Back to Bristol Ch. 08

Ben stood up, in his argumentative pose, "But Peter always says that she loves you."

"And when does he say that?"

Jamie took up the argument, "He's been saying it a lot lately. But he's always said it when he shouts at Mummy." He paused and looked at me, wondering if he'd said too much, but then he added, "He woke me up the other night when he was shouting at Mummy, and he said it then."

"And what did Mummy say?"

"I couldn't hear, I could only hear him. I was lying in bed, but they woke me up. It was like when you shouted at Mummy before you went away and left us."

Now that hurt, "You heard that? Oh! I'm sorry Jamie. I never meant that you would hear that. That's part of the reason why I went away at first. I was so upset with Mummy and I knew I mustn't shout at her. But, she fell in love with Peter, and you know I had to leave forever."

"Well, say sorry and come back. Please Dad. Peter always wants to be our Dad. And he isn't. You are."

"And I always will be, I promise. Is that why you called him Elsie?"

Jamie thought about that, "Yes, a bit. He was always ... I don't know...."

And Ben added, "And when he got angry he was always so funny. He went all sort of red and white blotchy, and he'd clench his fists and grind his teeth. It was ever so funny to watch, Dad...."

"Well, goading him like that was rather cruel, you shouldn't. You know you shouldn't. But why do you think I've got to say sorry?"

"Dingo Roberts's Dad went off with a woman at his office. But he came back and said he was very, very sorry, and his Mummy said he could come back."

And Ben added, "And he's bought Dingo a Wii player, just to make up."

I laughed, "So, that's why you want me back, just so that I'll buy you a games console."

"You could buy us one anyway." Replied Ben, wistfully.

"Come on, let's get back on our bikes."

As we cycled along I digested that conversation. It was natural that the boys would want their parents back together. That was natural, comforting in some ways, but ultimately meaningless. Children were never a reason for putting together an unhappy marriage in my book. I already knew that Peter seems to claim that Molly loves me, but that's his paranoia. What was interesting was that the boys seemed to think that Molly thinks I was unfaithful to her. Now, to the best of my knowledge, Molly has never claimed that, but the boys must have a reason, and more than Dingo's Dad's little escapade.

When we were back at the Abbey and had the bikes loaded on the rack, I casually mentioned, "Has Mummy ever said anything that makes you think I loved another lady?"

Jamie looked at me, Ben seemed to ignore my question as if it wasn't for him. Eventually, Jamie said, "Well, Dad, she's seen what you're like. Helene? And now she's talking about you having some other girl, someone who you're going to marry?"

"I'm not going to marry anyone." I looked at Jamie, "OK, I nearly married Helene, but I didn't."

"You should have. She was sexy."

"Yes she was." I smiled, and then remembered who I was talking to, "No, I am not discussing the sexiness of my girlfriends with my eight year old son. Get in the car."

We drove along in silence after that, until Ben's voice came from the back seat: "Mummy cried when she married Peter."

"What? At the ceremony?"

"No. Before. I went to see her before in her bedroom. Before Grandpa took us to the hotel. I wanted to know whether I was going to have to call Peter Daddy, 'cos if I was then what was I going to call you?"

"And?" I prompted.

"Mummy was sitting at her dressing table and she was crying. And she said you were the best Daddy in the world, and we were to call Peter just Peter."

"Lots of brides cry on their wedding day. They are leaving one life behind and going to become someone else. Your Mummy stopped being Molly Bennett and became Mrs Molly Davies. People cry, but it doesn't mean they're not happy, Ben. I'm sure your Mummy was very happy when she married Peter. She wasn't crying at the ceremony or anything, was she?"

"No."

"Well, there you are then."

When we got back, I was unstrapping their bikes from the rack when Ralph came out.

I looked up, "Are Molly and Susan back from their pilgrimage?"

He smiled, "Yes. They're in the kitchen, having a cup of tea. Why not come in and join us?"

"No thanks. But I'm back tomorrow afternoon just as I promised you. What did Peter want on Friday by the way? Any progress?"

He looked puzzled, "Peter didn't come round on Friday. What makes you think he did?"

"Oh! Perhaps I was mistaken. I thought it was his car heading this way with Susan, just as I was driving away on Friday evening. I assumed he would have come in. Sorry."

