People Can Change Ch. 03

From the day that I threw my wife naked into the street because of my mistaken belief that she had starred in a porn movie, my life started on a a downward trend. I got a criminal record for assaulting her and I was forced to review the situation at work so that the business paid. It had taken a few years but I had turned things around. It was now four years since my divorce or four years AD as I had taken to calling it and things were looking up.

Business-wise things were really on a roll. So much so that Clare was pressing me to talk to a tax expert to ensure I didn't pay more than I had to. I gave up my flat and bought a three bedroomed house so the girls could come and stay with me. Things took a new turn. I was collecting some brake pads and discs when Eric called, asking me to drop in to our tyre supplier to get a pair of Pirelli Cinturato P7s . I picked up the tyres and headed back to the workshop. When I got there I was somewhat surprised to find a silver Aston Martin DB5 parked outside. Eric came out for the tyres and saw me looking at the car.

"Straight out of James Bond, innit?" he said.

"This is a great car," I said.

"Yeah," he said, "pity the driver's such an arsehole."

"You're jealous," I said.

"Jealous of what?" he asked. "Him having this car or him being an arsehole?"

I have to admit to being a bit surprised at the way Eric was talking about our customer. He had always been a bit blunt, but I'd never known him be offensive about a customer before. I went into the office to start getting all my invoices ready for Clare. I heard the Aston roar into the workshop and Eric started work on changing the tyres. Eric had just brought in the invoice for the Aston's tyres when a car pulled into the car park.

"Oh god, here comes the arsehole for the Aston," he said.

"I must have a chat to him. It must be great to drive a car like that," I said.

"You don't want to talk to him, he's an arsehole," he said and walked out the door.

I got up and walked to the door only to find it wouldn't open. Eric had locked the door. I watched him as he walked out into the car park. The guy got out of the passenger side of the car. He was about forty, five foot ten, slight of build with short blonde hair. He leaned back into the car and gave the driver a kiss. That was when I recognised her. The driver was Julie. I sat down with a thud and put my head in my hands. I knew it would happen sometime, but seeing her kissing another man in the car park of my own workshop was more than I could take. I just sat there, sobbing. It was half an hour before Eric opened the door. He passed me the receipt stub for the job.

"Sorry, guv," he said. "I was hoping you wouldn't be here when he came back."

"It's OK, Eric. It had to happen some day," I told him.

"No, it didn't," he said. "Not with an arsehole like him."

"Eric," I called out. "How long have we been charging five hundred pounds for a pair of Pirelli Cints?"

"Ever since the bastard that buys them comes in here boasting that I can take as long as I like because he intends to spend the time in bed with his girlfriend, and that girlfriend turns out to be my bosses ex-wife. I've always had great respect for your Julie. I thought she had better taste than that."

"He thought I was you, and he was trying to rub your nose in it. So now it's cost him an extra hundred quid for gloating. I hope he thinks it was worth it."

When I went to pick up the girls the following weekend I never mentioned it to Julie. I did notice our wedding photo was missing. When I asked about it she just said she must have put it away when cleaning.

"If you don't want it any more, I'd like it," I said. "I could do with a few things to put around the house."

"I see you've taken your rings off as well," I said.

She covered her left hand with her right. "Well, I haven't been married for four years, Greg."

"Oh, so it has nothing to do with Uncle Miles that the girls keep talking about?" I said.

Julie chose not to answer and instead rounded up the girls for me to take them out.

By this time we were entering our fifth year AD. It looked like I was losing Julie to the man Eric simply referred to as "The Arsehole". He and his wife had taken to doing their shopping on Thursday nights so they could avoid Julie. I decided I was going to cheer myself up. My birthday was coming up and I was going to buy myself a particularly extravagant present. On the day itself I went in to work as usual and found all the doors strewn with happy birthday banners. I got a couple of rude cards from Tom and Eric and a promise of a damn good piss up after work.

