Back to Bristol Ch. 17

I left Molly at about ten o'clock on that Friday, but I was back before eight the next morning. I knew she was scared that Susan would make more trouble, or that Peter would start something now that Susan had failed. So, we hung around together, and I began to realise how comfortable we had become with each other. I guessed we were beginning to get near to what I had wanted and hoped for, that we could become good friends. I'd just finished watering Ralph's tomatoes and wandered back into the kitchen. Molly was leaning against the wall alongside the kitchen telephone, ashen faced. She looked at me, "It was her." "Susan? What happened? What did she say." "I was just putting the breakfast things into the dishwasher, and the phone rang. I picked it up without thinking. I answered with the number as I usually do, and she then said: Molly, I want you to know that I was extremely hurt with what you said last night..... And I put the phone down. I don't know what else she was going to say." "You did exactly the right thing. Putting the phone down on her will get the message across that you meant it. Don't answer her if she calls." I put my arm around her and gave her a hug. "Come on, let's have a cup of coffee." We were just sitting in the kitchen, drinking our coffee and conjecturing as to what Susan's next move would be, when my phone started to vibrate in my pocket. I looked at it, it was Carole calling me. "Hi, Carole, There's nothing wrong, I hope." "Not at this end. But I was worried how things turned out last night." "About as expected, I guess you'd say. Molly met with her mother and told her where to get off." "Poor Molly, having to disown her own mother. It must be awful for her. But she did the right thing. Tell her that from me, please." "You can tell her yourself, if you like. She's sitting right opposite me." I looked up at Molly, "It's Carole; she'd like a word." And I passed the phone across. Having said a tentative Hello, Molly was mainly quiet, just listening, with the occasional 'Yes' or 'It was' and a lot of 'Thank you's' until she eventually passed the phone back to me. "It's me again, Carole." "You know I believe shit happens. But no one deserves the amount of shit that's happening in Molly's life. You be kind to her, Chris. Otherwise you'll never forgive yourself." "I'm trying." "And I know that sometimes it isn't easy. You're in my prayers. Now I'll let you get on, and I'll see you on Monday." I looked at Molly, "Carole is a nice lady; she's a sort of extra mum to me." Molly smiled, "She is a nice lady. I'd met her, of course, but I don't really know her. But you can tell her from me, it really did help that an older woman told me that I'd done the right thing." "Somehow I don't think I'll tell her that she's an older woman." I smiled. She smiled back, more confidant this time, "I am OK. I can't imagine that Susan will try again. To be put down twice, last night and this morning, will be quite enough for her I'm sure." She paused, "Thank you. Last night I didn't know who else to call. I don't really have a right to call to call on you for my problems." Now that was something that had never crossed my mind. Of course I was there for her in an emergency. But all I said was, "Well, I guess I'm not needed now, and we've both probably got lots to do." She looked disappointed, but all she did was to say "Why don't you come round tomorrow evening. Ralph should be back by about seven o'clock, and I thought we'd wait for him and have a family meal. So, on the Sunday I was back, in fact I just arrived after Ralph had returned. Molly said that he was upstairs having a shower, and that he'd be down soon, and that he seemed to have had a nice time. "How is he?" I asked. "Good, very good. But he really wanted to know if we were OK, and so I told him about Susan on Friday." "So he knows all that. Good." I said. Ralph was glowing, with both a suntan and excitement. He'd had a wonderful time, "You know I thought this holiday was going to be like taking medicine. It would be good for me, to see if I could do it without Susan. Hold my nose and swallow." He paused to look around the table, "Of course I missed her, but nowhere near as much as I expected. For the whole holiday I never had to dine alone, there was always someone or some couple that would invite me to join them. And there was a friendly crowd in the bar as well." Molly beat me to the next question, "So what does that mean?" "It means that I don't have to make a compromise that I would be ashamed of. That I don't have to share the rest of my life with someone who disgusts me. Tomorrow, I'll phone the solicitor and get things underway, and then I'll sit down and write to her. I don't want an unnecessary face to face, we've said all there is to be said." Jamie looked up, "Are you going to divorce Nanny Susan, Grandpa?" "Yes, Jamie, I am. I'm sorry. It means you won't be seeing her very much." "That's OK. She had funny ideas, I didn't like them very much." I was interested, "What ideas were those." "Well, when you left us Dad, I cried, I was only little then of course. And Nanny Susan told me that I shouldn't cry, that I'd have a new daddy very soon. And I didn't like that, you were my Dad and I wanted you to come back." I looked at Molly, who shrugged and looked mystified, "When was this?" "It was one night when Mummy went to dinner with Peter, and Nanny Susan was with us. It was the first time Mummy had been out by herself; I remember that, 'cos I was worried about her. I didn't think she wanted to go, but Nanny Susan made her." "Psalms 8:2" I muttered under my breath. And Ralph said, "No, Matthew 21:16" Which was followed by a friendly argument between myself and Ralph as to where 'out of the mouth of babes and sucklings' came from. And, after Jamie had fetched the Bible, we were both proved right, which was the best result for both of us. But then Ben, who was meant to be helping his mother serve, pulled my hand and led me to the kitchen, where Molly was meant to be collecting the pudding. She was in tears. I looked at her and understood, "Of course they cried. Their home was broken. What was horrible was Susan using all her guile to break it." "Yes, but it was them having to be old before their time. Jamie was four years old and he was worried about me." And a new wave of tears poured down her cheeks. "I know. They never deserved this. There are no winners in this. We're all losers." She looked at me, with anger in her eyes, "No, there were winners, Susan and Peter." "But they're losers now. Everything comes full circle." After that, for the next week, things were really good between myself and Molly. Our relationship was now fully back as a pair of parents, and as friends. Ralph, on the other hand, had a rough week. On Thursday, Susan got her 'I'm going to divorce