The Way Back Ch. 08

I speeded up but kept it gentle. As I felt my orgasm arriving, I slowed and let it subside, then brought myself to the edge again, before backing off. A look of mischief flashed across her face, as she realised what I was doing, and saw how near I was. She tried some thrusting of her own, which I dampened allowing my full weight to rest on her. She capitulated, smiling and lying still.

But I couldn't hold out and began to work harder, making deeper and deeper strokes until I was over the edge and into that wordless imageless ecstasy, totally lost to the world.

Except that soon I could hear her.

"Keep going!" she cried urgently, so I did my best and she came again. Not mind-blowing but comfortable she told me later.

So at that we both relaxed, feeling exhausted. She moved over to the edge, allowing me to lie down on my back and enfold her in my arms. She picked up the radio remote and found some quiet music. There was nothing to say. Life was perfect at that moment, that half-hour, cuddled together.

Strangely, timeless moments end and we had to return to cold reality, as we prepared for the next day, and then sat and drank some wine before going arm in arm to bed. Did we make love again? You must be joking! I was forty odd years old, and no super-stud. Jenny assured me she was sated; so in bed it was some time in each other's arms with some kisses and gentle stroking, then sleep.

At breakfast she looked a little edgy. I thought I knew what it was.

"Seeing Peter tonight?" I hazarded. She looked startled.

"Yes, do you mind?"

"After all we said? Of course I don't mind. Go for it!"

She looked relieved, "I thought after last night..."

"You'll need to train him, you know. You owe those orgasms last night to Trish's training!"

"God bless Trish!" she said, laughing.

All the tension was gone and, I thought, so was Jenny. I felt at peace. I was doing the right thing.

If the tension was gone with Jenny, it soon returned with Ann.

"Are you going to Ann's tonight?" A casual question from Jenny in the office mid-morning.

"Oh God!" I blasphemed. "I said I'd ring to arrange this week."

"Well, you'd better get to it," she retorted. I put my tongue out at her, and she laughed, but I did as I was told.

I rang Ann at work and arranged to go for the evening meal on the next three days.

However, after I put the phone down the memory of Keith's report and his comments on it returned. The woman was impossible. There was no way I could trust her. I needed time to see Stephanie and get some facts.

So I arrived on Tuesday in good time for our evening meal which here in the North of England we call 'tea'. In the South they call it 'dinner' or 'supper'.

I parked the car and was making my way to the front door when I saw old Mrs Gregory looking over the fence. We exchanged greetings.

"I'm so glad your family is back here again," she said in her quavering voice, "and even more glad that you have returned, though it's terrible what you've been through."

I didn't enlighten her that we were not quite as together as a family as she thought, and she continued chatting on, my stomach rumbling with hunger,

"Bill and I used to say you could set your clock by the family's coming and going. You leaving early, the children off to school, and then Ann's brother, or was it cousin, visiting during the day. It's nice to see everyone coming and going again though we haven't seen him since you all got back, but of course Ann's working now."

I was puzzled by her remarks.

"Her brother you say?" I asked.

"Or her cousin, he had that huge car."

Now I was really puzzled. Peter had a small car, he always said he didn't need a family size car, not having a family. I did not know of any male cousins.

"Did he visit often?" I asked. "You understand I don't have a very good memory."

"Oh, usually once or twice a week. My! It's getting on for four years ago, isn't it? He was very good, it must have been before Ann started work, when she was at home with the children. Mind you, they were all at school then."

I collected myself rapidly. "D'you think Bill would remember what type of car her cousin drove? I can't place which one it would be." I was praying she wouldn't suggest I ask Ann.

"Won't be a minute." She said and wandered into the house. She was back in no time.

"He says it was a Bentley, high end of the range he thought, whatever that means."

"Thanks, Mrs Gregory," I said, "I think I know who it was now."

"Bill said he was back yesterday, but in a different car, a black BMW? He didn't stay long."

"Oh great," I said. "It's good to know he looks after her."

My feelings were quite the opposite. I would need to think about that. The cars belonged to Derek. Another piece of the jigsaw that was Ann's behaviour before my 'accident'.

As it happened the children made conversation of any depth between us impossible on all three days I went for tea, the exception being Tuesday when she got me to agree to our first meeting at the flat on the following Sunday.