"It's not every day you turn 40," Eric said. "Me and the lads wanted to make it special." That evening we shut up shop dead on the dot of five thirty and set off for the pub. They had gone to a lot of trouble. The bar had my favourite Hobgoblin on draft as a "guest ale" and as the evening progressed even some of our regular customers and suppliers put in an appearance. I hadn't had such a good boy's night out since I left the service. Everything was going fine until about eight thirty when the police put in an appearance. One WPC (woman police constable) and a male officer entered the bar. The WPC walked into the middle of the bar and turned to address us.

Reading from her notebook, she said, "Do we have a Mr Greg Maitland in the bar?"

My heart was in my mouth as I came forward. After all, there was no reason for the police to call me out unless something bad had happened.

"Are you the owner of a vehicle registered with the number FG02FXB?" she asked.

"I am," I said, still puzzled as to what was going on.

"Our records show you have no insurance on that vehicle, sir. I'm afraid I must impound the vehicle and issue a fixed penalty notice."

I was mystified, until Eric called out, "Ahh, you can't do that to him on his birthday."

The WPC stopped writing the ticket.

"Is it your birthday today?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. "Forty today."

"Well, in that case I'm duty bound to tear up this ticket and dance for you."

She pointed at the other cop who produced a large boom box from behind him and pressed play. As the music filled the bar I realised that what looked like a normal police uniform was actually all held together with velcro. The blokes in the bar were all laughing and cheering as she danced in front of me, first removing her stab vest, then her blouse. Her hat she placed on my head as she continued to gyrate in front of me. Her black skirt was also fixed with velcro and she was able to just rip it off. The lads in the bar were calling out for her to "get your tits out". She turned around to face them and slipped one strap down her arm and pulled one cup down to show her breast. She pulled that one up again and did the same think to the other breast. She turned back to me and putting her hands behind her back released the Bra catch and let the garment fall to the floor revealing a perfect pair of breasts. She pulled my head up and placed it between her tits rubbing them against the side of my face. When she moved down to the panties they came down a little bit at a time. She was still wearing her black stockings and suspenders. The panties hit the floor and she bent over to pick them up pushing her arse into my face as she did so. She picked up the panties and spun them round on her extended finger as she high stepped around the bar, pulling me behind by my tie. Then the music changed and we got The Police (who else?) singing "Don't Stand So Close To Me". The boys in the bar were joining in with the chorus and every time it came on she would put an arm around my waist and pull me to her forcing her breasts into my chest and grinding her pubic mound against my straining dick. When the music stopped she picked up the small pile of clothes her colleague had placed on the table and skipped off to the ladies. She came out looking once more like a WPC. Coming over to me, she took her hat from my head. I felt her put something into my shirt pocket as she leaned in to kiss me on the cheek and whisper.

"Call me," she said.

As she left Eric started calling for people to drink up. I looked at him a bit curious and he said, "This isn't over yet. We're all joining the ladies for a ruby." In cockney rhyming slang "Ruby Murray" means "curry".

We made our way out of the pub and across the street to The Star of India. Inside, the wives and girlfriends were already waiting for us. Each of the blokes paired up with their other halves and I suddenly felt acutely alone. Just as we were all finding our seats, Clare walked in. I was conscious of feeling shock. She looked amazing. Here she was, a woman in her mid fifties, and she didn't look a day over forty.

"Scrubs up well, don't she?" Eric said.

"Look, boss. I was going to ask Julie, but she's probably far too busy with Arsehole to come to something that really matters."

Clare reached across and touched my hand. "Isn't it good to be among people that love you?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said.

We all placed our orders, had a few more beers and the fun continued. I could hear Tom and Eric taking the piss out of Miles.

"The name's Jones," Tom said in his phoney posh accent. "Miles Penry-Jones. Now are you the boss around here?"

Clare reached out for my hand again. "He did try to get her here," she said. "He called several times, even left messages. Perhaps it's time to call it a day."

"You know what really hurts, Clare?" I said. "I didn't even get a card from her or the girls. It's my fortieth birthday and they can't even manage a card."

"You're in no fit state to go home tonight. You'd better come to mine," she said. "At least I have something for you."

I grinned at her. "It's not sex I need," I said.

"I wasn't talking about sex, but we can do that too, if you like."

