The Way Back Ch. 02

SIX

On Thursday Patricia and I left Manchester and drove back to Newcastle through the Pennine Hills rather than taking the motorways. There had been no snow for over a week on the top, so the roads were quite passable.

It was the last day of our break and while I was a gentleman of leisure, if you can call therapy leisure, Trish was back at work the next day and on early shift at that. She would be working earlies until Saturday. She wanted to make the most of this last day by enjoying the hills, covered as they were by snow.

We arrived back at Trish's in the evening and did a quick shop, ate and went to bed. We made love as long-standing lovers do, very relaxed and undemanding of each other.

Next morning when I awoke, Trish had already gone off to work and I went to therapy. It was gruelling as usual but I worked hard and returned home exhausted but satisfied. Home now was Trish's flat, and though I'd hardly been there before, having my own place, it felt more like home than mine. I slept the afternoon away and was awoken by Trish's arrival. She drove me over to my flat to collect more of my clothes and toiletries.

After dinner we joined some of her nursing friends and spent an evening laughing at the sort of filthy jokes and anecdotes at which the medical profession excel; and drinking at which they also excel.

Thus on Saturday morning I awoke feeling very ill indeed. My painkillers did not react well to large amounts of alcohol. Once again Trish had gone off to work, leaving me with my stomach and head. I held my head and thought that I wasn't really helping Trish first thing in the morning. I was never awake in time.

I was not in the best condition to do serious thinking but I saw the personal recorder and played the recordings of all the conversations I'd had over and over.

The first thing I noticed was how everyone seemed to be so keen on me meeting my ex-wife. I could understand that. They had a memory of my relationship with her in the past, and it was reasonable for them to want us to rekindle that relationship. I heard myself on the tape saying over and over that I didn't know her.

The next thing was more serious and important. It seemed my children really needed me. How would I get round that one? Whereas Ann was now safely with someone else she obviously loved, my children needed me. It didn't matter that I didn't remember them; that was irrelevant. I had to find a way to get in touch with them. However something told me that the time was not yet. I would know when the time was right, wouldn't I?

I knew I would be making Manchester my new home. My friends from of old all lived there and I would be meeting more of them, but it would be as if for the first time. They would be new friends. What I had learned about those I had met, was that they were the best friends a person could want, but I didn't have a history with them.

My company was there. My history was there and I was becoming more confident I would eventually remember it.

However, now I felt more at home in Newcastle. I didn't have much of a history with Trish and our friends from the hospital, but it was longer and deeper than those in Sale. It would be a wrench to leave them.

From my point of view, Trish was beautiful, physically as well as mentally and emotionally; we were certainly sexually highly compatible and it wasn't just lust. We communicated intimately at every level. So why didn't I make my future with her? I loved her; I was in love with her. What was the problem with settling with her? Of course, I had forgotten she was set on going to her family in New Zealand.

It eventually dawned on me that the problem was that I was not a complete person. It was precisely that I had no history. I was living on inadequate data, and when the other data came through -- if it came through -- it might change things drastically. So what to do?

I concluded that it meant I couldn't make a solid commitment to Trish. She had always said she was not into commitment but some of her reactions belied that assertion. I surmised I may have been conceited but I thought she was falling in love with me.

I rang Trish at work, and we arranged to meet at our local pub mid-afternoon. As soon as she saw me I could see she knew we had to 'have the talk'.

"Trish, darling," I began, but she interrupted.

"Have you decided it's finished between us, Allan, is that it?"

I thought for a moment, though it seemed like an age.

"Trish. A lot has happened. I'm not sure where I stand."

"OK, carry on." She was steeling herself for bad news.

"I've found a family, a divorcing wife, money, and a company I own which may be under threat from my ex-wife."

"So are you saying it's still all in the air, as far as we're concerned?" she asked hopefully. "If it's open-ended I can live with that. I did say no strings when we started this relationship after all."

She paused, then, "You'll be going back to Manchester permanently, then."

"At the moment it seems so, but Trish, I don't want to end our relationship. Will you come and visit when I have a place to stay?"

She didn't need to think.

