Good Year For The Roses

"I honestly couldn't see that I've got much chance of collecting it, your honour; unless Margery ever returns to the country." I replied.

The Judge lent forward and had a short whispered conversation with his clerk, then shuffled some papers as he looked for something on his desk.

"I think we'll make an interim order for one hundred pounds a month anyway. It's a nominal figure to establish precedent only. Like you, I very much doubt that you will ever receive it. But if Mrs Thomas returns to this courts jurisdiction then we can adjust the figure accordingly at a future date. I suggest that you have your legal representatives look into any assets Mrs Thomas might still have in the UK."

That was it; I walked out of that court a single man and with all the assets of the marriage. And apparently any other assets that Margery had in the country if I wished, assuming that we could find them. I never did bother looking.

---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

Checking the call log at home the following Monday, I noted that an international call had come in the previous day; probably whilst I'd been mowing the lawn, that would explain why I hadn't heard the telephone ringing.

The call had obviously come from Margery; she was the only person who called from outside the country. The odd thing was, neither Otterley nor Rachel had mentioned that call to me, and they didn't - as they usually did - relay Margery's then whereabouts to me either.

You can read what you like into them failing to do so; but I know what I read into it. Although, because Otterley hadn't been in court that week -- I tried not to make a big thing about the divorce to her -- I did wonder how the girls knew about the twenty-one day bit. I doubted the social worker - who'd been appointed by the court to look after her interests - would have told her.

---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

As time passed Margery's calls to Otterley became more and more infrequent. I wasn't really surprised because -- from the few that were within my earshot -- I discovered that they were very one-sided affairs. Not counting subtle enquiries from my daughter as to exactly where in the world Margery was; but even those stopped once her fancy man's divorce was settled.

As an aside, I have no clue as to how Otterley or Rachel discovered that bit of information, about his divorce being settled that is. I think I concluded that - being local - his children most probably attended the same school as the girls; maybe all the children colluded together and exchanged information. But if they did, the girls never said anything to me.

I suppose the same reasoning could be used to explain the information the girls originally had about the "whom" and when etc. when Margery first made her announcement and moved out. Adults can all too easily underestimate their children's understanding of exactly what is going on.

---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

I can't remember now, I think the divorce had been final for about four months. I had taken Otterley and Rachel to the cinema one Saturday afternoon and we were enjoying hamburgers in the local McD's when Rachel announced that she and her mother were soon to be moving home.

I, of course, innocently enquired why, and was informed by Rachel that the lease on their flat was up for renewal, but her mother thought the landlord wanted to hike-up the rent too much.

No, at the time I didn't see or understand what was going on, or that there was yet another conspiracy in the offing. Come-on they were two nine-year-old children, conning an ice cream or two out of me, or even a day out, was to be expected. Them coming up with the idea, and planning to con me into inviting Andorra and Rachel to move in with Otterley and me, was something I'd never even contemplated.

They sprang the trap on the following Friday evening when we were all eating the meal Andorra had prepared before she went off to do her shift at the cab office.

Otterley - apparently innocently - asking Andorra whether she'd found a suitable flat yet. Before Andorra had a chance to reply, Rachel started relating horror stories about the places they'd seen. Although Andorra did manage to get out that they weren't quite as bad as Rachel described them.

For some reason I missed the point completely that if Rachel had seen those flats, then so had Otterley, because the two girls were always together, no matter which of us -- either Andorra or I -- were looking after them.

Then Otterley dropped in the suggestion that - had I been a little more sceptical - I should have seen coming a mile away.

"Da--ad, we've got the guest room going spare upstairs." Otterley pointed out. "Why can't Rachel and aunt Andorra move in here with us? Rachel has her own bed in my room anyway and it would save us having to keep moving from house to house."

Actually I must admit that I thought that, Otterley's idea wasn't a bad one. It would save a lot of chasing about and Andorra having to pay the rent on her flat, amongst other things.

