The Way Back Ch. 02

We went to my bank where I was introduced to the manager and filled in more forms, then a drive into Manchester and meetings with my stockbroker. Finally we went back to David's office, and I changed my will to exclude Ann but include the children in trust up to age twenty-five. David went over the legalities of our company, and gave me a written summary of it all.

Then there was the paperwork concerning the Cherry Tree Lane house, and the authorisation of the transfer of funds which would make the house mine and mine alone. I noted the condition that everything in the house, contents as well as fixtures and fittings would be left. It turned out David had got a surveyor to make an inventory of everything in the house. It had the appearance of a thick book, and apparently Ann had signed it off without a second glance. The inventory went to an interminable number of pages and like Ann, I wasn't interested in reading it.

"You'll find some very interesting things in the house," was all David said about the contents, but the smile assured me that the surprise would be pleasant.

He invited me once again for dinner, but my head was spinning from the day's activities and I needed to rest on my own for a while, and so gratefully refused his offer. He reminded me of our evening at the pub, and said he would collect me at seven thirty. I ate and slept.

Viv drove us to the pub and promised to pick us up afterwards, admonishing David not to let me drink too much since I was still taking pain killers for my legs, though I was now finding I did not need such a high dosage. She was like a mother hen with an errant chick.

I recognised Colin immediately. He was sitting in a corner with a pint in front of him and David brought me over to him before going to buy beer for us both. We exchanged pleasantries for a while, he asking what we'd been up to since we last met, but I sensed there was more to this meeting than a friendly night out. As it turned out I was right. Things would not be the same after this night. We had only been seated for a few minutes when another man joined us, carrying a pint. I vaguely recognised him.

He saw me and his mouth dropped open. "Allan?" he enquired after a long moment.

I nodded.

"Allan, this is Keith Cuthbertson," said David. "He's another good friend. Your company has supplied him with stuff. He's a Private Investigator."

I stood and shook his hand.

"You don't know me do you?" he said.

"No, Keith, I don't remember you, but my memory is coming back so I may soon."

"It's a bloody shame! God, they really went to town on you."

"Now to business," said David. He knew I didn't need more sympathy.

I cocked an eyebrow. Business?

"Colin?" David looked over at him.

Colin turned to me, with a serious expression. "Allan, the three of us have been talking about you and the attack on you. I've been in touch with Northumberland Police and had a very interesting conversation with them. Has anything struck you about your attack?"

"Well, the police were convinced that it wasn't a random mugging but a deliberate attack. They kept questioning me about whether I was involved in drug dealing or protection rackets. I couldn't remember my name, and they thought that I was lying about that. It wasn't pleasant. I was in continuous pain and they didn't let up with the questions; they kept coming back. I got quite a grilling."

"Have you thought of any reason why you should have ended up in Newcastle?" David asked.

"No, but all I can think is that I did meet a woman. Perhaps I'd had a relationship with her. That she lured me there, got me beaten up and stole everything from me."

"Well," said David. "I didn't want to bring this up when I first met you, but there are worrying facts you need to know."

"Go on."

"I told you that Derek Fanshaw had a PI check on you, and that he got pictures of you at York Station."

I nodded.

"Well," he continued, "there was a charge on your credit card for that Station. I got Keith here to check and he reckons that it would have covered two first class tickets to Newcastle."

"Oh," I said. I began to feel guilty. So I was a cheating husband and Ann had every right to take me to the cleaners and to marry Derek.

I was feeling ashamed. "I don't know what to say. I don't remember that day at all, so I can't very well deny it. All I can say is that I hate the idea of doing that to Ann after so many years. No wonder she hates me."

"The thing is," said Colin, "we can't believe it. You were so obviously deeply in love with Ann. We would pass comments about other women but you were never interested. You always wanted to get back home to her. You were always the first to leave when we met for a boys' night out. You never missed a single day to speak to her when you went away, even when you were globe-trotting on business you'd find a way to contact her. This was totally out of character."

"You can't get away from the facts, Colin," I said morosely. "You are a policeman. There's evidence."