"Don't be daft, Allan," she giggled, "and you can come here as well. We came back the pretty way but it only takes a few hours by car along the motorways and the A1. And whatever happens we'll always be close. It's the sextra bit that's not clear," she smiled at her clever elision. "Sex. Do we carry on -- carrying on?"

"You want to?" I asked.

"Yes, I've sort of got used to the shagging bit. You're very good at it you know, thanks to my tuition of course."

She looked at me expecting a response; there was none because I was obviously biting back a smile. So she qualified with a grin, "and your innate ability, of course!"

"Of course," I answered smugly. We both laughed and went back to her place. Were we any clearer about where we were going with each other? I didn't think so.

"Do you feel any sense of being unfaithful to Ann?" she asked as we undressed in front of each other.

"She's shagging this bloke; she's moved in with him. We're divorcing, Trish," I muttered. "I don't know her. No, I don't feel bad."

We fell into bed and afterwards she assured me that while I had problems with my short term memory, I had forgotten nothing about the art of lovemaking.

For my part I assured her that being buried in that special place of hers between her thighs was the best, indeed the only real home I knew.

We got out of bed and made dinner, which we had with a bottle of wine. Spaghetti Bolognese with a side salad, simple but delicious. We watched some bland TV and then went to bed early. Trish was on early shift all week as a favour to a friend.

As I drifted off, it came to me that I had no trouble with my memory when it came to my relationship with Trish. It made me feel happy and optimistic.

We awoke together and breakfasted together. The early morning was just getting light and there was a deep red sky. It was good. I arranged to meet her at the hospital and then go for a pub meal and an afternoon out somewhere.

Once she had gone to work, I went back to bed and slept another two hours, being awoken by the bell of a local church calling the faithful to worship.

Out of curiosity I hobbled to the church. It made no sense what was going on, but the priest had two topics: love and forgiveness.

Cut short, he said that commitment to others in love was the way to contentment and happiness. Trying to achieve lasting happiness through selfish actions was doomed to failure in the long run. Love was the only answer to the human search for true and lasting satisfaction. Made sense to me.

Then he went on to talk of forgiveness. I only knew my present condition, but I'd endured a lot of pain, and I could tell that others were a lot better looking than me and looked with horror at my face. Some men or youths had done this to me. They had ruined my life as it had been. I now knew I had lost my wife and children, my memory and my agility.

Forgiveness? No! I wanted revenge, or perhaps justice? I could see what so-called justice would mean; a prison sentence of about ten years maximum. Then they'd be out, perfectly healthy and able to carry on with their lives. My sentence was a life sentence, I would always look like this. My medics had told me that as I grew older I would suffer increased pain in my joints and muscles. No, I had no intention of forgiving those bastards.

Now I wanted them found and punished, but had no idea how this could be achieved. A dead end.

"Where shall we go?" Trish asked as we got into her car, after a coffee at a café near the hospital.

"The coast," I answered without really thinking. It was a bright fine day and not too cold for a winter's day. I wanted to see the sea. Something in me wanted a sense of perspective, and standing small in front of the immensity and power of the sea and its breakers was just what I needed.

We walked along the seashore at Whitley Bay, muffled up against the wind.

"Are you religious?" I asked her, out of the blue.

"Depends what you mean," she said reflectively. "I was brought up a Catholic, you can tell that by the surname, can't you? But I don't go to church any more."

"Any particular reason, don't you believe any more?"

"There were just too many things I couldn't swallow. The usual ones, contraception, a male dominated clergy and the pathetic reasons to maintaining it, and their celibacy. It just seemed to me to be a way of keeping power over people. When I read the Bible I can't see any place where Jesus was into holding power over people, he seemed to be the very opposite. What brought that on?"

"I heard a church bell and thought I'd have a look at what went on. The priest talked about love and forgiveness.

"I was fine until he got to the forgiveness bit. How can I forgive the thugs who did this to me? I want justice, not forgiveness."

"Will you forgive your wife?"

That stopped me. I actually stopped walking. I couldn't answer the question. For some reason it angered me.