The only conversations we managed were as follows.

On Tuesday:

"How's Jenny?" She asked.

"Fine. She's out with Peter tonight."

"Oh." A smile of satisfaction.

On Wednesday:

"Things sorted out with Peter?" She asked, after Peter left after talking with me.

"Yes."

"Oh." A questioning look.

On Thursday:

"Seeing Jenny tonight?" She asked.

"Yes," I answered, monotone, but I think my look gave me away.

"Oh." A look I could interpret as sympathetic.

The reason for the question on Wednesday, was that Peter arrived after tea and wanted a word with me. He was not happy. I took him into the Computer room.

"So what is this about?" I asked by way of beginning.

"Don't you think it's time you let Jenny go?" he asked, quite aggressively I thought.

"I wasn't aware she was imprisoned," I answered.

"Don't be flippant Allan, you know what I mean," he said with a frown.

"Peter, she's a free, independent woman. She does what she wants. If she wants to leave me she's free to so."

"You know she feels you depend on her, you need her."

Now there was a surprise; I had thought she was depending on me!

"Peter," I said, becoming exasperated. "Are you saying you want Jenny for yourself?"

He looked embarrassed. "Well yes."

"Well, what's stopping you? I'm not."

"It's not as easy as that and you know it."

"What do I know?"

"Come on Allan, she pities you. It keeps her with you."

That was another new one. Jenny might love me, but pity? I didn't think so.

"Rubbish Peter. Has she told you that?"

"No, but--"

"But nothing. You want her. Go get her. Jenny and I both know our relationship is temporary. Has she told you anything about us?"

"Yes. I know all about her Uncle John, and about Canada."

"Did she say I took advantage of her?"

"Well, no. She said she rather threw herself at you."

"Doesn't sound much like pity to me, or that I'm blackmailing her into staying with me."

There was a silence.

"Peter," I began again. "What's the problem with Jenny?"

"I think you know," he said despondently. "I'm no good with women."

"Not what I heard."

"Eh?"

"I quote: 'They got out of the car and walked arm in arm to the front door, her head on his shoulder. At the door they kissed long and hard before she rang the doorbell.'"

"What? When? How?"

I stopped him. "Going to David and Vivienne's house last week, while I was safely out of the way? Anything to say about that?"

"Sorry, Allan." He looked guilty and, I thought, scared, "I had no right--"

"For God's sake, Peter, do I look angry, hurt, vengeful? What's up with you? It sounds as if Jenny really likes you, you have a great rapport: you share long talks together."

Another silence. This time I waited.

"All my life I've met girls," he said morosely, "gone out with them, and then when I wanted to go further, I always got the 'I don't fancy you that way, Peter, can't we just be friends?'"

"So you're afraid you'll get the same from Jenny?"

"She's so beautiful," he said wistfully, "she won't want someone like me."

"Peter," I said gently, "learn to read the signs. How does she look at you? Respond to your kisses?"

"I tried to go further than, you know, kissing and she told me that while she was with you, she wouldn't be unfaithful to you. So I stopped."

"Did she give you the 'just good friends' routine?"

He looked genuinely enlightened. "No!"

"So she kisses you, hangs on your arm, chats with you for hours, tells you her personal history," I was trying very hard, but he was really thick on this subject. "She doesn't give you the 'good friends' line, and uses the words 'while I'm with Allan,' note that, Peter, 'while'.

His head jerked up. "You mean?"

"I mean 'faint heart never won fair lady' Peter. What have you got to lose?"

"Are you telling me you and Jenny are finished?"

"I'm not telling you anything, Peter. Go find out for yourself," and I stared at him with a smile.

A smile spread across his face. Boy was he slow!

"Thanks Allan," he breathed, "you were always a good friend. I just wish you and Ann--"

"Enough, Peter," I snapped. "Don't push it." Though I was still smiling as I cut him off. He knew better than to continue.

He left, after shaking me vigorously by the hand.

Well, Jenny, I thought, looks like the end of the line for us.

And it was.

She was pensive all day on Thursday and I knew why, but the office was not the place.

After I returned from Ann's, she arrived at the flat. She sat me down.

"Allan?" she faltered.

"It's time, isn't it?" I said. "You saw Peter last night and now you're with him."

She looked relieved.