"With Susan? You must be seeing things. Susan was down the road at Jean Pilton's talking about cakes. You know, the big white Georgian house on the corner."

"I know it. Yes, I must have made a mistake."

I handed the boys' bikes over to Ralph, and said my farewells and left.

On the way home, and for all that evening, and whilst lying in my bed staring at the ceiling until about two o'clock in the morning, I was thinking about what I knew of Molly and Peter's break-up and what this conversation that Molly wanted so much was going to be about.

On Easter Monday I slept late, probably because I hadn't gone to sleep until the early hours. So I went out and had a huge and very late breakfast, which I thought would last me until Susan's tea. My mind was still turning over the possibilities for Molly needing to talk to me this afternoon. As I left the restaurant, I found that the sun had come out, and I decided to go for a walk rather than head back to my flat.

A sat on a seat in Brandon Park, with the city of Bristol laid out in front of me, and I determined to go over it all one more time.

I suppose the first and biggest question was to ask: Did Molly love me? Peter obviously thought so, but paranoia would explain that. Ralph had hinted at it, but never said it, and even if he thought it that could be wishful thinking. I was sure, absolutely certain, that Molly had never, ever implied that she loved me, not now and not then. The last mention of her love had been nearly five years ago when she had said that she thought she had loved me. And equally, Molly hadn't seen enough of me to have fallen in love with me all over again since I'd returned to Bristol.

I guessed it was possible that she had fallen out of love with Peter. Maybe it was just a passing obsession in the first place. It must have been an intense passion to desert me and marry him so quickly, unless she thought she was pregnant. Now, that was a thought! She was panicked by getting pregnant by her lover, divorces me and marries him. But I'm pretty sure she was on the pill all through that time, and we were making love right up to the very end. But maybe she has a bad miscarriage and can't have any more. That could explain the breakdown of the marriage, but not his claim of her love for me. It could explain why she had not had any further children. That could be a possibility.

There was a mercenary explanation: That she wants to swap the Deputy Head of Research for the Managing Director. Since we'd split up I had become quite well off. I was far from wealthy, but I had invested my half of the sale of our house well, I was paid very well and I'd received some very good bonuses over the years. I know that some girls would think like that, but I just didn't believe it of Molly.

There seemed to be this red herring that the boys thought I was the guilty party and all I need do was say sorry. But I wasn't the guilty party and I wasn't looking to win her back. I couldn't remember if, in our heated exchanges five years ago, I had said that I was never unfaithful, but she never accused me of it. Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt if I said it now, clearly and for the record, but that's about as far as the boys' ideas went.

So, what was the explanation, and what was it that Molly needed to see me about? If I assume that Peter's accusation was paranoia, that he really did have a bee in his bonnet about me, and it was causing real problems in their marriage, then may be that is what she wants to talk about. How can I help put his mind at rest? I shuddered at the thought of having to apologise to him for my part in this story. OK, I was wrong to have gone to bed with her, but I still think that was her fault more than mine. I had worked to make him feel persecuted at Franks, but I hadn't actually done anything wrong, so I hadn't got a lot to apologise for at work.

And if she does ask, what do I do? Well, it depends what she asks for. I suppose I could meet him for a quick, face to face assurance that I do not intend to run off with his wife, that both his marriage and his job are safe as far as I'm concerned. But I'd hate to even have to do that. And there is no way I'm going to get I involved in marriage counselling or long heartfelt sessions with them, even if not doing so sends him to the mental ward.

What do I say if she goes further? If, to ease his paranoia, she asks me to seek a transfer out of this job, out of Bristol, and out of their lives. I can understand that she would want me out of her life, I am a problem to her. But would she ask me to leave my sons behind completely? Maybe, if it helps the man she loves. Love is a powerful force. But my answer would be No. I might see how we could arrange things to be a bit easier on him, but I'd have to think very carefully before I accepted anything that was going to further separate me from them again over the next few years.

I looked at my watch, I'd sat on that bench for nearly two hours. I looked round, the weather really was warm and sunny, it was more like a summer's day than spring. I felt brighter, more confidant at facing whatever the afternoon may bring. I strolled back to my flat and changed clothes, into some of my new casual summer wear. I was not so much smart casual as brand new casual when I knocked on Susan and Ralph's door a few minutes after three o'clock.