"No," he replied. "Look at all the evidence. Why did you get beaten up?"

"And," added David, "those last transactions on the card. The card was stolen from you when you were mugged but never used. No one ever tried to steal your identity."

"Well..." I stopped. I couldn't answer those questions. I looked at the others for help.

"And why were you so comprehensively beaten? It couldn't have been for money, none was taken beyond what you had on you."

"One idea," suggested Keith. "He was with the woman, Alsvik, was it? And her husband or boyfriend caught them. That would account for the severity of the beating."

"But then, why steal everything from me including my clothes and leave me with nothing to identify me?"

"Perhaps the boyfriend/ husband, whatever, thought he'd killed you," said Keith. "We've traced your movements quite easily now you've come back from the dead. If you were dead and unidentified eventually you'd be buried. End of story."

"So?" I asked. "Where does this leave us? Where are we going with this?"

"Well," said David. "I think it's important to try to find who did this to you and the real reason for it. What we've said is only a theory. We do know it can't have been a simple mugging. You were in the wrong place. We have some possible leads; I think we should try to follow them."

"I say again. So? If we want to follow this up, where do we start?" I asked.

I didn't know whether I really wanted to follow this up, especially if I was a cheating bastard, but on the other hand...

Keith was talking; Colin was nodding, "I think we try to find this Alsvik woman. If we can trace her, do you fancy going to Norway to talk to her, Allan? David, would you go? Allan may remember her."

"Alsvik sounds Swedish to me," I said and then stopped. "How did I think that?" I asked them. They laughed.

"You have a Swedish name Allan. You'll be tuned in to the sounds. We'll check your theory," said Colin, "Funny thing memory."

Once again it was Keith who came up with a new idea. "You said that Fanshaw had CCTV pics of the hotel and the railway booking office? Is it worth getting hold of them if Fanshaw's still got them? Allan might recognise her. The hotel in York may have her home address, they often keep registration details to send adverts to past patrons."

"Then why didn't the PI find it?" asked Colin. "I think they'd already deleted her record."

"Not thought of that," said Keith, deflated. "If that PI had any talent he would have tried to find the record. If all else fails it may be worth double checking."

"Well, let's divide the work," said David. "I'll get back to the PI I used in Sweden. You've just confirmed that the name was Swedish, and you'd know, being of Swedish extraction. I remember now looking up the name and finding it was Swedish. Well that'll save us some time. I'll get the Alsviks he turned up and get him to try phoning round. If I strike lucky we should go over there."

"I don't follow," I interjected. "You said this PI didn't find her. They would have known my name, surely they'd make a connection?"

"The PI was looking for you. He didn't approach the women. If you were having an affair it could have ruined her marriage, if she was married that is. I didn't want that. Also a PI sniffing round might have started some unfounded suspicions in husbands of innocent women. So I told him to look for you and you alone, using the Alsvik name. Colin, could you try to get that York PI's report from Fanshaw?"

"No problem, I'll tell them we're reviewing the missing person's file on behalf of the Yorkshire force. I can twist his arm if he gets difficult."

I looked around the table at these three men. What friends they were! Even though they might suspect I had been a real bastard to Ann, they still wanted me to find out who did this dreadful thing to me. I tried to stutter out my gratitude but they dismissed my attempts. They told me I had always been a good friend to them and had helped each of them financially on occasion.

"And," said Keith, "I still can't believe you would ever have done something like that to Ann. I'm keeping an open mind."

"As are we all," added Colin. David just smiled a satisfied smile.

The rest of the evening passed happily. Plenty of banter and poking fun at me telling me tall stories about my past, none of which I believed, and after Vivienne had dropped me off at my flat I fell into bed and slept soundly.

I awoke early the next morning. I had to remember it was Saturday, not because of my memory but because it was difficult keeping track of the days. There was little structure to my life and Saturday was no different from other days.

Saturday morning was a true winter's day with heavy rain and windy with it. I turned on the TV and watched the news channel for half an hour while I had my breakfast. It's a good way to get yourself thoroughly depressed. Then came a ring at the door. I opened it to a man I knew I should recognise. He was soaked.

