ease the stress and anger that all gets tied up inside." He inspected me from head to toe, "I should think that a simple, intensive daily work out for about a year should do the trick."
"I don't think it's for me. I've always felt that there is something slightly narcissistic about gyms. I've never been to one in my life." I just couldn't see myself doing it.
"Well you ought to. For a start, it's something to do in the evening, and I bet you haven't got a very full social diary at the moment. Also, if you do end up back on the market, it might help if you had a bod that ain't too repulsive to the opposite sex."
I hated to admit it, but there was something in what he said. I certainly could do with something to do in the evenings, I couldn't always go to the pub. And being a bit fitter wouldn't do any harm. And the experts did seem to think that exercise does help with stress.
"OK. I'll dig out some kit and bring it into the office. Take me with you next time you go."
"Oh, you can't just come along anymore. You have to have a full induction. To check you out and do all the health and safety routine on the machines." He finished his juice.
"Well OK, book me in for one of those."
"Good decision. It's for your own good you know. And anyway, you never know who you'll meet down there. I've been approached twice - both of them were men, but at least I was approached."
"You're losing me, again." I said, smiling.
He looked at his watch, "I must go."
We both left the pub, and I went back to my empty house and had a microwaved supper.
I tried phoning Phil and Denny's home number. There was no answer. I remembered that Tuesday night was Phil's cricket practice night. So I tried watching some television, and actually managed to watch it. In fact I watched it until past midnight, which at least sent me to bed very tired and I managed to sleep.
---
Wednesday was an average day in the office. The only thing of note was that I had a normal scheduled progress meeting with Perry in the morning. It was all very downbeat and mediocre.
Just before lunch, Rose phoned to say that they have drawn up the agreement on Blindside ready for me to sign. I went round to Symmonds & Burtons in the lunch hour. She told me that Freddy Chapman had phoned her, he wanted to emphasise that there would be no slipping on the timeframe to sign the full lease. I told Rose to tell him that I understood, and that she could tell him that I didn't want them to add any thing else to the apartment from what I'd seen. Rose said that there was no china, glass or cutlery and a hundred and one other things. I said I could bring it all from the house, and not having to spend any more money might cheer Freddy up. "Good tactic" said Rose.
I was pleased that the agreement was signed. It meant I could really give Beth a fixed timetable tonight.
I had chosen nine o'clock to meet Beth because it wouldn't be possible to get into a long conversation, and there was no hint of dining together. But it gave me an awkward period between work and meeting her. I went to the pub.
There were not many from TGI in the pub. But Alice was there. I didn't want to drink solidly for two hours, but I thought that Alice might be my saviour.
"You don't fancy a bite to eat do you?"
"Why Tim Williams! What a choice. Drinking here with this bunch of reprobates or being whisked off to a long and expensive meal in that nice Italian half way up the High Street. Well, OK then."
"No. I was hoping I could borrow you to stiffen my resolve. If you ..."
"You call it your resolve do you. Well that's a new one on me. But I guess a girl's got to do what a girl's got to do."
I gave her my best withering look, and didn't take up her flirting opener "If you want to eat Italian, I was more hoping for something like the pizza place at the bottom of the High Street. I'll promise you the real one next time. My treat."
"Well if your paying for that, then let the pizzas be on me."
As we walked along the road she asked "What's all this about then?"
I explained that I was meeting Beth, trying to take things into my hands, into my control, but I was so scared. We talked about a lot of things, not just about my marriage. I don't think I bad mouthed Beth too much, but I gave her a truthful story of what had happened. Before I knew it was quarter to nine when I glanced at my watch. Alice saw my panic and sent me off, assuring me that she really would pay, but hold me to my promise.
As I drove toward the Red Lion I could feel my stomach muscles knotting. I had thought that eating beforehand would be a good idea. Now I wasn't so sure. I was scared. Scared that I would turn to jelly when I saw her. I knew I loved her. How can you be tough, even cruel, to someone you love? But it had to be done. I had to put my cards on the table. After that it was up to her.