"What's all this about Ann? Has the talk about me going back to Sale brought this on? I thought we'd talked it through together. Didn't we agree that this wasn't going to be a permanent relationship? We will go on seeing each other for as long as you want us to. Isn't that what you want? You've said so often enough."

"Sorry Allan," she was taken aback by my vehemence, "but there are two of us in this relationship and it might be you who wants out one day, not me."

"It's OK Trish," I said calming down. "It's just I got this 'Are you going to see Ann? Are you going to try again with Ann?' from Vivienne. It's getting on my nerves. Ann's with someone else. They're getting married. And I haven't any feelings about it at all. She's not someone I know."

Deep down I think I knew that wasn't quite true. I too needed answers about her reaction to my disappearance and I was emotionally affected by her being with another man, though I wasn't aware of what those emotions were.

"Allan," she said tentatively, "when you do remember, you know, your feelings might change. You might realise how much you love her. Then what? In fact I think that's your problem. You're afraid that when you see her you'll fall hard for her and she'll reject you and marry this other bloke. That's it, isn't it?"

That thought had not occurred to me. I had been in love with Ann for years, so it was likely I would be again.

"Well according to those Christian principles of love," I replied, "I should do what would be best for her. If she wants to marry this man, I would need to keep clear of her."

"There you go again," she said more patiently, "keeping clear of her. You see why I wonder if you could cope with her rejection of you? I really think you ought to meet before she marries.

"You can hardly keep your identity a secret for the rest of your life while carrying on running your business in the same area. For goodness' sake Allan, she's likely to be a shareholder! She's bound to find out sooner or later. Better before.

"Can you imagine how dreadful it would be for her if she heard your whole story, still loved you with all her heart and had just married this other guy? If she wants you back and you find you love her it'll stop her doing something she'll regret."

I thought about that.

"As usual you're right. I have a couple of month's grace; I want to take my time over this, but you are right, I will need to see her. Even if it causes difficulties with her new husband-to-be."

"And for you." She was not letting this go.

Then she added, "You know I love you, Allan?"

"Yes. And I love you, you know that, don't you?"

"So let's go home."

We did, and when we reached the bedroom, she turned to me and her arms were round my neck. Mine went behind her, round her waist and under her sweater. Her kiss became more intense and I began to push the garment upwards. She broke the kiss and raised her arms so I could take it off. We did the same for my tee shirt. Then her jeans and my trousers. Then her knickers and my pants. Finally her bra, and we were naked apart from our socks.

We fell onto the bed and I knelt up between her legs, my cock was hardening and I pulled at it a few times while she fingered her clit. We held each other's gaze. No further foreplay but my lowering onto her and into her, and her sigh of satisfaction as she felt the penetration. As she usually did, as I began to thrust into her gently, she traced the scars on my back, arms and behind. That skin is strangely especially sensitive and I moaned my appreciation and felt my orgasm approaching. I slowed down to delay my climax so that she could catch up but she urged me on.

"Don't stop, don't wait. Please love."

So I didn't and came hard and she grunted and groaned as she felt it and saw my orgasm in my face but did not reach completion herself. I withdrew rapidly and plunged my fingers down to her clitoris; she was near and I began strumming on the little bud until she convulsed and thrashed in her own release.

As she began to come down, I pushed my softening cock back into her and was rewarded by a further series of spasms which enlivened my wilting member and we pushed and shoved each other hard into a second orgasm apiece which, if not as intense as the first, was if anything more deeply satisfying. I rolled off her and she nestled into me and we stroked each other absently before falling asleep for a while.

I realised I had hardly eaten anything all day, and we ordered a Chinese meal to be delivered and felt better for eating it and washing it down with a bottle of wine. Then, because she had to be up early, she went off to bed leaving me to tidy up. I sat down with the intention of thinking some more about this development in my life, but I was too tired and gave up the struggle, climbing the stairs and creeping into our bed. In her sleep she turned and cuddled me and I kissed her forehead before falling asleep myself.

When I awoke, she had gone, but there was a note.

Dearest Allan

Sorry I had to leave you sleeping. No time for therapy this morning, on at six. Even with your face you looked angelic in sleep!