The party broke up about eleven and Clare, who had drunk nothing stronger than orange juice, drove me back to her place. When we arrived she gave me an envelope and a parcel. The card was a humorous one, as I would have expected, but the parcel really surprised me. When I unwrapped it I found four vinyl albums - John Lee Hooker, Howlin Wolf, Elmore James and Sonny Boy Williamson. It must have taken her hours to find them. I welled up, not knowing what to say or do. She came to me and kissed me tenderly.

"Come on," she said. "Let's see if we can make this night even more memorable."

On the way into work we swung by my place for a change of clothes and for me to see if the post had brought any cards from the girls. It had not.

No one turned up late for work the following day and they didn't even seem particularly hung over. Of course, I had to put up with the "old man" jokes. The first of these was to find a Zimmer frame in front of my desk where the chair should be. Having sorted through the mail and dealt with the important ones I went out into the workshop to find Tom.

"So, just who do I have to thank for last night's little shindig?" I asked.

"All Eric's idea," he said. "He thought we should mark it and we all agreed. Eric organised the lot. Got the discount on the bar and at the restaurant."

"Eric did it all?" I asked.

"That's right," he said. "Even organised the stripper, and by heck she was some girl wasn't she? I think she had the hots for you. She went well beyond the call of duty."

The following Sunday was my access time. On Saturday I took delivery of the birthday present I had bought my self. Julie seemed a little preoccupied, but Annabel was on top form. She and Grace ran out to meet me.

"Whose car is this daddy?" she asked.

"It's mine," I said, as I walked them to the door.

"Mum, have you seen dad's new car?" Annabel asked Julie.

Julie looked out to see my bright red Morgan four seater outside.

"What brought that on?" she asked.

"Well, I could afford it, so I bought myself a little birthday present. It's one year old - I didn't want to wait four years for a new one."

"Birthday present?" she said. "But it's not your birthday until..."

"Last Wednesday," I said.

Annabel flew at Julie. "I told you," she screamed. "I told you we had to go shopping for daddy's birthday, but you insisted we go out with Miles. I hate him. You never have time for us when he's around. And now we've missed daddy's birthday. I hate him, and I hate you too."

Annabel held on to me, and I put my arm around her. Julie's eyes started to fill after Annabel's outburst.

"She doesn't mean it," I said. "She's just upset at having missed her daddy's birthday."

Julie began to look really embarrassed.

"At least it wasn't a big one," she said. "I could never forget a big one."

"No, you're right," I said. "I turned forty this week, which you would have known if you had picked up any of Eric's messages. He was trying to get hold of you all last weekend."

"I'm so sorry, Greg." Now the tears really were flowing. "I swear, I didn't get any messages."

"I know Eric," I said. "If he says he left messages on your phone, then messages were left. If you didn't get them then you need to look at who's deleting your messages. I wonder, could Miles have been staying here last weekend?"

"Come on, girls," I said. "It's a nice day. We can ride with the top down and have lunch at the pub by the river. Then we can feed the ducks."

As we walked towards the door Annabel turned back to look at Julie.

"I still hate you," she said, "but I hate him more."

Another flood of tears came to Julie's eyes and we left her sobbing.

We arrived at the pub and I lifted Grace out of the back seat.

"Daddy, I like your car better then uncle Miles' because you can fold the top down and it's easier to get out of."

I smiled at her and said, "Well, I don't think you should tell uncle Miles that because he thinks his car is pretty cool."

"I'll tell him," snorted Annabel.

We had a great day at the river. After feeding the ducks I took them out in a boat, then we watched the boats going through the lock as we ate our ice creams. By the time we roared back into Julie's drive Grace was already falling asleep in the back seat.

Annabel stormed into the house, completely ignored her mother, and went straight to her room. I set Grace down on the sofa.

"She doesn't mean it," I said. "She will never hate you - you're her mum. She's just a little upset right now. She thinks you're putting Miles in front of everyone and everything, and it's hard for her to adjust to that."

"She thinks I hurt you and I did, didn't I?"

"Yes, I can't deny having my fortieth birthday ignored, by the only family I have, hurt me. Having no card from the girls hurt most. I can take it from you, it's sort of par for the course. Every time you reject me it hurts, but I deserve that because I hurt you really badly. I just never expected you to use my girls against me."