I looked at Andorra for guidance but she avoided locking eyes with me. It was an embarrassing situation I found myself in. Had I rejected the suggestion immediately Andorra could well have taken umbrage. But then again Andorra might not like the idea and I could put her in an embarrassing position if I placed the ball in her court. I decided the safest way out was to murky the waters a little.

"Um well, Sweetheart. You see... well... sometimes there can be problems when a man and woman who aren't married to each other live in the same house. You know, some people might get the wrong idea." I stuttered out.

Surprisingly it was Andorra who giggled. "Christ, Pete; you sound like a real prude."

"I'm not, Andorra; I was just thinking of your reputation."

"My reputation... you must be kidding! Do you want to know the real reason why we're being pushed out of our flat? It's because I disappear on Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights every week. What's more, I used to be dropped home by a taxi in the mornings, and now I drive around in a brand new car."

"I don't understand; the Nissan's not new!"

"It is, next to some of my neighbours' cars. Some of them are pretty well convinced that I could only afford a car like that if I did a certain type of night work." Andorra sat waiting for me to digest what she had said, with a coy expression on her face.

"You're kidding me!" I gasped.

"No I'm not, they wrote to my landlord. I've told all of them that I work for the taxi company, Christ I've even talked to some of them when they've phoned for a cab; but the rumours still persist."

"Oh my god the sooner you're out of there, the better."

"My thought's exactly, but finding another decent flat that I can afford, isn't as easy as it sounds."

"Well what about Otterley's idea then, there is plenty of room here?"

"Are you sure? You didn't sound too enthusiastic."

"Yes I'm sure I am. This place is pretty much like a morgue without the girls around, and besides you ain't half as bad a cook as I am."

"Should I take that as a compliment?"

"In relation to my cooking yeah. The room's there if you want it, Andorra; and by the look on these two faces, they can't wait." I said gesturing towards the two grinning faces of the children.

"We'll have to discuss rent!" Andorra suggested.

"No, I don't think we will. House keeping isn't one of my favourite pastimes and I've already said, you make a better cook than I do. How about you becoming a sort-a cook-come-housekeeper here."

"Pete I'd do that anyway, but I'd have to pay you something... towards the heating, electricity and council tax at least." Andorra insisted.

"Let's leave that until a later date; at the moment I have to ask you if you're sure you want to move in here."

"If you are inviting us, then yes I'd... we'd love to!"

Then let's say the deal's done. When do you want to move in? Oh yeah, what about, er... well this place is furnished."

"Oh don't worry; most of my stuff isn't worth worrying about. A lot of it can be ditched. I sold all the good stuff years ago just after Tony went, when I was short of cash."

"Oh what happened?" I asked. But the look Andorra gave me told me she would tell me when the children weren't around. I'd been married to Margery long enough to recognise the expression.

I was aware that Andorra's husband had been killed in a road accident some years before, but I had never known the details.

A little later as we went to walk Andorra out to Nissan; I heard a distinct slapping sound behind me and swung around to see what it was. Only to find Otterley and Rachel standing there looking back at me, with butter wouldn't melt in their mouths expressions on their face.

---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

The girls moved in during the following week. Most of Andorra's furniture was ditched, but some found its way into the house. Other stuff was stored in the back of the garage. And her TV and music centre found their way into the girls' bedroom.

The house suddenly became a full time home again. Even the guys at work commented on the improvement in my demeanour. There was also the odd comment about me not joining them for a drink after work so often. But I had a daughter... well two daughters to get home to read bedtime stories to every night.

Oh yeah, my travelling days had all but come to an end when Marge left. Not knowing how things were going to work out, I'd kind-a put my foot down a little; my boss caved and started to send some of the other guys instead of me. I just didn't volunteer to travel anymore, if I could help it.

It wasn't very long after Andorra moved in that I began to fall in love with the woman, although I thought I was very good at not showing it at the time.

Well what did you expect? Andorra was a pretty tasty piece of real estate by anyone's measure. Maybe a year or so younger than me, she seemed to be able to present herself immaculately no matter what she was - or wasn't - wearing; all right I'd seen her pass between the guest room and bathroom a few times wrapped only in a bath sheet, but that was all!

