Decisions, Decisions

"Who are they playing at the Rugby club today?"

It was like a dagger!

"Oh I'm not sure. I'm not going in any case -- I've got some plans for us -- I hope you're free. You are, aren't you?"

I almost enjoyed her flustered response that she thought so.

"Good! Because this afternoon we have to make a big decision. Hawaii, South Africa, Australia, Peru, Thailand. You name it and we can be there the first week of your summer holidays!"

Sandie smiled and gave me a hug.

"That sounds wonderful."

By mid morning I was showered and dressed and was just thinking about mowing the lawn. I was also feeling pretty good because Plan A seemed to have got off to a good start. I went downstairs -- not deliberately quiet, but I guess I didn't make much noise. I pushed open the kitchen door and Sandie jumped, she obviously hadn't heard me. She had her mobile in her hand:

"Christ Alan, you scared the shit out of me. Creeping about like that."

I smiled, apologised and generally acted cool, and pretended I hadn't noticed the phone. I told her it was her turn and went to go outside as she started up the stairs. I turned and followed her, making some comments about the twins and when they'd be home. I wanted to stay with her until she went to shower, she'd have to put the phone down -- it would look seriously odd if she took it into the bathroom. In the end, I won. She popped the phone into her drawer and went to get showered. I waited until I heard the shower going then quickly grabbed it and went to text messages. Nothing to Simon in the inbox -- she was obviously deleting them as she went. But there was one in her sent messages. To Simon -- all it said was:

"I'll try xx"

Ah well, it was always too much to hope for that you get the contract straight away."

I replaced the phone and went to mow, feeling more sad than betrayed, and wondering what she was going to try. My guess was he'd suggested an alternative meeting and she said she'd try and get there.

With the lawn mowed and Sandie showered, I did a quick change and we headed off to book the holiday of a lifetime. After a leisurely light lunch and coffee we hit the Travel Agents. We'd been discussing things in the car on the way and over lunch, and we'd pretty much decided on something quite active. In the end we settled for the Andes and the Galapagos. three weeks altogether with some walking and sightseeing on the South American mainland, then fly out and board a luxury yacht as we travel round the Galapagos.

Dates set, deposit paid we fell out of the shop giggling like teenagers. I gave her a huge hug -- yesterday's horrors seemed to belong to someone else's life. We walked hand in hand down the High Street to the car park. Funny, holding hands was something we had always done; it was an instinctive reaction whenever we set off anywhere on foot.

"Okay", I said, "where shall we go out to dinner to celebrate?"

There was a pause and for the briefest of moments, Sandie stopped.

"Oh, err, I ... was going to go out with a few girls from work tonight."

The silence didn't last long before Sandie continued -- speaking far too fast to be natural:

"I was going to mention it last night, but of course ..." she shrugged and let the sentence hang itself. Then:

"But it's okay, I don't need to go, we can go out!"

She turned to me with a smile the reeked of sympathy. The eyes always give you away though.

Decisions, decisions. Do I play hardball and see just how keen she is to see Simon (I was pretty sure that was her plan), or do I give in easily?

I couldn't believe the words coming out of my mouth:

"No, no -- if you said you'd go, you should go. We'll have plenty of time to celebrate later."

She shook her head. I stopped and held her shoulders -- forcing her to make eye contact.

"It's okay, you've got a date with your girl friends..." (I think I may have put a bit too much emphasis on the "girl" bit), "so you go. It's really okay."

I didn't add that I'd be pretty close behind her. She broke the eye contact:

"Well, if you're sure you don't mind?"

I squeezed her hand whilst feeling the pit of my stomach give way:

"Definitely! You go and have some ..."

I was about to say fun, but for some reason my mind inserted:

"... excitement!"

She glanced back at me and gave me that weak smile again. This time accompanied by a puzzled look and a little nod.

The bubbly mood we had shared since lunchtime was now flat champagne. We talked, we held hands still -- like I said, old habits and all that -- but the warmth, the closeness, had gone.

I lay on the bed while Sandie got dressed. With every minute the tightness across my chest went in another notch. I really did feel so tense, so afraid I thought I would be sick. I could stop it all.

Should I just say something?

Decisions, decisions.