Don't waste any more time. Get things sorted and get some peace of mind. Follow the list you made. You remember the list???

Why don't you move the rest of your things to my place? You can give up your flat and that will save commuting between yours and mine. When you settle in Manchester we can take everything there.

I've left a key in the hallway. See you here about 3pm.

Love you loads,

Trish.

What a good heart the woman has, I thought.

I did as she suggested, and moved the remains of my things to her flat by taxi. The taxi driver cheerfully handled my luggage, and was even more cheerful when I tipped him generously. I left the cases in the Hallway and made my way back to town on the bus.

Before I set off I phoned David on his mobile to tell him of my move. He was grateful since he had obtained a replacement birth and marriage certificate from the Trafford Register Office, and wanted to send them on. I told him to keep them until I arrived.

Then I phoned a clinic that Trish knew about for a DNA test. Oh, the wonders of private medicine; they were open for business on Mondays and could give me an immediate appointment!

I went to keep my appointment at the clinic for my DNA test. They took some blood, a pin prick rather than an armful. There was a little panic about payment, but the nurse suggested I pay by card. A revelation! Then she wondered in view of my memory whether my PIN might be written somewhere. Of course it was, though that was contravening card rules.

Afterwards I went to an ATM and checked my balance -- I had no idea if there was any money in it, and found there were twelve thousand four hundred and sixty three pounds and eighty six pence residing there. I wondered where such a lot of money had come from, when I remembered that David said he would transfer money for me.

I consulted David's list, got passport forms and had photo's taken.

Finally I went to the estate agents who managed my flat and arranged for a final visit to check the place over, giving in my notice at the same time.

I went back to Trish's feeling successful, and tried to fill in the forms. I soon gave up. There was no way I could remember the details needed. I did what I could and then settled down for a nap.

She awoke me when she arrived. She was in her nurse's uniform. If a picture has arisen of a very short thigh-high blue dress open at the top to reveal burgeoning breasts bursting over a sexy bra, with white apron, mop-cap and thigh-high stockings, the tops visible below the hem of the dress, douse it immediately. That is what nurses wear in porn and Carry On films. She was in a loose smock and roomy trousers to match.

But she was horny and so was I. In no time I was naked, and she was down to her working bra and plain white briefs. She was unhooking her bra and bending over the sofa arm, and I was easing said knickers over her admirable tight rounded buttocks when the phone rang. She reached over and answered it. The panties were down to her knees as she handed the phone to me. The bra fell onto the sofa.

"It's for you!" she said, looking back over her shoulder with a wicked grin.

"Hello?" I said, taking the phone from her as she reached between her legs, dropped the knickers, took my cock in hand and led it to her eager entrance.

"Allan, it's David!"

"Oof! Hi, David!" I gasped as she pushed her back end into me, impaling me in her depths, tickling my balls as she did so.

"You ok?" He asked with some concern.

"O-o-h, yes!" I managed to exhale, since she was now caressing my balls and fucking me as I stood behind her. "Any news?"

I only had one hand free, so I spanked her and held her still.

He persisted against all odds: "Got you a flat in Stretford. Furnished nicely. Two bedrooms, living area with kitchen off, bathroom and separate toilet."

"Gre - a - t," I managed. She was still playing with my balls and perineum.

"Allan, are you busy with your nurse friend? She giving you some therapy?"

"Well, yes. Ugh!" She was grinding her arse in circular motion against my groin.

"Phone me first thing tomorrow. Now concentrate on the job in hand!" He was laughing as he disconnected.

I dropped the phone. "Right, you lust-laden slut, you're really going to get it now!"

"Oh, goody!" she shouted, as I began to slam my cock repeatedly, filling the length of her. "Oh, yes, give it to me baby! I like it!"

She was laughing at her poor imitation of a porn movie, but she had given up trying to hold on to my balls, and was giving her breasts a good work out with her free hand. I was sure there would be bruises. Then she moved to her clit, brushing my balls as she strummed away. The other hand was holding her up against the repeated pressure pushing her forward over the arm of the sofa.