you' letter from Ralph, and apparently she was none too pleased. She phoned Ralph and told him that he had no right to divorce her, that she'd fight it all the way, followed by a one hour diatribe on all that was wrong with him as a husband. After that he refused to take her calls, and if he did answer her, it was only to tell her to let the solicitors deal with it. It was on the Friday, I was beginning to unwind at the office before I went home, just sitting at my desk reading a daft report on Myra's investigations into he financial status of the Exeter operation, when Carole put her head around the door to say Peter Davies wanted to see me. I was tempted to send him away, but there was a possibility that this was business, and there was a duty on me to meet senior staff at their request. So, I told her to send him in. I got up from my desk as he came through the door, I nodded towards the sofa group, and I sat in my favourite armchair. He looked tired and pale with heavy black bags under his eyes. I waited for him to speak, which he eventually did, "You know what I want." And that was precisely what I didn't know. I knew what this was about, but I didn't know what he wanted. "Actually, no I don't. You'd better tell me." "I want my wife back. I need her in my life." He ran his hand through his hair, "I know she has some idea that she loves you, that you will want her back. But, you haven't taken her back, have you?" "We talk. I think both of us are just trying to understand what happened in our marriage, especially when it broke down." I answered as neutrally as I possibly could. "Yes. But you haven't taken her back. I guess you rather like the freedom to pursue your career, to travel wherever ITI sends you. You don't want a wife and kids around your neck. Well I do. I love her, I want her, and you've got to stop letting her think that you are ever going to take her back. It's not fair to her and it's not fair to me." "I don't believe this! You are turning to me to help you. I loved Molly, she is the mother of my sons. You're seduction of her bust up that marriage. And you expect me to help you?" He looked defensive, "She won't talk to me. She's threatening to just go to a judge and force a divorce." He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what to do." He looked up at me, and there was desperation in his eyes, the desperation that had brought him to plead with his enemy, "Look, if you want a family weekend, or even a family holiday once in a while, well I won't ask too many questions as to what goes on, but please tell her to come back to me, I've got to have her back. I can't think straight without her." If I was surprised before, now I'm shocked, "Did I hear you right, that you're suggesting that somehow we share her? Have you spoken to Molly about that one? She might have a view on that idea." Tears welled up in his eyes, "I don't know. Of course I don't want to share her. I love her and want her and miss her so much. It's just......it's just that as I lay awake at night, I try to think of something, someway..... I want my wife back. How can she do this to me? I love her." "So you keep saying." I whispered to myself, under my breath. I got up and walked over to my whisky. I poured two glasses. I could hear Peter Davies behind me, he was sobbing. I knocked back one whisky in two gulps. I'm meant to love this bit. I've waited five years for this, and now that it's arrived, I feel a bit sorry for the guy. I've had plans, how I was going to rub his nose in his miserable sex life, tell him how I liked it when Molly used to offer me anal sex, or how great her impromptu blow jobs were, or about the evening that I trimmed her pubes, or about the sexy underwear she happily wore. I'm sure I could reduce Mr Macho to tears with all of that, but now he's reduced himself to tears and spoilt my fun. I poured myself another whisky, and returned to the conversation, putting a whisky in front of him. I guess I should try and turn this to be constructive, for Molly's sake. But I did want some fun. I passed him a whisky and sat down. I waited while he sipped his drink, then I started, "You really are a miserable, self-centred, selfish, immoral little shit, aren't you? About five years ago, you saw an attractive woman that you fancied. You wanted to get into her pants, and that's all that mattered. She was wearing a wedding ring, but that didn't bother you. You wanted to get into her pants. She told you about her two sons. That didn't matter to you, you wanted to get into her pants. She told you about her husband, about her loving family, but none of that mattered to you. You were all that mattered to you." He looked at me, shocked at my vehemence, "And that's all that matters to you. Revenge? You've had your revenge. You seduced her into our bed. In my house. You knew she still had some stupid sentimental memories of you, and you used that to try getting back at me. You've had your revenge." I paused, wondering if I should respond to his jibes. But I didn't want my lecture to descend to an argument, so I ignored his interruption, "And one day you managed it. You were The Man. You'd seen want you wanted and you'd got it, without any thought of the damage to other people that you hurt. But then you wanted something more. You wanted her so much that you couldn't stop there. You couldn't give her the time to repair the damage that you'd caused to her marriage. Oh No! Now you wanted her all to yourself. But you couldn't do that on your own, you had to recruit her mother to help you. Because what you wanted was all that mattered. And you managed that. You got her to marry you. A marriage, not built on mutual love grown over months, but pressurised in the trauma of divorce. You selfish little shit." He looked at me, and I could see he was forming a reply, so I kept going, "Well, now, just for once in your miserable life, how about doing something for this woman that you claim to love? How about giving her what she wants? Give her the divorce she asks for, and give her the fair financial settlement that she's entitled to. Maybe, just maybe, then she won't look upon you and your marriage with disgust." "What do you mean?" I took a large sip of whisky, and paused, "I mean: I know because Molly has told me, that there was a lot of your marriage that was good. But she wants a divorce now. So before you destroy everything that was good in the last four years, give her her freedom." He blew his nose and gulped back most of his whisky, "I know I behaved badly in the very beginning. I'm not proud of that. I didn't know any better then. I can't blame her for thinking badly of me about all of that. But we do have something special. She told me that she loves me. She is my wife. I know she's upset with Susan about everything. If it wasn't that no one else is