No, this was an easy one. If I stopped her seeing Simon, there would just be someone else later. It was, as we say in business, time for "root cause analysis". Get to the bottom, the cause of her wanting Simon. Somehow that didn't make me feel any better. It made me feel even worse when I realised just how stunning she looked.

"You look great," I said, "far too good for the girls. I thought it would be jeans and tee shirt time."

She mumbled back something about not wanting to be outdone. My emotions were so screwed up I didn't know if teasing her like that and watching her discomfort, was making me feel better or worse. In the end, she declared herself ready, and I asked her if she needed a lift. She smiled back:

"No, I won't be drinking -- well, I'll make a glass of wine last half the night and then hit the J2O's."

"Okay. Where are you off to anyway?"

I wanted it to sound like a normal, casual question. But it felt like the Spanish Inquisition.

She replied they were meeting at the Stag and Hounds. Good choice. Busy Saturday night pub, quite often have a live band, and a good middle aged crowd. Not a place full of Magners swilling kids. Sandie grabbed her car keys, gave me a smile with barest hint of eye contact, gave me a peck on the cheek, and left.

I watched as she got into her car, her perfume still filling the air. The inescapable, gorgeous smell of Sandie.

As soon as her car door shut I sprinted to put on my trainers and grab my coat, car keys and wallet. I'd have to be quick if I wasn't to lose her. I had no guarantee the Stag and Hounds was her real destination. I watched her reverse out and drive off -- it was in the right direction, so that was a plus. As soon as I knew she'd be out of sight, I dashed out, slammed the door and jumped in my car.

It was dusk and late Spring, so cars had their lights on though you could still see reasonably well. But Sandie's silver Golf was nowhere to be seen.

Damn!

I drove the few miles to the Stag and Hounds, and parked about fifty metres away, on the forecourt of a Post Office. I put on the dark jacket I'd brought and a dark blue New York Yankees baseball cap. I got out of the car and walked towards the pub car park. I could hear the noise of "The Granites" bashing out a cover of a Stereophonics song. I walked all round the car park -- there was a silver Golf, but not Sandie's. I headed back the short distance to my car thinking how I should go about a search, when a silver Golf flashed by, indicating it was turning into the pub. I watched as Sandie drove in and parked.

And then, you could have knocked me down with a feather.

Out of the passenger door stepped Debbie, one of the other teachers at Sandie's school.

A huge weight lifted from my shoulders. The sickness in the pit of my stomach and the ache in my chest disappeared in a flash. Then another emotion got me. Guilt. I should have had more faith that my plan was going to have a quick effect.

Oh God, no!

Sandie had got out of the car, but had left the engine running. She walked round to Debbie, talked to her for a minute, they hugged and Sandie got back in.

The weight, the sickness and the ache returned - in spades!

I jogged to my car. I definitely didn't want to lose her this time. The Golf swung out and down the road, away from me. The road was quiet, so following her was easy. It was only a couple of miles -- I should have guessed -- Sandie drove into the Three Frogs, the pub by the river that was mentioned in the email. I parked round the corner and sprinted to the car park. I was just in time to see them. Simon had his arm around her and they were talking, heading for the pub door. Just as they got to the door, they stopped and kissed. They locked eyes, he said something to her, she laughed and they went in.

Imagining a scene like that and actually being there are very different. The remains of my tea soon found its way to the bushes. Having recovered a few minutes later, I walked round the car park -- Sandie's Golf was parked at the far end -- away from all the other cars, apart from a BMW 4x4.

Oh Sandie, not with someone who drives one of those things.

I was almost more mad at her choice of lover (I have always considered people who drive 4x4's around town complete prats), than I was at the fact that she had one in the first place!

I found a bench on the riverbank that I could sit on, and still be able to see the pub door. All day my worst fears had been pretty much realised. And right now my over-riding fear was that Sandie and Simon would reappear quite quickly, jump into his car and head off to some dark spot or (if the bastard had some style) a hotel.

Christ! Does the pub have any rooms? Is it a hotel?

I scanned all the signs outside. Food, Football Matches televised, bar staff wanted; then I breathed a sigh of relief -- no accommodation signs. And for once, my worst fears were not realised. It was almost two hours before, arm in arm, Simon and Sandie came out of the pub. I went back to my car and waited. What would it be? A BMW with two people in? Or a Golf and a BMW going their separate ways. In the event, it was neither. I waited ten minutes, and decided to go and see.