Everyone, including Susan, seemed pleased to see me. Molly looked very tired and strained. I thought I saw a look in her eyes that immediately reminded me of the pleading look she gave me as she lay in bed watching me dress after Peter discovered us. I still didn't understand what I was meant to do, what she was pleading for.

When I got a chance, when momentarily we were by ourselves, I did say "I really am sorry that you and Peter seemed to have fallen apart. I know how much you must have loved him. It must be horrible for you."

She looked as if she wanted to say something, her eyes looked a bit tearful, but Susan came back in the room before she had a chance.

Susan's cheerfulness covered any awkwardness, and she started quizzing me on all I'd been doing since the divorce. When I told her about my time in the International Consultancy Division, constantly travelling, she jokingly (but with an edge in her voice) said it was a good job that I was a bachelor as it would have been a pretty miserable life for any wife. I tried to point out that it was precisely because I was a bachelor that I was scheduled for such a hectic travel schedule, that my married colleagues had a far more stable life, but I think it fell on deaf ears. She obviously knew something of Helene, and when I told her that I had left her behind in Holland she looked at me, quite sweetly, and said that she'd heard that Helene had been over to Bristol, but then she laughed, "It's alright Chris. You are entitled to have several girlfriends, I expect you like to play the field. You're not the stable home and commitment sort of man."

I suddenly realised that whilst smiling, whilst being warm and friendly, whilst being so pleased to see me, Susan was doing her very best to show that I was a shit husband, and that Molly was so much better off with Peter. Well, maybe she was, I'd accepted that long ago.

I learnt my lesson and after that I became quite taciturn. In fact my monosyllabic replies over the tea table began to become embarrassing. So I generated a conversation with Ralph about some of the flowers and plants I'd seen on my travels. I hit a rich vein, it soon became obvious that Ralph would dearly love to travel and see some of his favourite plants in their natural habitat. It was pure luck, but it upset Susan wonderfully, because it was obviously a sore point between her and Ralph, as she was the one who refused to travel.

After tea, Ralph suggested that myself, Molly, Jamie and Ben should play a board game around the table. The boys loved the idea, and Molly and myself were not given any option. Cluedo was chosen as apparently Ben had only just learnt to play. Cluedo was a game that had always slightly worried me, a happy family game based on all the fun of brutal violent murder. This time, it was hard on the emotions, because Molly and myself soon fell into an unspoken collusion to make sure that Ben had as much chance as Jamie, although Jamie did win the first game. That meant we had to play again, and this time the adults' pact ensured that Ben got the glory, and Molly insisted that it was a fair draw, and we should play something else.

This time it was Monopoly, which Ben said he had played before. It was quite fun, and at least Molly and myself could make Ben think about what he was doing with "Are you sure you want to do that?" or "Ben, why don't you build some houses?" and similar broad and blatant hints. It was a very happy couple of hours, even if it had huge emotional overtones.

Once Susan and Ralph had tidied the kitchen, Ralph had disappeared out into the garden, but Susan came and sat on a chair in the corner of the room, reading a magazine. At one point I asked if she and Molly had enjoyed going to Wells Cathedral yesterday, and asked what it was they went to do. Apparently there was a choral concert of Easter music, which from what I knew of both Molly and Susan, didn't sound like their sort of thing, but maybe they needed some mother and daughter time. By the look on Molly's face I got the impression that it may only have been Susan that needed some daughter time, so I let the subject drop.

Eventually I started looking at my watch, and Molly was saying this would have to be the last round, when Ralph came in and suggested that Susan and he should see the boys to bed, leaving Molly and myself to talk. Susan really bridled at the idea, apparently she was in the middle of an interesting article, and Ralph and Molly should see the boys to bed. But Ralph was calm but insistent, and a very reluctant Susan dragged two reluctant boys upstairs towards the bathroom.

I looked at Molly, "I think he's been trying to get us together at some time this weekend."

She smiled, "And Susan's being doing her best to try to make sure we don't."

There was a very pregnant pause between us, which eventually I broke, "You realise that today would have been our eleventh wedding anniversary if we'd made it, don't you."