I also knew that I, a humble computer project manager for insurance systems, had to out spin a professional PR consultant in what was essentially a battle of words in a game of love on which my whole world depended.
When I got to the Red Lion, Beth was already there. The pub wasn't very full, and she sat at a table in a window alcove with a glass of white wine in front of her. She was dressed well, but looked pale and drawn. She saw me come in, but didn't stand to greet me. I was glad about that, I'm not sure what I would have done. Shake her hand? Kiss her? Anyway, she stayed seated as I approached.
"Hi" I said, somewhat lamely.
"Hi, I was getting worried....."
"Yes Sorry. I'm only a couple of minutes late. How are you?" I asked. I was standing, awkwardly. She remained sitting, looking up at me, awkwardly.
"OK, I guess. In the circumstances... You know..."
I suddenly thought, I had to get myself a drink, and get settled, sitting down, before we really could talk. "I see you've got yourself a glass of wine, do you want anything else?"
"No thank you." she said in a small voice, slightly rasping. Odd, I thought. Then I realised that her throat was dry and rough from too much crying. Good.
"Well, I'll get myself something." I left her and went to the bar.
I returned with a glass of red wine and sat down opposite her. She looked at me expectantly. I was shaking inside, my stomach was a tight knot. I hoped it didn't show, but I expect it did. I was determined to get through this without shouting, without losing my temper, and in total control. After that I was going to go out and run up Everest, it would be an easier challenge!
"Beth, I want to be clear and honest with you. I don't believe we can put this right. I think your betrayal of me, of us, is beyond repair. I am so angry with you for what you did. For changing my life so completely, without any reference to me. I trusted you with my very soul and you chose, of your own freewill to damage me irretrievably. I don't think I could ever trust you again."
There was a sharp in take of breath from Beth. "Oh Tim, I don't know how to show you how sorry I am. I can think of nothing else but the hurt I've caused you. I need to be given a chance to try to put it right. Please Tim. Don't make this the end. Please.."
"No. I want you to be clear of where you start from. I know I still love you, I can't stop loving you in five days. But loving you and staying married to you are two different things. Everyone tells me that I must talk to you. That I must give our marriage a chance. I would love to be able to put it right. I desperately want our old partnership back. I just don't believe it can be done. But, if you want to try, then I'll listen and talk, directly to you or with counsellors or anything you want to try."
"Oh thank you. I'll do whatever it takes."
"Well, there are some conditions." I said firmly.
"Conditions? What? I've said I'll do anything." She looked eager and hopeful.
"I'll come to those in a moment. Before that you should know that there is also a timetable. At the weekend I saw a fabulous flat that I would want to move into if we are at the end. Now I have to make up my mind and sign a lease or lose my deposit and let it go by 14th July. So we've got 'til then to decide whether its worth pressing on with reconciliation or not."
"Surely, you wouldn't write us off so soon. Why is this flat so special?"
"Well, in theory I guess there is no difference between you living with your parents and me living at the house, and me living in a flat and you living in the house. But, I know that if I move out of the house it will probably be for good. This flat is a fresh start, it is not just some rooms to camp out in while we sort things out. It's not like me going into a hotel for a few days. This would be my new home, my new life. I don't know why, but that's what it signifies to me."
"I see."
"You needed to know that there are time limits."
"Thank you." Her head dipped, in defeat.
I took a sip of wine. She took her cue from me and also took a drink. We eyed each other. She looked tired, the bags under her eyes were very pronounced. Had they been there, maybe less so, but still there before Friday. Had I not noticed that she was tired, stressed from her double life? Don't get carried away from your agenda, Tim!
"Since Friday you've done a couple of things wrong." I opened on the core of my intentions. "You've given me the worst emotional time of my life. I cry myself to sleep. I wake up in the night with nightmare images of you and Ken rutting like animals. I hate you for lying and cheating on me for three months, time after time. I tear myself up that I never noticed the stress and fear you must have lived with in that same time."