The car park had emptied a little, but my two targets were still there. The light shone so that I could make out Sandie's car was unoccupied. But I couldn't see anything in the BMW -- the windows were far too steamed up.

If there had been any more tea for me to bring up, I would have. I almost, oh so nearly, ran to the beamer and dragged my wife out. But I didn't. She wanted excitement, but I suspected maybe that would have been too much excitement for her.

I made a decision. I could stand the torture no longer. I turned on my heels, resisted the temptation to look back, got to my car and set off home.

If you told me I'd run three people down on the way back, I'd probably believe you. Autopilot doesn't come close to describing it. The quiet as I turned off the engine was what brought me out of the trance. I went inside, brushed my teeth (I hate being sick), and then got myself a beer, fed a noisy Mollie on the way, and turned on Match Of The Day. I'd been home 20 minutes when I saw Sandie's car's lights turn into the drive. I jumped up, I didn't want to give her any chance to compose herself before coming in.

"Hey, have a good time?" I shouted from the doorstep as she opened the car door.

"Yeah, it was okay."

"Well, I hope that it was a bit more than 'okay' considering you gave up an evening of celebration with me."

She smiled, straightened her skirt and casually moved it round, back into place as she walked to the front door. It was so nonchalant that if I hadn't been looking for signs, I wouldn't have noticed. I barred her way and stooped to make her kiss me as she went in. I wanted her to feel massively guilty that she had been ... what? Well at least kissing ... someone else not ten minutes ago. As I lifted my head from the kiss I noticed a real giveaway -- she had missed out a button on her blouse when she had done it up.

Well looks like Simon at least got to play with the nipples again! And I suspect a bit more.

I asked her if she wanted some chocolate or tea but she replied she was tired and was going to bed.

"Good idea -- I'll come too."

"Aren't you watching the football?"

I shook my head and told her I couldn't be bothered. I turned off the TV and headed upstairs. When we got to the bedroom, I looked at her:

"Christ Sandie, have you been like that all night?"

"Like what?"

"Flashing your admittedly very gorgeous tits to all the men in the pub."

The panic in her eyes was evident, but to her credit she held it together.

"It can't have been noticeable -- one of the girls would have told me."

"Well, I got a nice eyeful. Hey sexy, come over here and let me get a nice handful."

She'd started to unbutton the blouse, to get rid of the evidence I supposed, and then said:

"Down boy, I'm off to the bathroom."

Sandie was a while -- she had a shower, not that unusual in the evening, and came out wearing her pale blue, silk pyjamas. I showered quickly, and soon joined her in bed.

When you've been married twenty years, you know the signals without any kind of verbal interaction. You know the "are you interested in it tonight" moves, and the "yes", "no" and "maybe" responses. My questioning caress was met with an equally gentle put off. Almost all of the time that would have meant we just settled down and went to sleep. But not tonight. The reason she'd be saying "no" was Simon, and the associated guilt. I wanted her to feel that -- to feel guilty about turning me down tonight, knowing that it was because she'd been with someone else.

I tried again.

"Not tonight babe. I really am tired -- tomorrow. Promise."

Then she kissed me on the cheek, turned away from me and settled down to sleep.

Day two of Plan "Get Sandie Back" dawned late Spring bright -- perfect for what I had planned. As I thought about the plans I realised what had woken me up. Mollie was jumping from me to Sandie in an attempt to get one of us up. I moved my arm round Sandie's torso:

"Are you faking it?"

"Yes", she replied through her teeth.

"How do you know I was talking about being asleep?"

As Sandie rolled over to face me two things happened -- both by accident. Mollie went flying from the bed, and my hand slipped inside her pyjama top. She kissed me:

"I never have to fake it with you."

I kissed her back as my hand caressed her breast and I fought back a cutting response. A dozen came into my head -- along with images of a steamed up 4x4 and Simon's hands unbuttoning Sandie's blouse and doing exactly what mine was doing now.

Mollie jumped back on the bed and started wailing the way only hungry, impatient cats can. I inched away to get up and feed her. Sandie grabbed my neck and pulled me back.