talking to Susan, I think Susan would be furious with me for what she and I did. She had her reasons and I had mine, they just came together. But now she needs a friend." He looked up at me, more composed now, "I take it that you know that Ralph is divorcing Susan. She has no one now." "Yes a thirty six year old marriage bites the dust, and partly because of the consequences of your immoral behaviour towards a wife and mother. For Christ's sake, redeem yourself a little, do the right thing now." He drank the last dregs of his whisky, "But that's what I want. That's why you must help me, to give her a chance to see all that was good in our marriage. To look on it in a different light." "Well, you'll have to make your own chances. I'm not going to help you." "Are you saying we need to put this behind us? Well, that's what I want. I didn't respond, and he was obviously thinking, but then he asked, "What will you say to Molly?" "I will probably give her as good a verbatim account of this meeting as I can. I see no point in having secrets, in trying to use people or telling only half truths. But I will never interfere in someone else's marriage if I can possibly avoid it. And the one time that I slipped and did cause a problem in yours, well I guess I should apologise for that. I will say this, if Molly wants to talk to you, or to stay married to you, then it doesn't matter what I think." He stood up and looked at me, he didn't offer me his hand, and I didn't offer mine. He just said, "Thank you for your time." And turned and left. No sooner than he was out of the door, than Carole was in it. "I heard every word, he left the door open." I just looked at her, I think I was beyond words, and Carole said, "Don't be sorry for him. I thought you did rather well." "I am sorry for him. He's pathetic. But that doesn't mean that I don't hate him too." Just then my phone rang, Carole picked it up, answered it and handed it to me, "Its Dr McBaine." I got up and went and sat at my desk. I took the phone, and Carole mouthed, "See you on Monday." And left. "Yes, Piers?" It had the hiss and burble of Piers phoning from a party or a pub, "Chris, I'm at the George, and I noticed Peter was missing. I've asked, and apparently he's on his way to see you. I thought I ought to warn you." "Too late. He's just left." "How was he?" "Sad, pathetic and miserable. It was all quite enjoyable really." "Will he be working on Monday?" "Who knows? We'll find out on Monday." "How about a drink one evening next week. You can tell me all about it and you need another lesson in the finer arts. Wednesday?" "You've got a date." I said. I did tell Molly all about Peter's visit, after I'd taken the boys out for a cycle ride on Sunday. And we spent a totally futile hour trying to guess what he was going to do. Molly did tell me that Peter only had until Friday, after that her solicitor would be petitioning to proceed with the divorce anyway. The next meeting for Molly and me to talk was on Tuesday. At my instigation we started going over Peter's courtship of Molly, almost on an hour by hour basis. I also asked her where she was in her meetings with Heather Washington. She admitted that they had got sidetracked into Molly and Susan's relationship. I wasn't surprised, Molly had shocked herself with the vehemence that she felt about Susan. But she did say that the tests she had done about herself in those months had convinced Heather that she had been severely traumatised by the breakdown of our marriage. And in a traumatised state, anyone can be highly susceptible to suggestion, especially from a trusted loved one. Which I guess added up to Jeanette's view of the situation. I couldn't add a lot to what she was feeling about Susan, except to sympathise. So we returned to the months that led up to her marriage. I did learn about the intensity of Peter's campaign. He was seeing her five or six times a week. On some days they had both lunch and dinner together. It was relentless. And, of course, it was backed up by Susan. When Molly complained, and suggested that Peter should cool it, that he should give her time to get through the divorce at least, it was Susan who argued with her that there was no shame in moving on quickly if she'd found a good man. And in Susan's opinion, Peter was a wonderful man. Apparently Molly and Susan argued twice about this, but Susan won, as she always did. The conversation was painful to both of us, because as she told it, both of us could see the orchestrated campaign take shape. It made her feel foolish, and it made me angry. It wasn't so much that it hurt me personally, as it made me angry that two human beings would try to manipulate someone who they claimed to love. It was just wrong. I guess from Peter and Susan's point of view, they were helping her, guiding her, supporting her. They probably didn't know themselves how manipulative they were being. I did have some worries about Molly and Susan. It seemed so dreadful to be permanently estranged from her own mother. I did wonder if some compromise wouldn't be healthier. I don't know why, but after Molly left on that Tuesday evening, I was feeling dissatisfied, but I wasn't sure what I was dissatisfied with. I wondered if we were approaching the time when I should start raising the idea that this was it. This was as good as it gets. And we might as well accept it, we would be friends, we would provide a united front and a loving relationship for the boys. Maybe we should move on to discuss how we could make that work. On the Wednesday morning, I had a business breakfast, organised by the Chamber of Commerce. I was seated alongside a rather attractive lady in her early thirties and immaculately dressed. Apparently this was her first breakfast gathering, and she was a bit nervous. Whether it was her nervousness or something else I wasn't sure, but she seemed to want to tell me her whole life story. She had come out of a short but bad marriage some eight years ago, and had focussed on building her own business, a small chain of ladies' fashion shops. She now had seven shops and felt she should now start giving some attention of her personal life, which was why she'd come along to the breakfast. I began to get a message, and I wondered how I felt about it. She was quite attractive, and obviously she found me attractive. But, I was committed to building some sort of relationship with Molly. I had no hope that my relationship with Molly would go much further, it was ridiculous to think otherwise, but I realised that I didn't really fancy this woman. I knew I thought Molly was far more attractive, and that worried me. That I would be trapped into a friendship with Molly that killed any opportunity I might have to build a relationship with anyone else. And that left me in a bad mood all day. So, by the time I got to Piers's