She moved to say something, but I held up my hand to stop her. "And I can't go and talk to my best friend about it all, I can't cry on his shoulder. I don't like that. I - won't - have - that." I spoke softly, quietly and determinedly. "You went to Phil and Denny for refuge, and you didn't even have the guts to tell them the truth. You led them to believe that we had been having problems for ages. That suddenly and unreasonably, I had blown up and ranted and raved and thrown you out like some wife beating husband."
She looked up at me, about to protest at my version of her truth, but I was in full flow, "Don't start with feeble excuses. It's quite simple. You are going to tell Phil and Denny the truth. Or I will. And I'm going to do it on Sunday, unless you've already done it by then. It will be far better for you if you apologise and explain yourself before I do, I might not use such kind language to explain your behaviour. But it's your choice. I am talking to Phil on Sunday, the full and whole truth will be in the open by then. Do you understand.?"
I think I shocked her by my determination. She seemed cowed. "Yes, Tim. I understand."
While I was on a roll I kept going, "And that goes for my second condition. You'll do the same with your parents."
There was a sharp intake of breath from her side of the table. "No, you can't. It will kill them..."
"Oh yes you will. They're grown ups, they can take it. They love you. They may not like to hear quite what their little ********'s been up to, but they'll take it. And you will tell them. I don't take kindly to your father phoning me up, out of the blue, to tell me what a cad I am, and how cruelly I've treated his ********."
I think that last bit genuinely surprised her. "I'm sorry. I didn't know he had done that. They promised me they wouldn't interfere."
"Well he did. And I'm glad he did. It just showed how you like to present things your way. And I'm not having that. If you want to even have a first attempt at trying to put this marriage together, then the truth, the whole truth will be out there for us all to consider and work with."
"I understand." she said meekly. But I wasn't convinced that she had really taken onboard how determined I was about all of this.
I took another sip of wine, I found that doing that calmed me down. It brought me back to being in control of myself, otherwise I think I might have gone on with the sentiment of the moment to say too much.
Now I could continue, "That leads me to my third condition. I now realise just how you misled me and others to let us believe the story you want us to believe. I accept that, in your terms, you've never lied to me. But you've never told me the truth either if it didn't suit you."
She looked at me questioningly. I guess she didn't like the theme of what I was saying, but it was about her and in held her interest.
I went on, "I guess when I wanted to know what had happened last Thursday afternoon, with clever words you led me well away from the truth. I don't want you to explain yourself now, although I might in the future. What I want you to think about is that I want a written, yes written, pledge from you that there will be no secrets between us. If I ask a question, your job is not to work out how you can satisfy me with some answer that presents the version you want me to believe, but you will do your very best to make sure I get all the relevant facts and thoughts that surround the subject of my question. Now do you understand that?"
"I understand, but I think it's a mistake." she answered.
"Why?"
"Well our marriage is not a formal negotiation. It shouldn't have to be in writing. That's wrong." she pleaded.
I took another sip of wine. "No, Beth. It is precisely what it is about. Don't you see, I don't trust you anymore. Not only don't I trust you not to cheat on me, but I can't even trust that you tell me the truth when I ask. I need to know that you will always tell me the truth. And so that I can be convinced, I want to see your words in writing. Then there can be no careful changes of tense, no clever 'mays' instead of 'wills', no sneaked in 'possibles' or probablys'. I won't hear what I want to hear, I will see what you mean to say. And if it's good enough, then we can go on"
She was sipping her wine as I finished this, possibly to cover up her feelings when she realised that I had seen through some of her games, or at least that's what I liked to think. But she put her glass down and looked at me, "Surely you're not going to make me write everything down? We can't live like that."
"Well I don't intend to. But it's not a bad idea. I might well ask you to write down some of your answers if I think a question is critical enough."
"Oh."
We both sipped our wine. I finished mine.