"I didn't mean to," she cried. "I would never do that on purpose."

.

"No, but HE would," I said. "One day, when this is all over, I'll tell you why Eric refers to him as the arsehole."

"Anyway," I said, "please pass on my thanks to him for part financing my birthday party. The party you were invited to, but arsehole deleted the messages."

"Eric was so disgusted by his behaviour at the workshop that he put an extra hundred on his bill. So tell Mr Miles Penry-Jones thank you very much. I haven't had such a good night out since I left the marines."

I left her crying on the sofa. Yes, I felt sorry for her, but this problem was not of my making and she refused to see how Miles was manipulating the situation to try to drive us further apart. I went home with a heavy heart. I took no pleasure in Julie's predicament with the girls. The fact it would make Miles attempts to get into her panties that much more difficult was a boost, but he obviously had her wrapped around his finger. Suddenly I could see the chances of reconciliation disappearing fast.

The following Thursday I received a small package at work. On opening it I found a pilot's chronometer. The watch was engraved on the back. "To Greg on his 40th Birthday from Julie, Annabel and Grace." I rang Julie at work.

She was quite buoyed up by the call.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"Who chose it?" I responded.

"I did," she said. "I can assure you Miles had nothing to do with it." This told me he had probably suggested it.

"If you hadn't had it engraved, making it non-returnable, I would have sent it back to you," I said.

"Oh, so you don't like it," she said, failing to hide the disappointment in her voice.

"You still don't get it, do you, Julie? What the girls and I wanted was for them to be able to pick out a present for their daddy's birthday. What they wanted from you was to take them shopping so they could pick something. No one, including me, wanted you to wade in with your cheque book to provide some expensive gift. I don't know what is happening to you, Julie. You used to understand that people are more important than money. Yet this gift seems to say you think you can buy your way out of anything. I'm going to call the jeweller and if he says the engraving can be polished out then I'll return it to you."

Julie was very quiet at the other end of the phone. "Oh well, I tried to put things right," she said.

"No, you didn't, Julie. You tried to make yourself feel better by spending money. I'm over it, I don't need this. If you want to put things right, ask the girls what they want to do, then go with them while they do it. This may surprise you, but seeing Annabel so upset was just as bad for me as it was for you."

"Don't preach to me, Greg. You're in no position to do that." She was getting angry now, which seemed to indicate she knew I was right. "I have a right to a life of my own you know."

"Yes, Julie, you do have a right to a life of your own. If your responsibility for the children is getting in the way of that, then you might like to consider letting me take over that responsibility."

She hung up the phone.

"Well," I thought to myself, "that didn't go too well, did it?"

Julie hardly spoke to me the next time I picked up the girls. I put the small box on the kitchen worktop.

"You'll just have to pay for a new back to be put on," I told her.

"You couldn't just accept that I was sorry and was making a gesture could you?" she said.

"I don't call a four hundred pound wrist watch a gesture," I said. "Now can we just forget it and move on."

Once again I left with Annabel looking daggers at her mother.

Relations during this period were particularly frosty, so it came as a surprise when I received a phone call from Julie suggesting we meet for dinner. She suggested "Gino's" a little Italian restaurant in town and we made a date for the following Friday.

Many thoughts went through my head as I waited for Friday to arrive. Since our divorce Julie had shown little interest in going out on a date with me. I thought the most likely scenario was that Miles had dumped her and she wanted some comfort. I was not about to blow my chances. I put on a suit with a tie. I had my haircut and I shaved again before leaving the house.

Seeing Julie really took my breath away. She wore a low cut little black dress with a hem line which stopped mid thigh. It certainly showed her curves off to her best advantage. She had obviously had her hair done. As she walked through the restaurant on her four inch stilettos the eyes of every man in the room were on her. I got up and welcomed her.

"You look absolutely gorgeous," I said.

"Thank you," she said. "You're no too shabby yourself."

We sat, ordered, and chatted our way through three courses. We talked about the girls, my business and virtually anything but us. By the time we were waiting for the coffee I decided to hurry things along. I reached out and took both of her hands in mine.