Scottish pub that night, I was quite pleased with the timeliness of the meeting. I could bend his ear with my problems. "I need to eat." I announced, picking up a menu. "Well, let's sit down at a table, and you can. But you won't need that." He took the menu card out of my hand, "If you're drinking whisky, well there is only one thing to eat. But I won't join you, I ate with Jeanette before I came out." So, we found a table, and I ordered my haggis. And Piers got us the first of our whiskies, a Glenkinchie, "Something you know. A good base from which to start." "So?" was all he asked, as we sipped our drinks. "So, I think I need to chew the fat, and to hear the words of wisdom that I'm sure will guide me through a bit of a quandary." But, before that, I had to bring him up to date, which with his questioning got us through three Speyside whiskies, and my meal. It had been Piers who decided that my education that night would focus on brand names that I might recognise, and only from Speyside. And for the first three, he had lined them up on the table, with me tasting each in turn, Glen Grant, Glenlivet and a Macallen. And I was very pleased with myself, because I could begin to spot differences between them. By the time we'd finished this phase of the whisky tasting I'd brought Piers up to date on my relationship with Molly, and on Peter and Susan, and even on Molly seeing Heather Washington. Pier's looked at me, "I think this is a good point to stop the education bit, you've probably learnt enough for tonight anyway. I wouldn't want to over tax your wee managing director's brain, so let's get on to serious drinking. And I suspect, now you really want to talk. Am I right?" Four whiskies down, and now we get on to the serious drinking! I smiled, "I don't know what to do. I reckon that Molly and I are about at the point where it can't get any better. We're back as honest open friends. I understand what happened, well almost, which helps me. And I've been able to give her some support when she's been going through a pretty rough time. So, at some point, we've got to agree we're friends, and then we can start building the rest of our lives, other relationships and whatever the future holds." Piers drank the last of his Macallen, and said, "Oh, let's stick to the Speyside." And he ordered two Abelours. Then he looked at me, "Well, there are two gaps in that little scenario." "Which are?" "First, you said that you still only almost understand. What don't you understand?" "I'm beginning to understand what happened to Molly that led her to marry Peter Fucking Davies. He was obsessed by her. He was wooing her on turbo charge. And Susan was aiding and abetting him all the way down the line. For a girl slightly shell-shocked from what had happened in her life, I'm not surprised that she weakened. We talked about it a lot last night, and I am beginning to be convinced, but I'm not totally satisfied. I reckon she should have told him to fuck off, even if that meant a hell of a row with Susan about how cruel she thought Molly was being to a kind and loving man." "So, you really need to talk some more on that one. OK. And my other question was that you have this idea that you are going to move forward in your life, by which I assume you are going to start dating again, but that Molly is not." That did leave me a little nonplussed. I hadn't considered Molly dating again. "Well, I sort of assumed that as the mother of two young boys, that her life would be taken up with looking after them. She's got to find somewhere to live for a start." I looked at Piers, "Single parent mothers just divorced don't date, do they? I know she did before, but she was under pressure from Susan, but not when left to her own devices. I guess she will sometime, but I would have thought she'd leave it a while." "And if she did, how would you feel?" I thought about that, then I smiled, "Can I have a couple of days notice of that question?" "Well, if you want to move on to dating, why shouldn't Molly? And how would you feel about that? About bringing another man into your children's lives." Now that did hit home, "That's unfair, Piers." I sunk my Abelour in one gulp. "But fuck. You're right." I paused again, "This morning I half fancied a woman at a business breakfast I went to. But I didn't fancy her as much as I fancy Molly. And I was scared that that was how it was going to be for the rest of my life. I can't totally reconcile with Molly, but I can't move on either. And you, you fucking bastard, have just given me another angle on that horrible scenario. What happens if I'm stuck in limbo land and she moves on?" He ignored my rant, and turned to the bar and ordered two Glenrothes. Then he turned back, "So, you fancy Molly, do you? She's still does it for you?" "Yes. She always has. But that's irrelevant. I'm not going to start screwing her. And it would be totally wrong to try and build a friendship with benefits, as they say. I'm not the most moral person in the world, but that would be unfair on both of us." Piers sat sipping his Glenrothes, and thinking. "You know Molly has great hopes that she can win you back? She told Jeanette that she was going to do whatever it took, and take as long as it has to. God only knows why, she's attractive enough to get half a dozen men more attractive than you. But, she has been through rather a lot recently, maybe she's not thinking straight." "Piers, you're doing a Susan. I can feel you pulling my strings. Stop it." He smiled, "No. I was being healthily disparaging about you. That'll do you no harm. But I have been reminding you that if you want to start playing around, then Molly can as well. And I reckon she's a better catch than you are. Maybe not financially, but in most other respects. And if the Courts give her the proper settlement from Peter, even financially she'll be quite attractive." We both sipped our whiskies in silence. I couldn't find the loophole in his argument, maybe another whisky would help. I slammed my empty glass down, "What next?" "Glenfiddich." Piers smiled, "They've got an eighteen year old one back there, but I'd better get them, they won't serve it to a Sassenach." When we had our fresh whiskies, Piers said, "I know what I would do, if I were you. I'd give it time. Poor Molly has had a horrible time in the last few weeks. She's launched a divorce petition against her husband, and has no idea whether he'll give her a clean and simple divorce, or whether she faces a long drawn out wrangle through the Courts. She's had serious falling out with her mother, and maybe has split from her for ever, and that can't be easy..." "I told you, she's talking to a counsellor about that." I said. "Good. There is something very fundamental about our relationship with our mothers. Finding that you can't stand yours must be horrible. But