Andorra had a killer sense of humour and never did seem to get upset with the girls -- or me -- no matter what the little minx's got up to. She apparently turned a blind eye to my, er, idiosyncrasies. Look, I never claimed to be no bleeding angel to live with.

Mind I had been taken with Andorra from the first time I laid eyes on her, so it was to be expected.

I think that Carol was the first to realise that I was hooked that Christmas; she and Frank had brought their brood around for Boxing Day. Andorra was fussing over the dinner she was cooking.

"Have you told her yet?" Carol asked as we laid the table in the dining room together.

"Told who, what?" I replied.

"Andorra of course, brother!"

"Sorry kiddo, you've lost me. What am I supposed to have told her?"

"That you're in love with her, stupid." Carol announced.

"Do what? Don't be silly Carol."

"Oh come on, Pete; I can read you like a book. You're even more hooked on Andorra than you were on Stephanie Mathers!"

Oh, I'd better explain Stephanie Mathers. She had been my first love when we were all back at school together. A friend of Carol's, I worshiped the ground the girl walked on for several years before I got up the courage to ask her out. She led me on for a while and then broke my heart when she dumped me out of hand.

Stephanie was immediately and irrevocably declared, persona-non-gratis by my sister and her friends. Several of whom, consoled me over the following months. Jesus, they made sure that I soon forgot about Stephanie in a hurry.

"Of course I've grown attached to her; she's a very nice person, Carol. But I'm in a delicate situation here; the status quo suits both of us. If I do anything to upset the equilibrium... Jesus, I could really upset the apple cart!"

"Peter, the woman's stuck on you just as much as you are on her. Christ the pair of you dance around each other like a pair of lovelorn school kids."

"What the hell are you on about, Carol?"

"Pete, to get from one side of the room to the other, both of you will go the long way round so that's there's no chance of you actually -- god forbid - touching each other."

"So we don't want to encroach on each others personal space."

"Bullshit! There's only two reasons that two people sharing the same house together do that kind of thing. Either you hate each other, which I somehow doubt because no one has ever heard a cross word pass between you... or you're in love with each other. And don't try to give me any crap; you never exchange any suggestive jokes or anything. That's unusual for two people who spend so much time in such close proximity to each other. Think about all those jokes you exchange with the girls at the office. No, both of you are too scared of messing up what you've got."

"You think that Andorra's attracted to me then?"

"Oh my god, Pete; she does the same dance as you do. Christ the two of you are dancing to the same tune, even the girls can see that."

"So what do I do?"

"Buggered if I know Peter! Tell her how you feel I suppose. Come on she's not the first female you've been called to work that golden tongue of yours on. You were a dab hand at chatting girls up before you got hooked up with the bitch."

"You never liked Margery did you?"

"No, I never trusted her. Somehow I felt she twisted you around her little finger and then led you around by the nose. Much like Otterley and Rachel do now, but I doubt that you'll ever see that either. The difference is, those two little girls really do love you, something I never felt Margery ever did."

"Oh, you're mistaken, Carol; of course Margery loved me when we were married."

"Think what you like, Pete. You saw love. I saw a girl taking the easy ride; you had a bloody good job for a young man of your age and really brought home the bacon. Christ, Frank weren't earning half of your salary when I married him. I've always been convinced that all Margery ever saw in you, were pound signs."

"No you must be wrong, Carol."

"Whatever, it doesn't really matter now, does it? Peter, someone's given you a second chance at happiness; there's a woman in the kitchen who I'm pretty sure is in love with you. You're just going to have to find a way to break the ice."

Before the conversation could go any further we heard Andorra coming, she entered the dinning room to see how the preparations for the meal were going, so Carol and I had to change the subject.

During that meal, Carol kept catching my eye and making subtle gestures with her head towards Andorra. She also appeared to be enjoying a private joke with Otterley and Rachel; but I don't think anyone else noticed.

Over the next couple of days I almost broached the subject with Andorra a couple of times, but kept chickening out at the last minute.