"Hello?" I said. I must have looked puzzled.

"It's Geoff. From Work?" he ventured, then I knew him.

"Come in Geoff."

"I've brought you a few things," At his feet were three or four packages. "A laptop, and a scanner and printer. And something else." I helped him with the parcels.

I led him to the second bedroom where he began to set everything up.

"I'll get BT to connect the broadband," he said, "Their private house service is crap, but I'll get them under business use. Take a few days, I should think. Still, this laptop's got all the history of the company while you've been away: sales, accounts, research, special projects etc. Also photo's and CVs of all the staff, it may help you to memorise them."

I went and made tea, and a coffee for Geoff at his request. When I returned he was sitting in the living room, holding a small piece of equipment.

"This may help with your memory," he said, "I was working on it a few months ago, and had another go at it yesterday afternoon. Seems to be working. Got a mobile?"

Had I? I looked at a loss.

"I thought David gave you one?"

Then I remembered and fished it out of my coat pocket. He fiddled for a few minutes and then sat back with a satisfied smile.

"This little darling is a prototype. Things are moving quickly in this field. I'll move the SIM card over to it," he said, doing it. "It is a mobile phone but much more. It's got a huge memory, you'll never fill it. It's wireless. It also has a GPS connection and SATNAV so you can find out where you are if you get lost, and it'll tell you the way home. It's got a full name and photo of everyone you need to know. You take the photo and speak their name. There's a menu which comes up when you open it. I went round last night and got a good few names and photos of people you know. You can also speak anything you want to remember or key it in like a text message. You can make lists and use it as a diary. You can set it to remind you to do things. Of course you can take photos and text people as well. Give it a few years and everyone will have one."

He worked with me for an hour, reminding me how the laptop worked and repeatedly testing me on the new mobile until I seemed to be remembering how to use it. He phoned the mobile from his and when the phone rang the memory put up his picture and name and what he did for a living! I was impressed, still am! Nowadays mobile phones can now do all this and more, then it was little known.

He told me he would pick me up on the Thursday of the next week, when Trish had gone back. I thought that was good idea, and it would give me a chance to settle in. He said he would phone me in the meantime for a chat.

I dragooned him into moving the second double bed into the second bedroom, which he was happy to do.

After he had gone, weighed down with my gratitude, I played with the laptop and the phone over and over again until they were second nature to me.

I was pleased when the rain stopped. 'Rain before seven, fair before eleven.' I remembered the saying my mother used to swear by! So then I went shopping for something for our evening meal, writing the shopping list on the little thing. It worked. While out I tried the GPS and was told the street I was in. This was fun. I put in 'home' as the destination and there was a route for me! Fun!

I had just sorted it to my satisfaction when the doorbell went again and there stood a small man in a fluorescent jacket.

"Driving lesson?" he queried, and I remembered David had set me up for it.

Four hours later I was sitting in the living area of my flat, feeling successful, virtuous and optimistic for my future. I could drive an automatic car with ease and without any pain at all. I drove all over Sale, Timperley, Altrincham, Bowden and Hale and began to remember many of the roads. My instructor said I was as safe as anyone else on the roads. Life was looking up.

To be ready for Trish's arrival, I had bought steak, potatoes, green beans and frozen corn -- and ice cream. I had peeled and chipped the potatoes, leaving them in water so they wouldn't discolour, and trimmed the beans. I blessed the landlord for including a deep fat fryer in the kitchen appliances, until, that is, I looked inside and found it empty and filthy dirty. So out to the shop again for oil.

I returned home and then I spent nearly an hour cleaning up the fryer until it was fit to receive the oil.

This done, I awaited the arrival of my lover. The afternoon before, I had phoned her, making sure she was coming for the weekend and that she was bringing the rest of my things. She seemed excited and I gave her the address. She would drive over Saturday afternoon and reach me in the evening.

It got later and later. Supper time passed and still I waited. She arrived at ten. Her kiss was perfunctory and she was past me and into the living area before I could react.

"Sorry," she said. "I overslept. Then I had to load the car."