"So there we are. Beth. Three jobs for you. And I mean it. I will not meet you again, I will not try to put this marriage back together unless you do all three. And even then there are no promises. And you know that you've got to show real progress by July 14th or it'll all be over. Just like three month's ago, the future of our marriage is in your hands." I just couldn't resist rubbing a little salt into the wound.
She sat quietly. She finished her wine. I asked her if she wanted another. She looked at me questioningly, wondering if there was any point or was our meeting over. I said I was having one, which seemed to please her, and she said she would too. I went off to the bar. When I got back, she had composed herself. She was sitting up, looking more alert.
I sat down and we both took sips of our drinks, looking at each other. Just looking at her began to get to me. I had damn good taste ten years ago when I spotted her as a fresher at university. I was feeling brighter, almost happy. I had got to the end of my agenda without mishap.
She was the one that broke the silence "I've been thinking about what you've said, and I think I want to understand some things. But before I talk about that, I want you to understand something. I want you to know that the affair between my self and Ken had nothing to do...."
"No, Beth. I'm not going to talk about you and Ken tonight. As I've already said, I will not start reconciling, or trying to understand what made you do it, or what you did or anything else until you've done as I ask."
"You've had your say this evening. Now it's my turn. I need to tell you...."
"Well hard luck. I told you NOT NOW. Please don't make me walk out." I think the threat of me making a scene was enough to stop her in her tracks. I calmly sipped my wine, waiting to see what she would do now, conscious that I was desperate to know about her and Ken, in every minute detail. But that had to wait.
She glared at me, but, eventually, she too sipped her wine.
She obviously decided on another tack, "You said that you might want me to explain what happened last Thursday. Don't you think it better, more positive if we move forward. Nothings gained by going over old mistakes. I want a new future with you, Tim. I know I've failed in the past. But what's the point of dragging all that up. Let's work to building a new future."
We've all heard the politicos and government officials who squirm out of their cock-ups by 'looking to the future' 'no purpose in pointing the finger for mistakes made in the past' 'time to move on' 'let's look to the new horizon' Crap. Not in my bloody marriage. Or not anymore anyway.
"No, Beth. That's precisely what reconciliation is about. To help us face up to the mistakes in the past. Face the unpleasant truths. And then build a new future. There will be no cover ups. No glossing over things."
She looked down. I don't think she liked that very much.
I went on "You have to be prepared to answer fully and truthfully any question I may ask. If I want to know the colour of Ken's underpants on a Wednesday in April, you will do your very best to tell me. If I want to know whether his third pubic hair from the right has gone grey or not, you will tell me."
I looked at her, I think she was liking this bit even less, so I relented a little "I don't think I really want to know the details of what you got up to, not the anatomical details anyway. Unless he's a genetic mutation I guess it was pretty much standard variations on a pretty standard theme - which I think I know. But don't kid yourself, I will ask painful questions, and you will be expected to answer them - in full."
She obviously wasn't very happy. I guess it hadn't been a good evening for her. She came along, hopeful that this was the start of putting Ken behind us, and she had seen a very determined Tim who would only do that on his own terms. It wasn't going to be an easy journey for her.
I took a sip of wine, and then tried cheering her up, "I don't know whether it will help or not, but I've found that a wife of a guy at work was a marriage guidance counsellor. She's ever so nice, but I think she's a bit of a maverick and she doesn't do it professionally anymore. She wouldn't be one of those totally neutral people. If one of us was wrong about something, I think she would tell us. You should meet her. Anyway it is just an idea."
"Oh, Tim. This isn't how it was meant to be. I know I was wrong. I know I've hurt you terribly. But, putting conditions on actually talking to me; hurting my parents and shaming me in their eyes; declaring that you don't think we stand a chance of getting over this; bringing in counsellors; insisting that we talk about things that we both know are going to be dreadfully painful; we don't stand a chance, do we? You seem determined to divorce me."
"No, that's not true. I loved you with all my heart. I'd like to find a way of going on loving you. But my mind tells me that it is fairly unlikely. That's all. I'm trying to be honest, Beth. I'm trying to find a route out of the mess you created. Look, you want to get back together, don't you?"