"I'm not likely to forget. Our marriage was very special....." She seemed to want to say more, but it seemed she couldn't find the words.

So, I stepped in, "Molly, I said it earlier, but I am truly sorry that you and Peter have problems. I hope that what happened that Friday isn't the only reason. I want you to know that it was a first for me."

Her eyes clouded, I guess she was worried about what was coming next..

But I continued, "That was the first time I've ever been to bed with a married woman. I don't do that sort of thing. You do know that I was never unfaithful to you for as long as we were married...."

Her eyes filled with tears, she stood up, "Ralph said....... But you just have to rub it in......" and she ran out of the room.

I sat there. What did I say? What's got into her? I was stunned. I sat there, alone and not quite sure what to do. I went out into the hall; I could hear the noises of two excited boys getting ready for bed with Susan and Ralph trying to chivvy them on. I guess Ralph heard me moving because he came down stairs.

I was heading for the front door when Ralph called to me, "What happened?"

I looked back at him and shrugged, "I wish I knew. Try asking your daughter." We paused, I guess I was glaring at him, "I give up! Count me out next time you want to play happy families, Ralph. I think I'd better go."

He looked at me with a look of hurt disappointment, but I turned my back and left.

I got to my car and drove away, but I'd hardly got half a mile down the road before I pulled into the side. I was gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles were white. And because my hands couldn't shake, it seemed that the rest of me would shake instead. How dare she? Why does she do this to me? After all these years, she can get me this upset. And what did I do wrong? I would have thought that most wives and even ex-wives would be pleased to hear that their husbands had been faithful to them. Maybe she preferred the idea that I screwed around on her, maybe that's what she wished for. Well, I'm sorry Molly, but I loved you and stayed faithful to you until you deserted me for Peter Fucking Davies.

Back in my flat I must admit I hit the whisky bottle. I was so angry, mainly with myself. I was angry that I had worried so much about Molly and her broken marriage. I was angry that I cared so much that it made me worry. And there was no possible outcome of it that was to my benefit, and yet I still tried. I'm a bloody fool.

Thoughts like that went round and round in my head. They became more muddled and less meaningful in direct proportion to the whisky drunk! Now, that was a surprising discovery at the forefront of human knowledge!

I was in the office well before Carole on the Tuesday, but when she came in she brought me a coffee. As she put it on the desk, I was writing some notes in the margin of a report from the IT Department, and I ignored her.

In a very sarcastic tone I heard, "Well, thank you for the coffee, Carole. And did you have a good Easter, Carole? Yes, thank you, Carole. It's only having to go back to work for Mr Grumpy that's a problem."

I looked up at her for a long pause, she just stared back at me and waited.

Eventually, I cracked. "I'm sorry Carole. I had a lousy day yesterday, and a lousy night to follow. I really do hope you had a good Easter break. You deserved it. What did you do?"

She still waited, but then her face softened, and she smiled, "We went up to Stroud where I have an aged Aunt and Uncle. They are coming up to their seventieth wedding anniversary in a few months, and there was a meeting to plan their party. So I met a few cousins who I hadn't seen for quite a while, which was nice. But what went wrong for you yesterday? And it looks like you were drinking last night, going on your eyes this morning."

"Seventy years married. I only managed seven." I paused to smile at her, she obviously was waiting for the second part of my answer, "Oh, you know, you said it yourself, shit happens."

"And what particular shape did this particular turd take?" She asked, sitting down.

I thought about my reply, "Carole, if Rick told you that he had been totally faithful to you all your married life, you'd be pleased, wouldn't you?"

"Well, it's not the sort of conversation that comes along very often. But, Yes, I'd be pleased. Put it this way, if he couldn't say it, then he would regret it in a big, big way. But what's this about? It's Molly I assume."

"Yes. Jamie and Ben seemed to think that Molly might have thought that I had been unfaithful to her when we were married, that it might even have been the reason we broke up. On top of which, Molly's father Ralph kept going on at me that Molly needed to talk to me about something, I don't know what. Well, yesterday we were just getting round to this big talk that apparently was so important, and I thought I'd clear any uncertainty by saying that I had been totally faithful. So she bursts into tears and runs out of the room. Big talk over! Explain that if you can."