There was something wrong about her. I went over to her to hug her but she made for the door.

"Let's get your stuff inside then we can relax."

She smiled but I could see it was forced.

So we did. Then she fussed over getting all my things in the right places. Finally I went into the living area and sat down. Trish went to the loo. She was a long time. There was something seriously wrong. She was avoiding me.

When she emerged I gestured to her to come and sit with me. She came with what I could only surmise was a guilty look.

"Well?" I asked.

"Allan, I'm so sorry."

"Sorry? What are you sorry for Trish?"

"Last night," she spoke softly with her head down, "I went out with the crowd. It was Tony's birthday. We went dancing. You know how I love dancing and I haven't been out dancing for ages. Oh it's not your fault. I didn't miss it until I got the chance to go out last night."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

"It's not that. I got drunk. And..."

"And?"

"I had sex with someone. One of the other nurses. He used a condom." She sat still gazing at the floor.

Well, I thought, that's a surprise. We had made no exclusive contract; she was entitled to live her own life. She was not endangering my life: she made the guy wear a condom. We were friends with sexual extras; we expressed our friendship in many ways and one of them was sex.

Who was I kidding? I was annoyed. I felt betrayed as if we had an exclusive relationship, but I couldn't say anything because we didn't.

"Well say something!"

"Trish I've nothing to say. You're a free woman. You said over and over that we have no strings sex. So what's your problem?" but I didn't hide my irritation very well.

"You're upset."

"Why? Should I be? I don't own you."

"I feel guilty Allan. I feel I've betrayed our relationship. I don't understand your reaction. You're saying one thing and it's obvious your feelings are different. You're angry? Disappointed? Jealous? You have a right to be; I've let you down. Once a slag always a slag."

"So it wasn't no strings sex we've been having? You think we have something more? Yet you slept with someone else? Is that what you're saying?"

"It's not that. It's Valentine's day today and instead of waiting and longing to make love with you, I was shagging some bloke from work. Now I feel uncomfortable about it. Forgive me?"

"I just don't know what to make of all this. Is there anything to forgive? Do we have a commitment that you should need forgiving? When you took me on, you said it was no-strings sex. Last week you said there was something more, but you never said there were now some strings. So why beat yourself up over it?"

"Allan, last night I had sex. I was drunk. It was what I used to do. I used to feel it was OK, the sex, but never so good I wanted to do it with the same guy again. Then there was you. The sex was different right from the start. You didn't want to use me, you worshipped me; you loved me as well as having me. You put me first every time, and from then on I didn't want anyone else. The strings were your strings. You tied them. That's why I feel guilty."

"OK I gave you my love. I gave you gratitude to begin with, but we've become closer and closer. Yes, I love you and I always will. When you told me you'd fucked someone else I couldn't work out how I felt. Perhaps you're right. Perhaps it's possessiveness. Perhaps I feel jealous. Or just confused. I really don't know. I'll get over it."

What exactly did she want of our relationship? I needed to know.

"Trish, if I told you a secretary from work had come on to me, she came back here and fucked the life out of me, how would you feel?"

"Has she?"

"Good God, Trish!" I exploded. "Don't answer my question with another question. Just imagine I have the option of some sex while you're not here. How do you feel about that?"

"You want a revenge fuck?" she glanced up at me and saw the look in my eyes. "Sorry, sorry. I'm answering with a question again. OK. I don't like the idea. I hate the idea. I want you all to myself while we are together. That's why I feel guilty, I want something from you and haven't been faithful myself."

"What you're saying is that you want us to be monogamous while we're together; that you fell into old habits. Will you do that again?"

"No way!"

"Then lets forget about it. I still have you and you have me. You haven't changed. You're still you. We alone have bareback sex, and only I get to put my semen inside you. I can't see I need any more than that, but if you go bareback with anyone else, that would be different and I trust you to tell me. You told me about last night so I trust you. Let's have something to eat."

She lunged forward and hugged me hard.

"I do love you so much!" she murmured. We kissed. It was a gentle loving kiss full of thankfulness on her part, and I felt good that she felt better about it. We got up and made a very late supper.