"Yes. More than anything I've ever wanted in my life."
"Do you think we could get over this?"
"I know I could. I thought you loved me enough that you could."
"Well then, there you are. Your heart wants to get over it. Your head says that we can get over it. My heart wants to get over it. It's only my mind that really has doubts. So that's three against one. That's not bad odds, is it?" I was rather pleased with myself for this one. Maybe I could spin the spinner.
"Yes. I think I've got a lot of thinking to do."
We drank our glasses dry and stood up in unison. We both knew the evening was over. In the car park I walked her to her car, she unlocked it and then turned to face me. She looked so nervous. My heart melted, and then that little voice said 'don't blow it at this final hurdle, Tim'. I leant in and gave her a small kiss on the cheek. The sort of kiss that ****** give each other. Not a lover's kiss. I quickly turned and went to my car.
---
After meeting Beth that Wednesday night, trying to sleep was different. I went to bed excited. I had taken my future into my own hands. I had laid down my terms. I was pleased with myself. But I couldn't sleep because I kept trying to guess what she was going to do.
Thursday morning I dug out some gym kit and put it into a bag and stowed it in the back of the car. It was good timing. Dave told me that he had made an appointment for me on Saturday morning. I asked if he was going to be there. He didn't think so.
Not a lot happened at work. Stella was a bit sullen with me, but that wasn't a problem. Charlie asked me to lunch, a sandwich and juice in his office. He was just checking how I was, and with his director's hat on, how I was working. I told him that I'd given Beth some ultimatums, and that I was feeling pretty good in general and I was working well. But I admitted that sleeping was a problem.
I went home and phoned my parents. I told them about Beth. They were full of sympathy, but really had nothing new to say. What could they say? Mum suggested that I should go out to stay with them for a bit of a break. I didn't fancy that, but I made vague promises about seeing them soon.
Thursday night was back to the old routine. Ken and Beth in full congress. But, maybe, slightly less hurtfully than before.
Friday was a bit like Thursday. Not a lot happening. The only thing that happened at work was that Perry called me into his office to tell me that ITP were getting really awkward, and that he thought he might have to reallocate resources. He would think about it over the weekend and see me on Monday. Oh Great! At this worst possible period in my life, I'm going to have to chase around smoothing people's egos after one of Perry's notorious department reorganisations. Just what I didn't need!
Just after I got home on Friday evening, Phil phoned,
"Tim, you don't fancy a drink, do you?"
"Always. Do you mean this evening? Its just that I thought Friday evening was your shopping evening."
"Well it usually is, but Denny's going out with Beth for a drink and a meal. So I thought of you at home. I thought it was about time we caught up."
"Who's idea was that?"
"What? Denny and Beth going out? I think Beth suggested it. Why?"
"No, not that, you and I going out for a drink?"
"Well it was sort of Denny and myself. She didn't want you floating around the town centre if she was there with Beth. No embarrassing scenes, if you know what I mean. So I promised that I'd lure you to the pub, I normally find that quite an easy thing to do."
"Well can I take a rain check on it? I know that's unusual, but I've just got in and this place is a tip. I've sort of promised myself that I should do a week's worth of dirty dishes, loads of laundry and all that sort of thing. A drink would be tempting, but I think I've got to start getting my domestic act together. How about a drink on Sunday morning if you're around?"
"Well, that's possible. But come on, Tim, don't you fancy one tonight?"
"Phil, I promise, I am not going down to the town centre to shadow Beth and Denny, and certainly not to interfere with them in any way. I won't phone them. I won't leave home. You can come round here and keep an eye on me while you wash the kitchen floor, and have a beer from the fridge I you want. How does that sound?"
"I'll see you Sunday morning. What time?"
"I'll call you."
I didn't want a stilted meeting with Phil, not being able to talk about the truth. And I certainly didn't want to interfere with Beth and Denny. I just hoped that Beth was doing what I asked, and telling Denny the truth before it was too late.
To be continued...