then on top of that, she's finding out some of the things that hit her two sons, and she'll be worried about any aftermath for them. And finally, she's seeing her own father getting a divorce. And however much of a brave face he puts on it, it must be hurting him like Hell, and his daughter will know that." There was a pause while I took in quite how bad Molly's situation has been. But then Piers continued, "I don't think having the love of her life telling her that he's only a good friend, and that he has other plans, is quite what she wants at the moment." I sipped my whisky, and I wished he hadn't said that. Piers continued, "It won't hurt you to tread water for a couple of weeks. And anyway, it'll give you a chance to finish finding out quite why the hell she married a man she never loved." I finished my whisky. The alcohol was making me quiet this evening. But Piers didn't seem to mind. He asked, "How is Molly standing up to all the things going on in her life at the moment?" I thought about that for a moment, then replied, "Really well, actually. OK, she gets upset or uptight, who wouldn't? But, she's remaining pretty level headed about it all. Why? Did I imply otherwise?" "No, I just wanted to check. What shall we have as a last one? I think I saw a twenty five year old Knockando hidden at the end of the shelf. That'll do nicely." When we had our final whiskies which looked to be doubles to my mind, I fell back into my silent thoughtfulness, but I was aware that Piers was sitting the other side of the table just quietly looking at me. "What?" was all I asked. "I was thinking, in some ways, you are a lucky bastard. And I wondering what was special about you." "OK. I guess you're going to explain how being up to my neck in this shit makes me a lucky bastard." "Well, you have something that most married men don't. Oh, we all want to believe that we are wanted, are absolutely essential to our wives' lives. But you know it." He paused, and looked at me, but I guess I just look mystified and was waiting for him to continue. Which he did, "When Molly lost you out of her life, her life went down the pan, it was shit. She took stupid decisions, she allowed stupid things to happen. Her life wasn't properly manageable without you. She was lost. But, now you're there again, well she can cope with dreadful things happening, and remain level headed. I'd like to think that Jeanette would be lost without me, but I don't know. You do know that about Molly." "God! You like to lay it on with a trowel, don't you?" I observed, and he smiled, but I continued, "What are you saying? That Molly is some weak willed slut, and it's my duty to be there to protect her from herself? No thank you." "No. And you know I'm not. Molly is a strong person. She's no slut, and don't try and make out that she is, just because she made a mistake once. No, but even strong people aren't always so strong if they don't have their loving support systems around them. You and Molly are stronger together than apart. You know it and you have the proof." He paused, "And I'm probably drunk, so you'll have to make up your own mind as to whether it's vino veritas, or the ramblings of a drunk." "Which seems a good point to say goodnight." I said and started to stand. "No coffee, or even a fleeting taste of the Orkneys?" "No thanks Piers. Give my love to Jeanette, but I told the driver to pick me up from here. He should be outside waiting." And that's how we left it. Piers had done his job. He'd given me some fresh angles of things. Damn him! By the time I got to my Thursday meeting with Molly, I'd got no further in my thinking than not to make waves. Instead, we continued to talk a lot about how Peter got her to agree to his marriage proposal. And slowly but surely I was beginning to have some understanding of what happened. Molly did admit, after a lot of fairly deep talking, that she had felt a tremendous urge for a rebound relationship. She had lost her husband, she desperately needed a new one. I had some understanding of that. I remembered the sad and desperate trawls I made through seedy pubs and clubs, looking for a woman, any woman. I know it was very important to me to prove that I was still a man, that I could still attract and satisfy the female of the species. I guess the same was true for Molly. So, in the end, I guess I just have to accept that Molly fell into a totally stupid marriage under the relentless pressure of Peter, who was obsessed by her. And under the pressure of Susan, who was desperate to see her daughter with a safe, middle class future based in Bristol. And under her own pressure of needing a man. Plus all the corruption and collusion and lying and cheating thrown in for good measure. It all added up to a good person making a dreadful mistake. Understanding it in my head didn't necessarily convince my heart. I still hurt and I was still angry. And our conversation very quickly disintegrated into me telling her what a pity it was that Susan took all her telephones away, that she couldn't pick up a phone and talk to me. It was a pity that somehow she felt she owed Peter such loyalty that she had to date him all the time and never had a chance to come and see me. My sarcasm wasn't wasted, it only took me about ten minutes to reduce her to tears. An evening that should have finished with the satisfaction of knowing and understanding the truth ended in tears and recriminations. It was that Friday, just after lunch, and I was in my office, girding my loins for the afternoon, when Molly phoned me. I thought, here we go again, Susan's done something. "Sorry to phone you, but I had to tell you. I've just heard from my solicitor. Apparently, Peter has appointed a solicitor, and the divorce can go through uncontested. And he accepts the financial settlement." "Great. You must be so relieved." "I am. Actually, he has some minor changes to the settlement. He wants to preserve the Welsh cottage as his, although its value will be accounted for. And I must return all the jewellery he ever gave me except for my engagement and wedding rings. I suspect that's slightly wrong, I think his solicitor has made a mistake. I think all he wants back is his mother's jewellery, but I'm not going to argue, he can have the lot back. He has accepted that I get fifty percent of the total net worth, which is good." "Well done." I answered. "It's all down to you. It's because of what you said to him last Friday. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." She was bubbling. It was obviously a great relief that he was conceding. I'd just about put the phone down on her, when Carole came in. "Who would destroy the peace and tranquillity of your Friday afternoon the most? Because she's sitting outside wanting to see you." "Susan? Fuck! As you say, shit happens." I paused and thought, "OK. I guess you'd better show her in. But what does she want with me, she hates my guts?" As Carole turned to go, I added, "And definitely, no tea or coffee." Carole turned back towards me, "Arsenic?" "Don't tempt me. Just tell her to park her broomstick and come in." As Susan came through the door, I looked up, "Susan. I can't say I'm not rather surprised to see you. Do take a seat." She sat down at my desk. I looked at her, she simply looked awful. She not only looked tired and old, but she hadn't even brushed her hair properly. "Chris. I thought I'd come and see the organ grinder and not the monkey." "And who do you see as the monkey?" "Does it matter? I know it's you that is orchestrating this campaign against Peter and myself." She paused, and then added, "You've got to make it stop, before some real damage is done." "Don't you think helping to wreck my marriage to your daughter was real damage? I do." "But that was a long time ago. I know Molly and Ralph are upset with me for what I did then. But it's all a long time ago. I'm sixty next year. I won't be on this planet for that much longer, and you're trying to separate me from the people I love the most. I need you to make them see sense." Do all ex-mother-in-laws live in cloud cuckoo land, or is it just mine? "Susan, to the very best of my knowledge, both Ralph and Molly have come to their own personal views on you and on what you did. And I don't think either of them like you very much. If you've got problems with that, well you'll have to take it up with them. But I warn you, I think it's too late. The damage is done, and I don't think they're about to forgive you." She smiled, a sickly smile, "But that's why I've come to see you. I know you don't like what I did. I suppose I can't blame you for that. But, you know the truth now, and I see you haven't reconciled with Molly, so I assume you are happy with the way things turned out. But you can't really believe that it is reasonable for Ralph to divorce me, or for Molly to not only refuse to see me, but to stop me seeing Jamie and Ben. What am I meant to do? They're my own kith and kin, I can't be cut of from them. You must see that." "Well, I suggest you start getting used to the idea. And no, I'm not happy that you did your utmost to separate Jamie and Ben from their father. That was plain wrong, and potentially damaging to two young innocent boys. So, I'm not going to interfere on your behalf. Isn't that what you used to tell Ralph, that he mustn't interfere? Tell you what, why don't you write Ralph and Molly letters? And I'll post them for you." She grimaced, angrily, "I suppose you think that's smart. All I ever wanted was my family around me, is that so wrong? Was I wrong to fight for something good like that? You're a businessman, you know you have to go out and get what you want in this world." "Not at the expense of betraying your own loved ones. They don't trust you, and trust, once lost is never easily regained. Forget it, Susan. You got caught, and now you pay the price." "But it's all in the past. Of course they can trust me. Why shouldn't they?" I sighed, "Let's take something mundane. You think Ralph's a bit overweight, say, and you've been nagging him a bit about it. Well, then you come home from the supermarket, and say that they didn't have his favourite type of cheese. Now is that honest, or are you lying to force him to eat the tasteless half fat version you bought? He knows you are willing to lie and cheat and be dishonest to get what you want. It will permeate every day life, every action that you take. He doesn't trust you. And, as I understand it, he's not willing to live like that, and I can hardly blame him." "No. No, you're wrong. Ralph married me until death us do part, for better or worse. He's a good, honest man. He may be upset with me now, but he'll get over it. He'll not let us split up over this. He won't go ahead with this divorce idea. He's just angry with me, but he'll see sense. It's Molly that I'm worried about. She said some dreadful things to me, and I've waited, and she hasn't apologised. I guess you won't let her. Well, you've got to, she's my daughter; she's part of my life. Don't you see that?" "Molly has made her decision about you. It is nothing to do with me, but I will support her with what she's decides, even if she changes her mind. Personally, I think you're an evil selfish bitch. But if I have to, I will treat you civilly. I won't change my mind about you, but I will treat you civilly." She smiled, almost in victory, "No, you're wrong. You don't know them or understand them at all. But I'm wasting my time. Well, you've had your chance. When all of this has blown over, you won't be welcome at my house, ever. You're a cruel, manipulative man. And you seem to bear grudges. I thought you were ambitious and selfish, but I never thought you'd stoop this low. But I can see I was wrong." She stood up and turned to leave. I purposely picked up a paper on my desk and pretended to read it, "Goodbye, Susan." She was no sooner out of the door, than Carole was in it. "OK?" was all she asked. I smiled, "You work for a cruel, manipulative man. Did you know that?" Carole smiled, "Yes." I laughed, and it eased the tension in my body. "What is it about Fridays? Three weeks ago it was Susan. Last week it was Peter. This week it's Susan again. Would you please phone Peter Davies and tell him that next Friday's meeting has been postponed indefinitely. Carole laughed and then said, "They're queuing at the door. You're running late now." "OK. Show them in, and let's get back to business. But, can you do me a favour?" I handed her my phone, "Phone Molly, please. And warn her that Susan is in Bristol, she's seen me, and now we don't know where she's gone. But don't panic her." "I see. Your mother's on the warpath, she's probably looking for you. But don't worry." She smiled. Of course, as Carole brought in the tea during my meeting, she told me that I was now expected to have dinner with Molly and Ralph as soon as I left work, just to tell them all about Susan's visit. Over dinner, I learnt that Susan hadn't tried to contact either of them, but what impressed me was Ralph's grim determination to divorce Susan. It made me wonder if there had been other problems in that marriage, or was it that Ralph had tasted freedom and liked it? And he warned us, the estimate was that in the next week Susan would get her copy of the divorce petition. That promised to be fun. I didn't please Molly on Saturday. I took Jamie and Ben shopping without her, and that didn't go down well. I hadn't been shopping with them for nearly five years. And it was so wonderfully average and normal, and I wanted to do that, on my own and without pressure. And I bought them all sorts of clothes that they assured me were the fashion, and which I thought made