---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

New Years Eve arrived and Andorra was working. Carol and Frank had taken the girls, so I could go to a party with some friends from the office. I didn't want to leave the girls but everyone insisted.

Conspiracy again, I don't think so, there were too many unconnected people involved. What happened that night must have just been coincidence?

It was about four in the morning and the party was winding down. Well, those who were going home had gone home and most everyone else had crashed anywhere handy.

Not spotting any comfortable looking vacant spots to crash out myself, and having consumed far too much falling down water to even contemplate driving home - well not if I wanted to get there in one piece anyway - I called for a cab.

"Hi beautiful, how 'bout sending one of the guys over to take me home." Maybe not the exact words I used, but near enough what I said to Andorra when she answered the phone at the taxi office.

"Are you pissed, Pete?" Andorra asked.

"You bet babe. I had trouble working out which of these two phones to call on."

"I'll have one of the boys there in five minutes."

"Thanks sweetheart."

"Oh and Pete!"

"Yes gorgeous?"

"Try not to throw-up all over the back seat."

"Have you ever seen me throw up when I'm pissed?"

"I've never seen you when you're drunk, Peter; I have no idea what you'd do?"

"You'd be surprised?"

"I bet I would. Now Phil's on his way and please don't make a mess of his car, we've got enough of the guys back here now trying to get the smell of puke out of their cars."

"Your word is my command my love."

"If you only meant that?"

"What?"

"Never mind, Phil's outside the front door now. How about you see if you can find your way to his car?" Andorra said laughing; then the line went dead.

"Jesus, Pete; you've had a bleeding skinful." Phil the driver - who obviously knew who I was, even if I had no idea who he was -- said as he helped me into the rear seat of his cab.

But as he started driving - even in my inebriated condition - I realised that he wasn't heading for my house.

"You're going the wrong way!" I told him, or to be more precise probably slurred at him.

"You're going to need someone to put you to bed me-ol'-mate, and I don't intended to do the honours. I think I know who's going to volunteer though. Its' pretty quiet now, one of the guys can sit on the bleeding phones for the rest of the night.

To be honest I think I must have fallen asleep then, because the next thing I remember is Phil and Andorra dragging me from the rear seat of the car. Okay maybe I did put the helplessness act on a little, especially when Andorra snuggled up close under my arm to help me to and through the door.

Although Phil's assistance was required for me to successfully negotiate the stairs to my bedroom. It was back to playing possum for me again once he'd disappeared and Andorra began to loosen my clothing in an attempt to make me comfortable.

You know you can get away with doing some stupid things when you're pie-eyed. Because your inhibitions are lowered you can find that you can get away with saying things that you'd never dare to voice sober. To me it appeared the perfect opportunity to try my luck. But maybe the booze didn't help me to choose the best words to use.

Suddenly the perfect opportunity presented itself. Andorra was leaning over me, and was looking straight into my eyes, at very short range.

"You know, you're one hell of a babe Andorra!" I mumbled out.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"That you're good enough to eat, and I'm hungry." I slurred, probably with a drunken grin on my face.

"Oh you are, are you? Well, I suspect that if you ate anything, you wouldn't be able to keep it down for very long. How much did you have to drink tonight?"

"Not enough!"

"Christ, Pete; you're as pissed as a newt."

"Yeah, but if I'd had a few more I might have the nerve to tell you how much I love you!"

A big smile came over Andorra's face. "I'll believe that, when you can say it to me sober. Now get some sleep and we'll see how bad your head is in the morning."

"Good night, Peter!" She added, then stood and went to leave the room.

"No you can't go!" I insisted. "I might be sick and I could choke to death."

"Oh well, where am I supposed to sleep then?"

I had managed to grab Andorra's arm as she stood and I gently pulled on it so that she fell onto the bed beside me, from where she didn't actually try to get up again. Nothing else was said and eventually I must have drifted off to sleep. Well, possibly quite quickly what with all that drink inside me.

Andorra was right; the daylight streaming through the bedroom windows didn't do my head any favours. And I was somewhat disappointed to find that she was no longer on the bed with me.