"Yes," she said. "He was like a new man last night. Asked me to be his girlfriend and leave you."

"Good," I said. "About time. He's not had much luck with women, and he doesn't think someone as beautiful as you would look at him twice."

She looked puzzled, "When did he say that?"

"Last night, before he came to you. I told him to give it his best shot. You'll need to keep reassuring him, he'll be very insecure about you. He'll be thinking you'll leave him for the first hunk that crosses your path. Tell him more about your past experiences with men."

She sprang to her feet and I stood up as well, as she flung herself into my arms.

"You lovely man! You set him up, didn't you?"

"Well..." but thankfully I couldn't answer because her lips were on mine.

When we at last parted she looked into my eyes.

"One last time?" she asked. "Peter and I haven't..."

"I think instead, you should go and have your first time with Peter, don't you?"

"But--"

"Wasn't last time as good as it gets?"

A pause. A shrug. A smile.

"Yes, you're right," she looked sad. "I'll miss you. I'll miss your face and your scars. I'll miss the way you make love."

"Peter will be good for you. You'll have to train him though, he's not had much experience with women, and here I'm talking about sex."

"Thank you Allan." She began to cry. "I'll never forget all you've done for me. If Peter and I make a go of it, he'll owe you a lot as well, I'll see to that!"

She smiled through her tears.

So that was that. We loaded her few belongings into her car and then after a hug and a chaste kiss, she was gone from my life for ever, or at least from my sexual life.

I read a novel, but kept stopping to think about Jenny and our relationship. It had been good. I felt a sense of satisfaction.

The flat felt empty, though. I had been alone here many times; Jenny did not live there, and was not there every night, but there is a difference between being alone in my flat knowing there was someone out there for me, and being alone with no one.

I thought it must be how the bereaved must feel as they came to terms with the fact that their loved one would never return, and was not somewhere else and would be coming home one day. This was the first time since I woke up from my coma that I had been truly alone in the world.

I did not feel lonely. I knew I had friends. I thought I might benefit from being alone. It was like another stage in growing up again. I had a family of children who loved me. Life was good, and I hoped Jenny and Peter would be happy together, both of them deserved it.

With these thoughts I went to bed with a malt whisky and carried on with my novel.

Friday morning I arrived to an empty office. Where was Jenny? Had she resigned? I called Judy and asked her what she knew.

"She's at a funeral today, and won't be in. Didn't she tell you?"

Then I remembered. She had told me. In a sense it was a relief. It put off finding out whether we would be able to work together under these new conditions.

Any thought of our possible problems were eliminated by an arrival.

"Mr Jonsson," said our young receptionist. "There's a Mr Fanshaw to see you."

Unexpected is a mild description of this event.

"I'm in a meeting at the moment, but it will be over soon, ask him if he can wait."

He could.

I went to see Geoff. He came back with me. He would be 'working' at Jenny's desk on her computer. We did not discuss why Derek would be coming to see the man he had tried to kill.

"Bring him down, Sally," I said, switching on my recorder, and shortly after there was a knock on the door, and the man I had not seen since the Chamber of Commerce dinner walked into the room.

"Mr Jonsson," he said, all business, and with a hand outstretched. I did not react, and remained seated. He glanced at Geoff, then came back to me, dropping his hand.

"Sit down Derek," I said briskly, "What do you want?"

He began to look uncomfortable, which I took to be guilt but his opening remark put paid to that.

"I'll come straight to the point," he began. "While I'm glad you have recovered from your injuries, you have to realise that Ann has moved on. You are with someone else, but it seems you are keeping Ann from me with these lies about me.

"So I'm asking you to tell her that I've done nothing to you, let her go and come back to me. She's been happy until you came back but she's got this idea that you're going to take her back."

"Wait a minute Derek," I butted in. "I'm not keeping her anywhere, and I've not made any statements about your guilt."

"I know you have," he said obstinately. "You and Colin Sinnott and David Lambourne, you've all been putting it about that I caused your 'accident.'

"Believe that if you want, Derek, but it's not true."

"But you believe I'm guilty."

"Oh yes, Derek, I believe it, but that's a long way from telling anyone else what my suspicions are. Ann wanted the evidence since no one would tell her. I gave her the evidence, that's all."

"There is no evidence, you know that. It's conjecture."