them look like every other child on the street. But on Sunday, I went for a long cycle ride again, all by myself. I felt that I had things to think about. And I was aware that I was under pressure, that Molly was just quietly waiting for me to fall, as if she was sitting under a ripening apple. And I didn't like that and I think I came back angrier than when I went. I remembered what Piers had said, it wouldn't hurt me to tread water, so I tried to suppress my frustration and anger, aware that Molly and Ralph had too much going on in their lives already. But, on Tuesday evening at my place, it started to spill out. We'd had a nice meal, which I'd brought in with me. It was just a ready prepared meal from the supermarket, but it was good. And we were gently discussing Peter, and she made the mistake of asking if I'd forgiven her yet for that fateful afternoon. "No. Of course I haven't forgiven you for betraying our marriage. Of betraying and failing our family. Of doing something that was immoral and stupid and just plain wrong!" From there, my language when downhill, my volume went uphill, and my diatribe just continued. She just took it all, she didn't defend herself, she hardly replied, except to say sorry. She did try calling a break by suggesting that she'd make a couple of mugs of coffee, but that just set me off again. "Well be careful, make sure you don't spill any hot water." She left at about nine thirty looking pale and shocked. I was quite sorry to see her go, I still had plenty that I wanted to say. But I had to save it for Thursday, which I did. And I still had some left over for the following Tuesday. And I was still going strong on the Thursday after that. I knew I was wrong, and I didn't like myself. I wasn't adding anything new to our relationship, if anything I was destroying it. I was quite surprised when she seemed to keep coming back for more. She never complained, she just came back the next time with a bright smile and we would eat, and then she would provoke me with something she said, like 'How was your day?' What man could resist responding under such heavy provocation? "How do you think my day was? I spent some of it wondering why I'm spending two evenings a week trying to build a relationship with a girl who betrays me, betrays every ounce of trust I ever had in her. Who breaks up our family rather than come to me and beg forgiveness. Who quite deliberately allows our two sons to go fatherless for years....." Oh, I was good. I was very good. "Please pass the salt." Was enough to set me off for a one hour rant on rubbing salt into the wounds, on how betrayed I felt, on how lonely my years in the wilderness were. It was nine forty on that second Thursday of my explosions and I was staring at the back of my front door, out of which a pale and shaken Molly had just left, when I thought, 'You really have fucked it up, Chris.' I poured myself a whisky, and thought, 'being upset once in a while over what she did is one thing, but balling her out for five meetings in a row is something else.' I had another whisky. It was Carole that brought the subject up the next day, "By the look of your eyes, I see you've taken to the bottle to solve whatever it is." "In the absence of a better solution, alcohol does very nicely." She sat down, "So tell me about it." "I'm not sure I want to, I don't like myself very much at the moment." "I haven't thought a lot of you for the past couple of weeks either, what with the mood you've been in, and I'd like to know why." I sighed, "Because...... No, you tell me, why is it that I could meet our biggest competitor walking through that door and I'd greet him with a smile and chat amicably? Even Peter Fucking Davies can walk in here and get a civilised conversation. But if Molly walked in, you'd here the swearing and bile at the other end of the building within thirty seconds." "So, it's not going too well then? I guess there had to be a rough time. Isn't that progress?" "I don't think that me losing control is progress. If she walked in now, I promise you, I'd probably find fault with her, and explode without her even saying a word. If she was wearing a short skirt, then it'd be 'I see you like to advertise what a slut you are' and if she was wearing a long skirt, it'd be 'I see your trying not to let on as to your true nature'. I promise you, Carole, I've only got to see her and I'm off. And I know that I don't really mean half of it, and I certainly don't want to hurt her just for the sake of it." I sighed, "I wouldn't mind so much if it made me feel any better, but it doesn't." "I'm no psychiatrist, but years ago she hurt you deeply, and it's got to come out. And it is apparently, that's a good thing, isn't it? Only when you've cleared the air can you go forward." "Oh, I grant you, the reason is obvious, it's a big hurt with five year's interest. But there is no where to go forward to. We were there already, with a really good easy going friendship and I seemed to be intent on destroying all of that." "Well drink won't help you recover it." She looked at me and paused thoughtfully, "How about taking her out to dinner? Nothing special, but being out in public might stop you being quite so destructive. You could still say what you want, but in a more reasonable way." I thought about that, and it seemed a good idea, and I said so. But whether I'll get a chance remains to be seen. I took the boys out cycling on Sunday. But I collected them from Molly with hardly any words being spoken between us. I thought she looked more tired than I've ever seen her. I asked the boys, "How's your mother? I thought she was looking a bit strained." Jamie looked at me, "You should know, Dad. You see her twice a week." God! I fucking wish my nine year old son wasn't so wise. When I got them back, it was Ralph who met me, and once the bikes were unloaded, it was he who said, "I think it's time to revise an old habit. A glass of sherry in the shed, perhaps?" Whilst he poured the sherry, I asked, "How's the divorce and Susan?" He smiled grimly, "Well, she's bending my ear at every opportunity she gets, to tell me that I'm the worse husband in the world, or how much she wants to come back and work things out. The contradiction of that seems to go unnoticed. But I have a real premonition that divorcing her isn't going to be as easy as it seems." "Problems?" I asked "I would have thought you have sufficient grounds." "Not in the actual divorce, but she's making it awkward for me in the settlement. My solicitor thinks that there's no problem in the lump sum bit. Sell this house and she gets fifty percent of the house and our savings. Simple. No, she seems to be setting herself up to argue about her pension." "You can't do anything about that. She'll have a chunk of your pension, whether you like it or not. I'm sorry, Ralph, but that's the way it is." "Oh, I know that, and I'm not actually arguing about that. It's just that I want to preserve my pension all for me. I want to buy her an annuity of her own, out of my share of our capital. That way I keep up my high income, and I can afford the holidays and lifestyle I want. Even having bought her an annuity, I'll have enough to buy myself a small place with a bit of a garden, and that's all I want." "So, what's the problem?" "Arguing about the comparative values of different annuities will keep actuaries and lawyers happy for years. And at the end of it there won't be enough money left after their fees to actually buy the bloody thing." "Oh. I don't think I can help you with that one." "No, you can't. Actually, I think Susan is only using it as an excuse to hang on in there until I come to my senses. She'll have a long wait." "Good luck." We paused and sipped our sherries. It was Ralph that broke the silence, "Did Molly tell you? She's got a Court date for her decree nisi. Her divorce seems to be going like clockwork after that rough start." "So, when is it?" "The twelfth of September. Then six weeks later and she's free of him." "It can't be much more than about ten weeks to the twelfth of September. As you say, it has gone like clockwork." Ralph looked at me, "But your talking to her hasn't, has it?" I hung my head, and asked, "What has she said?" "Well, I don't know how long you two have been not getting along, but I first noticed it on the Tuesday of the week before last. I was getting myself some warm milk just before I went to bed, so I guess it was just gone eleven when she came in. And she looked rather worn. I assumed it was just one rough night, that's to be expected, and said as much. But, last night I had to talk to her. In the last few days I've never seen her look rougher, not since you two first broke up." He looked up at me, in the eyes, and said, "She's at the end, Chris. Whatever is going on, she can't take much more of it." "And you know what's going on. I'm not proud of it, Ralph. I just don't seem able to stop myself. She says something quite innocent, and I open my mouth and it all pours out." "It's not all bad. She knows that it's been pent up inside you for a long time now. It's just hard for her to take, especially as she had such great hopes for you both. She was in tears last night, she really does think you're at the end. She's beginning to believe that she hurt you so badly that there is no repairing it." I sipped my sherry and thought, "Just a minute. Back up a second. Did you say she's not getting in until past eleven o'clock?" He looked surprised at my question, "She hasn't been in before eleven for a couple of weeks now. Why?" "Because she leaves me no later than ten, frequently well before that. And at that time of night, it'd only take half an hour at the most between here and my place. What is she doing?" He paused and thought for a moment, "My guess is she's sitting in some lay-by somewhere, crying her eyes out. Whatever else you do, Chris, you've got to stop it." "Oh, God! What sort of man am I? I never meant to do that to her. I lose my temper, but not to hurt her that much." "Well, find another way. I don't know... hold her hand as you do it. Or try not to raise your voice. Or ... Oh I don't know, find your own way. But it can't go on like this." "Carole at work suggested that I take her out to a restaurant. I couldn't shout and swear there." "That might do. I suggested to her that she answers you back. Gives as good as she gets. But she just looked at me, and said 'How can I when I deserve every word he says?' Find another way, Chris, or give up, or maybe just call a halt for a while, but you can't go on like this." I swigged back the last of my sherry, "I agree. Tell her I'm sorry. You know I never meant to hurt her that much?" "I know that and so does she." "Tell her I'll see her on Tuesday, and we'll try to talk about where we go from here." On Monday in the office, Carole asked "How was your weekend?" "I think I now know, beyond any certainty or doubt, that I'm a cruel, heartless shit. My ex-father-in-law took the trouble to tell me quite how much I'm hurting Molly with my tirades. So, I guess the weekend can go down in history as not one of my best." "Don't get upset with yourself because you have feelings. No one has that depth of hurt and anger if they don't care. Just learn to dish it out in smaller doses. What have you got planned for tomorrow evening? Are you going to take up my idea of a restaurant?" I shook my head, "No. I need a meeting, and it has to be in private. I think there could be tears from either of us or both of us. We can't go on like this. I had the start of a really good friendship right here in my hand, and I've blown it. Everything that I ever hoped for out of this damn mess was in sight. And now I can't see any alternative but to just give up. We tried, and I failed." I left work slightly early on Tuesday evening, I wanted to get home before Molly arrived, and I wanted the meal to be a bit special, just something to at least say I was sorry. When she arrived she let herself in, but I heard her and met her in the hallway. She looked more nervous and paler than I ever remember seeing her. She was dressed nicely, in a simple blue summer dress, that showed off her cleavage, and she's got good boobs. But her eyes looked as if they hadn't closed for sleep in a month. I kissed her on the cheek, she had that perfume, my perfume. "Come on in. We need to talk." And I led the way back into the living room. I turned and looked at her. "I'm sorry. I just don't seem to be able to control my temper and I know I've hurt you. I never meant to do that. I'm sorry." She half smiled, "You never said anything that I haven't said to myself a thousand times. I've spent the last five years saying those things in my private thoughts. It's just that I never realised how deeply I must of hurt you. I can't bear to hear your pain. I'm sorry." And she burst into tears. I looked at her for a moment, then I went and poured two gin and tonics, but I squeezed her shoulder as I passed, in a gesture of sympathy. When I turned round with the drinks, to pass her one, she was sitting on the sofa, drying her eyes on a handkerchief. "Susan used to say: men don't feel these things like women do. I guess somewhere, I must have believed that at least a little bit. I thought, after all this time, there was a chance for us. I guess I should never have hoped, I don't deserve it." "You don't deserve what I've been doing for the past couple of weeks." I paused, "Drink your drink. It'll make you feel better." She sipped her G&T, and then looked up, "Are we at the end?" I paused, choosing my words, "Stay for something to eat. It's veal, your favourite. But Yes, maybe we are. Sorry." 2239 1.70/512345