"Sod the bloody cat, I need you more ..."

It was almost mid morning by the time Mollie got her Whiskas. As I moved away from Sandie there was a mutual "ouch" as our stuck together bodies parted.

"Christ, I think I just lost a layer of skin," she grinned at me, "but it was worth it. You have no idea how much I needed that!"

I smiled down at her.

Well, that probably means one thing -- they may have had a good old grope around in the 4x4, but they didn't do it.

As I walked down the stairs I was beginning to feel a bit used. Was I the consolation prize? Had I just been used as a Simon substitute?

Well if I have, it was pretty damn hot. And I think Sandie enjoyed it a lot too! Tough Simon, I think the home team just equalised.

I was just getting breakfast sorted when Sandie appeared in one of my T shirts. Women just look sexy as hell in oversized T shirts -- and what's more they bloody know it. I looked at her:

"You know, I think I fancy you even more than I did twenty years ago. And if we didn't have a full day, I'd take you back to bed now. Actually, I wouldn't -- it would be the kitchen table."

She giggled that it had been a long time since we had made a point of christening every room in the house. I started to laugh.

"What?" she asked.

"I was just thinking of how we couldn't stop laughing when did the downstairs loo. I was nearly in traction after those contortions."

She walked over, kissed me and looked into my eyes. For the first time in two days I felt I was again looking into my wife's gorgeous green eyes, and not those of another woman.

"Well I had bruises on my bum for a week! But it was fun. Anyway, what's all this about a busy day, we've nothing planned."

"You just be ready to leave at 12:30 -- casual dress is fine."

She looked at me with a very suspicious but 'excited little girl' expression.

"Ooookaaay."

All through breakfast she tried to find out what was planned, where we were going. But I held firm. In truth I was loving it -- her reaction was better even than I'd hoped for when I'd hatched the plan on the sofa on Saturday morning. I showered first and came down as Sandie emerged from the study. I didn't ask her what she'd been doing in there -- but I started to feel that anxiety and tightness across my chest. She went up to get ready, kissing me as we passed at the foot of the stairs.

I left it a minute or two, then got the laptop and logged on ... to Sandie's account. There was the e-mail sent ten minutes ago -- in the deleted items folder.

"Hi

I need to see you. Soon. I have a parents' evening tomorrow, and Alan and I are meeting two old friends for dinner Tuesday. Can you do Wednesday after work? Six o'clock at the same place?

S xx"

I closed my eyes, the roller coaster my emotions were experiencing had just done a triple loop.

How can she do this to me? Did the last couple of hours mean absolutely nothing to her?

I was beginning to think that I might not win this contract after all.

But the fat lady isn't singing yet! You decided to fight for her, so give it your best shot.

The Sunday afternoon and evening I had planned went like clockwork. Having walked to the station, we got the train to Waterloo. First there were tickets to the latest exhibition at the British Museum. Sandie, who has a History degree, had been going on and on about how she wanted to see it. She loved it and we bought half the souvenir shop on the way out.

We followed that with a light dinner, and then a champagne trip on the London Eye. Neither of us had ever been on it, though we had often said we ought to do it. We both loved it. The sun was going down, and the lights of London were coming on. The City twinkled in the half light and the Wembley arch shone, but not as much as Sandie's eyes had when she turned to hug me and thank me for a wonderful day.

That evening we showered together, and then took another layer of skin off ....

We were all hugs and smiles at breakfast. Through a mouthful of cereal I managed to decipher that Sandie would be late as she had a parents' evening, and that she was reminding me we were out with Terry and Jill for a Chinese tomorrow.

"Anything Wednesday?" I asked in the most casual fashion I could muster.

"Just a meeting after work -- won't be late though."

I nodded a response and ten minutes later we were in our cars and off to work.

Everyone was in a buoyant mood at work -- still in the afterglow of the contract victory. My mood was in contrast, I just couldn't figure it out. Sandie and I had had a terrific weekend, but she still wanted to see her would be lover "soon". Maybe it was going to be a really long fight, and I would have to wait for her to get bored with him -- or me.

No. That's not going to happen -- I'm not going to have a long drawn out fight for her. Sandie must realise soon that she is going to have to make a decision. Him or me.

"What's the matter with you, Mr Grumpy?"