"I'm not arguing with you Derek; that'll be up to the courts. So what do you want?"

"Ann only feels pity for you and she feels guilty she didn't look harder for you. It's not love; she loves me. She keeps coming back to me but her guilt and pity for you make her go back to you.

"She was in my bed twice last week while you were away with the kids. Didn't know that did you? She only wants to make up to you for what she sees as her failure. I want you to convince her to leave you and come back to me. She will anyway in time; she needs my tender loving care."

"I don't know what Ann feels," I snapped. "I've not asked her. All she's said to me is that she wants me back. She wants what we had before I disappeared. If she feels pity for anyone, it's you."

At this his face turned puce and he sprang to his feet. "That's another of your damned lies, Jonsson. You want to know something? She wanted me, preferred me, before you disappeared. We were seeing each other for months before. She's always said I had more to offer in the bed department than you ever had. So you're outclassed there. I love her and she'll only be truly happy with me."

He turned and was stalking out of the door.

"So you were having an affair with her before you organised my death?" I said quietly. He stopped, and turned.

"Yes, you poor sod. You didn't have a clue. She got all her sexual jollies from me, while she got her lifestyle from you. Happens all the time."

"Thanks Derek. That's confirmed something else I've suspected. So you're telling me she's lying to me."

"Her problem is she wants to please everyone. Can't be done, and I bet I wasn't the first she's had."

"So why did it take you a year and a half to get her to live with you?"

"She didn't want to queer her pitch if you came back. She knew where the money was coming from."

"So that's why you forged the letter?"

"Yes. She needed a push. It was enough. She was glad she came to me as well, we were a happy family until you came back."

"Well Derek," I said, concluding the meeting, "I'll let you get on your way. No point in her coming back to you though, you're not going to be around much longer, are you?"

"Fuck off!" he snarled and left.

I switched off the recorder and loaded the contents into my laptop. Geoff looked at me and I looked at him and we both shrugged our shoulders. He went back to his office.

In the evening I met the three and we talked the evening away. Keith did not mention the surveillance of Ann; I did not mention my talk with Derek and mercifully the talk was of politics, sport and finance. David gave me Stephanie's address and phone number as we left and Colin drove me home. There was no news about the court case, he informed me. I was not surprised.

When I got in I consulted the weather forecast and found it would be a grey day but warm and dry. I phoned Ann and asked if there was anything happening with the children. Jan was going to a party in the afternoon, and Stefan was invited out with a friend and his family for the day. Greta was out with a girlfriend. Ann had promised to go shopping with Vivienne in the afternoon.

I said I would go anyway about lunchtime, and once there I set to attacking the garden, which needed attention. It was a good therapeutic afternoon and I went home before Ann returned.

The evening was taken up with an early drink at a local pub, The Swan with Two Nicks. (No, not two necks. Mute swans in England are the property of the Queen, except for those the London Guilds catch and mark with identifying nicks to the feathers). I got into a deep discussion with the landlord about the state of the brewing industry. Then I left later than I intended, because I stayed to listen to the jazz band which provided the live music that night. Then the whisky at home sent me to a deep sleep.

I was woken late Sunday morning by the phone. It was Susan. Had I forgotten I was having Sunday lunch with them? I apologised, and told her I had overslept, and would be there shortly. She laughed and told me I had two hours to get there, she was making sure my memory was working that morning. I told her I was grateful for her foresight and kindness, and she told me not to get lost.

She met me at the door of their beautiful house in Bowden, kissed me on my lips, hugged me and asked "Are you ok?"

"You heard?"

"Yes. Are you ok?"

"Susan it's been on the cards for a while. She'll be better with Peter; he's just what she needs and even more, she's definitely what he needs."

"But now you've lost two..." here she was lost for the right words.

"Girls?" I prodded laughing. She blushed and was satisfied.

"No talking shop while I'm around, I've told Geoff," she admonished me.

I nodded sheepishly. Then she let me in!

It was a pleasant day with a hazy sun, and warm. Geoff and I sat on the patio with beers and enjoyed the garden.

Dinner was a happy family affair, the teenage son and daughter appearing for the meal and making me welcome, both of them chatty and humorous, before disappearing immediately after the meal was over to their own rooms. The talk was lively and there was much laughter.