Back to Bristol Ch. 09

"It sounds fine to me. See you Monday, then." He knocked back the final drops of whisky, and I showed him out.

After he'd gone I topped up my whisky and sipped it gently. I felt tired, very tired. Maybe I was fighting impossible odds. If Molly was determined to save her marriage, then I guess I'll have to move on. She can make it so awkward for me to stay here, to continue the easy access I've had with my sons for these last few months. In the end, the Mother always wins.

And on that sad note I went to bed. But I woke up far more optimistic in the morning. Wednesday promised to be a good day at work, and the weather was warm and sunny to support it. Just before lunch I saw Myra, or more accurately, she saw me.

She came up behind me in a corridor, "I've got a bone to pick with you." She smiled.

"A good bone or a bad bone?" I asked.

"Possibly a very good bone."

"Well, how about you pick it with a drink after work. I need some company at about six to six thirty."

"Sounds good, but why? What am I letting myself in for?"

"Nothing terrible. I'm meeting my big brother, Brian, at the Llandoger Trow at six thirty. Knowing him he'll be late, and it would be nice to be having a drink with a very pretty girl while I wait."

"Flattery will get you everywhere. Will he have dastardly black secrets to tell me about the true Chris Bennett?"

"I'm sure a clever girl like you can get him onto enough embarrassing anecdotes if you try. We can go in separate cars, see you there at about quarter past six?"

And so I was now even more looking forward to seeing Brian. I'm sure he'll note that I'm having a drink with a very sexy girl when he arrives.

I had one of my junior staff lunches that day. I thoroughly enjoyed it, they were a bright, talkative bunch. But then one of them asked me directly, "If you got rid of Dennis Murrell because he accused you of trying to steal Peter Davies's wife, then why don't you actually get rid of Peter Davies who obviously must have made the accusation in the first place?"

Before I could answer, the representative from Marston Abbey interjected, "You might as well. He just works in his room all day. He doesn't...." he paused to find the right word, ".....contribute."

I answered, "Because, to the best of my knowledge, he doesn't sit in the dining room spouting about how he doesn't like ITI corporate policy. As Dennis disagreed with our owner's style he chose to resign. And that's all I'm saying on the matter, except for this, if any of us has a real personal problem, like a marriage in trouble, then I hope all of us would treat that person with a degree of tolerance. It can't go on for ever, we have a business to run, but giving a colleague a bit of space, and not gossiping about them seems only decent. And, for the record, I am not trying to steal Peter Davies's wife."

After that someone had the decency to change subject. I hoped I'd help stop the gossip. But I also noted that I needed a word with Piers McBaine about how well Peter Davies was working at the moment.

Later, I got to the pub about two minutes before Myra. I hadn't even ordered a drink, I was still looking round trying to see if she was there when she came through the door.

"I saw you walking up the road in front of me." She greeted me.

"First to the bar and all that." I countered, "What would you like?"

"A G&T please."

When we'd got our drinks and found a table, I had to ask, "So, what's this bone then?"

"Well, it's a complaint really. Do you remember saying that I would meet Mr Right on the London train the other week? Well, he wasn't there. I looked."

I smiled, "Did you look in the last carriage? I had it stocked up with handsome millionaires especially for you. Don't tell me you didn't look in there."

"No. But anyway, you are forgiven, because maybe he was sitting opposite me on the Exeter to Bath train last Friday." She smiled, and was obviously excited.

"Do tell."

"Well, there was just this very attractive man sitting opposite me. We got talking, it turned out that he is an archaeologist from Exeter Uni, he was just going up to London to see his folks for the weekend. His name is Will Rowland, Dr Will Rowland actually, and he gave me his number when I got off at Bath."

"And?"

"And I phoned him on Monday, and we've got a date on Friday evening."

I smiled, "Great."

"It'll probably come to nothing. But it was so exciting just to meet someone."

"An archaeologist is a good choice. