Bailing Out

Once we were both properly equipped for skydiving, it was only the actual jumps that we had to pay for -- plus occasional replacements and upgrades of course -- and we lived very comfortably; although Abbie had a passion for new clothes that sometimes threatened to get out of hand. We even had occasional minor arguments over that and, though I gave in to her most of the time, there were odd incidents where I had to put my foot down about something or other.

At work, things had been a bit uncomfortable for me for a short while after Griffin Lloyd passed away. Gerald tried throwing his weight around but, as I knew full well, he only had a nominal amount of shares in the business -- the vast majority were in Samantha's name only. Fortunately, it came to a head pretty quickly. We were at a board meeting and he actually tried to get me fired. It was Samantha who put him in his place.

"Before anyone even thinks of supporting that," she said, "I'll tell you that Robbie taught me whatever I know about this business and... to be honest... I think he's the only one who really knows how everything works. Therefore, vote for it if you will but, as chairperson and majority shareholder, I can promise you that I'll veto it."

There was a deathly silence while the two of them glared at one another for several seconds -- and then Gerald backed down. We all knew full well that Sammy was his meal ticket - he'd managed to fritter away the inheritance his parents had left him -- and she kept him on a tight leash. I knew he wanted me out of the way because I was vigilant enough to prevent him dipping his fingers into the company's financial resources.

They stayed behind after the rest of us left -- obviously to have 'words,' but I realised that I'd left some of my notes behind and was about to go back in for them when I heard Gerald's voice rasping:

"You've always had a soft spot for that bloody Davies, haven't you? And I bloody-well know which part of your body that soft spot's in, too! What else did he mentor you in? You're like a bitch on heat whenever he's around."

I stopped listening at that point because I didn't want to hear any more. I crept away quietly and returned to the office, not quite understanding what I'd heard. As I've already said, Samantha and I hadn't really got on very well when we'd first worked together -- I'd thought her feckless and she'd probably thought me dull. Actually, because of my background, I'd believed that she thought me a bit too 'common' for her taste and all the teasing and flirting had merely been a way to torment me. Could I have been wrong?

Well, it was too late for any regrets. Not that I had any, of course, because things were still very good in my marriage -- even if hers didn't seem to be terribly happy. I liked her, and she was still absolutely gorgeous; that was as far as it went -- but it certainly gave me food for thought.

That night, I told Abbie about the board meeting, but I was glad I hadn't got around to telling her what Gerald had said later because Abbie suddenly interrupted me with:

"Watch out for that stuck-up bitch. I always knew she had the hots for you! She'd just love to get her hooks into you (that struck a familiar chord!) and if she ever does, I'll not only scratch her eyes out... I'll rip your balls off as well!"

"So... you're definitely not up for a threesome, then?" I asked. For a moment I thought she was going to kill me, then she saw the look on my face, burst out laughing and called me a pig and a bastard and a lot of other things that I can't actually recall at the moment.

So, as you can see, things were pretty good for me by then. I had a decent, if slightly boring, job that was pretty well remunerated and secure. I had a beautiful and loving wife plus, if what I was hearing was true, a rich and beautiful lady lusting after me. And I had the means to indulge my partner and me in a hobby that gave me a genuine 'rush.'

I don't really know exactly when it all started to go wrong -- it was probably a good while before I even realised what was happening -- but go wrong it certainly did.

**

CH02.

The first indication I had that something wasn't quite as it should be came when Abbie suddenly lost her enthusiasm for skydiving. I don't mean gradually, I mean it was as sudden as flicking off a light switch. We'd had a spell of really good weather that summer and we'd been able to get plenty of opportunities to leap out of planes, 'flying' and hurtling towards the ground at about 120mph.

Okay, I know it sounds dangerous, and anything between 50 and 70 fatalities are recorded each year. Most people seem to think equipment failure is common, but it really isn't; the majority of accidents are caused by simple mistakes and errors. For the fully trained, the fatality average is 1 in 100,000 jumps. Compare that, for example, with driving your car; if you drive 10,000 miles per year, your chance of dying in a car wreck in any given year is something like 1 in 6,000.

Abbie knew all that, we'd talked about it many times but, as she began to insist, for some completely unknown reason, the risk of accidents and fatalities are much greater for females than they are for males. So she stopped. Her final one had been the tandem jump we'd made together on her 24th birthday, just a couple of months after our first anniversary.

For the first couple of weeks after that she came with me to watch (I thought it was more likely that she wanted to keep an eye on what Samantha might be up to than anything else), but then she said it was more nerve-wracking to watch than it was to be doing it, and she left me to go on my own. Of course, I was perfectly prepared to give it up, but she was insistent that she wanted me to continue as long as I was enjoying it.

The surprising thing about it was that, the second week she went along to watch, Samantha was also on her own. Apparently, Gerald had injured his back by falling off a horse and it was going to be a long, slow process of healing before he'd be fit enough to strap a parachute on again, but Abbie didn't seem all that bothered that Samantha and I were both unaccompanied. So it was that I kept pursuing my hobby and my usual companion became Samantha, rather than my wife.

Now, don't go getting the wrong idea. Samantha and I were getting on very well together by this time. She'd changed beyond all recognition from the snotty snob I'd first met and, as well as becoming a pretty good business woman, she was good fun to be with. We had a lot of laughs and we got on well with one another -- but that was all.

Did I fancy her? You can bet your ass I did! Did she fancy me? I was pretty sure by this time that she did. Was either of us likely to do anything about it? Not a chance! We became very good pals and we talked a lot, and we sometimes confided in one another. Which is how, one Sunday afternoon when we'd been able to enjoy the benefit of some friendly thermal currents to float in the air for ages instead of hurrying earthwards, I found it hard to understand why she was looking so depressed afterwards.

We were sitting in the little clubhouse sipping cool soft drinks (they wouldn't serve any alcohol until all the day's flights had been completed) and I tried to find out what was wrong with her. At first, she denied there was anything but, after a bit of gentle probing and a good deal of patience, she finally said:

"Okay, then... what would you do, Robbie, if you thought your partner was cheating on you?"

"What... you mean...?"

"I don't know... I really don't," she insisted, "but I think Gerald might be having an affair."

"Good God! Really?" I responded; surprised, and not at all sure that I wanted to explore any further.

"Yes... really," she answered with a forced smile, and then, "Look, Robbie... I don't want to be a pain or anything, but I need to talk to someone I can trust and... well, there aren't all that many I can think of at the moment."

"Oh, surely...."

"No, I mean it. At work, they're all a bit intimidated because of who and what I am... and I've become more and more disillusioned with our so-called 'social set' in recent years. I dare say a lot of women in my position would turn to their mothers but... well, let's not go there!"

That caused me a wry smile. Her mother had never been concerned with anything as much as her position in the social scale. From what I understood, she'd pushed hard to get Samantha and Gerald together because he came from the 'right kind of family;' one that had 'old money' to give an air of respectability to their more recently acquired wealth. I'd actually been nervous that the old witch would be left with a majority shareholding when her husband died, because I'd had a couple of unpleasant run-ins with her in the past. So I just nodded my understanding.

"You're about the only one who's ever treated me the way I deserved, Robbie. No, don't deny it! When I used to behave like a bitch around the office, you were always prepared to treat me like one and to put me in my place... even though you did it with a light touch. You were also prepared to offer praise on the odd occasions I deserved it.

"You may speak quietly, Robbie... but you don't take crap from anyone. And you sort out problems in your own quiet way... you don't go bleating to other people and I know for a fact that you don't take any interest in gossip and scandal. There're lots of other things, too, Robbie... and the fact is that I've come to regard you as someone I can trust. You're probably the only one, to be honest."

"Whew! I'm honoured!" I said, probably sounding a bit facetious but, when I realised her eyes were glistening with unshed tears, I went on, "Look... I am your friend, Sammy. I wouldn't have said that when I first met you... you were a pain in those days... but you've changed a lot since then; a hell of a lot, to be honest! If there's anything I can do to help you... well... y'know," I ended lamely.

"What I need is for you to promise that you won't tell anyone what I'm going to say, Robbie... can you do that?" I started to nod, but she added, "Even your Abbie," and I had to think about it for a moment. I don't like keeping secrets but, as long as it didn't directly affect her, I reasoned there wouldn't be any harm done. Finally, then, I agreed and gave her my word that it would remain in confidence. Even though there was no one near us, she kept her voice low as she began:

"You're probably aware that things aren't all they should be between me and Gerald... and since you're no fool, you've probably realised that we haven't been happy together for some time."

Well, maybe I was a fool, but it simply hadn't occurred to me. I disliked the man intensely -- I thought him to be a poseur, an idler and a complete prick -- but I don't normally look at other couples to see if I think they're happy or not; I've never regarded it as any of my business. So I kept quiet and let her carry on.

"The thing is, everything was fine at first. I mean, it seemed that we were two equals, y'know? My dad was never too sure of Gerald, but Mum thought he was ideal. She said 'at least you can be sure he's not just after your money.'

"But she was wrong, Robbie. I soon found he was close to being penniless when we got married but... well, y'know how it is... he spun me a line about having hard luck with supposedly secure investments, about being cheated by unscrupulous partners... oh, all kinds of things.

"Of course, I was still in love with him and I suppose I was a bit naïve. I swallowed it all... hook, line and sinker! It didn't take Daddy long to suss him out. He gave him jobs that weren't too demanding; ones that he couldn't screw up... and he paid him far more than it was worth; but he made me promise that I wouldn't let him fritter away what Dad worked so hard to provide.

"Before the end of our first year together, I discovered that he was playing around... there was one of the secretaries in a legal outfit that he wined and dined when he said he was entertaining clients. Remember, you queried his expenses? He was terrified you'd come to me about it... but you never did. You didn't have to... he was scared enough to drop her like a hot brick and it gave him another reason to hate you, Robbie."

"So... since I didn't tell you...?" I queried.

"I found out by examining your notes. Oh, I know that no one examines them normally... who the hell would examine everything an accountant writes? But you were always very thorough... I remember you telling me how important that was in business... so I examined them. Don't look guilty, Robbie... I already knew about that one... your notes only confirmed it. Anyway, there were others after that. I could never prove any of them, of course... and at least he stopped trying to use the company account to finance his dirty deeds.

"He denied it all whenever I challenged him, of course. He just claimed that his position as head of sales meant that he had to do a lot of out-of-hours entertaining."

"That was never more than a nominal position," I said quietly.

"I realised that eventually. It was just something my dad gave him to make it look as if he was useful. I know now that it was Freddie Watson who brought in most of the new business."

She paused, so I intervened with: "So... if you knew was having affairs, why did you put up with it? And why have you suddenly decided...?"

"I put up with it," she almost whispered, "partly because I couldn't face the kind of conflict it would cause with my mother... but also because I didn't want to share the same bed with him anymore. We'd had a big row because he has some very weird... well, I won't go into that. Suffice it to say that it was a tremendous row and it's ended up with us mostly sleeping in separate rooms now.

"As for your second question, all of those affairs he had were brief things that clearly weren't all that important to him. Mostly, they were with friends' wives... I think he got some kind of kick out of it. I think it fed his superiority complex or whatever it was. Or maybe he just tried to hide his inadequacy by notching up loads of conquests. Anyway, it was fairly obvious that they didn't mean anything very much to him.

"But... well, whatever he's involved with now seems to be far more serious."

"How can you tell?" I asked.

"It all started when he seemed to be spending a lot of time on his computer... actually, a pretty unreasonable amount of time. And when I took a look at it, I found there were all kinds of things that were protected by passwords. That worried me a bit. I mean, I tried to tell myself that he was more than likely looking at porn sites and didn't want me to know about it. But it nagged away at me until... well, this may sound a bit... y'know... but I got an old school friend who's a bit of a genius with stuff like that to help me break into it.

"I didn't tell her the truth of what it was about, of course. I just told her it belonged to someone I suspected of giving confidential information about our contract quotes to a rival. Anyway, she added some clever little piece of equipment to it and, about a week later, she came back, removed the device, and gave me a list of all the passwords. She made it look so easy.

"Anyway... once I had them, it didn't take long to find out that there were e-mails flying back and forth between Gerald and some tart who calls herself 'Mrs Hotandwet.' I downloaded copies and read them all; there're hundreds of them! And they go back to over six months ago.

"I mean, most of them... especially the early ones, were exactly what you'd expect. Y'know, there were the slushy declarations of love; but then loads of crude ones about the things they wanted to do together and how much they'd enjoy it. Those ones made me shudder. I mean, I'm not a prude or anything, Robbie... but...."

"I'm sorry... I really am, Sammy," I said as she pulled out a small handkerchief and wiped tears away from her eyes as discreetly as she could.

"The thing is though, Robbie... I could have taken all that. In a way I was glad that he had someone else to indulge all his disgusting... well, y'know... at least it meant that I didn't have to. But, the thing is, that the most recent ones have started to frighten me.

"They've started to talk about how they'll both be free to be together soon. They keep mentioning a 'plan' of some kind to put me and her husband 'out of the way' ... although they don't specify what the plan's about. There's even a couple of them where she reminds him that the whole thing has to be put in writing so he can't try to dump her once she helps him to 'come into his fortune.' I'm scared, Robbie... I'm really scared."

"Why haven't you gone to the police?" I asked.

"Because it would probably end up making me look like a fool. If they had to, I'm sure they'd say it was just a game of some kind... some kind of weird turn on. They could say that it was nothing more than online chat... that they were just talking about fantasies and nothing had ever happened. And anyway... there's no direct threat to harm me, is there... not when you really think about it?"

"And you've no idea who this woman is?"

"No... I've no idea at all. At first, I thought it might be one of the girls on our fundraising committee for the local hospice... I know she fancies Gerald. But I ruled her out when I saw one of the reports she'd written. Whoever 'Mrs Hotandwet' is, she nearly always gets the 'e' and 'i' the wrong way round when she writes words like 'relief,' and she never bothers with capital letters at all. I think...."

It was at that point that some of the other members joined us, fresh from their own adrenaline hit and ready to talk for hours about the joys of sailing through the sky, so we had to leave the discussion where it was. I eventually had to go, and I just said 'take care of yourselves' to all of them, but Sammy knew I was really addressing her when I said it.

I was deep in thought as I drove home and, to be honest, if I hadn't given my word to Samantha, I wondered whether I would normally have talked it over with Abbie. Mind you, even then it might not have happened because we were going through what some married couples might describe as a bit of a 'rough patch' at the time.

After our first few months together I'd discovered two things about Abbie that I didn't really like very much: the first was that she couldn't help flirting with other men. It wasn't a major problem -- it was just that she seemed to attract them without even having to try - and once she fixed them with those smouldering brown eyes they just turned into puppy dogs begging to be petted. I guess I couldn't really blame her for lapping up the attention -- especially if the man was good-looking -- and she never crossed the line in anyway. By that, I mean that she was always quick to introduce me as her husband and to make sure I was always fully included in any resulting conversation. But it often made me uncomfortable the way they looked at her -- and then at me, with a look that said 'I wish you weren't here, pal!' We talked about it a few times but she always said the same things: "It doesn't mean anything. He was just flirting with me. I didn't invite him over. Did you want me to be rude to him? Don't you like it when other men find me attractive? I wasn't exactly showing any cleavage and I've got a decent length of skirt on; and, If I still wasn't happy it would be: "For fuck's sake, Robbie! D'you want me to wear a fucking burkha when we go out?"

So I bit the bullet -- sort of. I still wasn't happy about it; I made it very clear that I wasn't, and she started showing a lot more restraint. Everything settled down for a week or two but it came to a head again on the day my car was in for a service and she came to collect me from work. If I'd been in my own office, I wouldn't have been able to see her arrive and park by the employees entrance; but I happened to be in Freddie Watson' office discussing a large contract he was trying for in Belgium and trying to find a way of cutting the transportation costs.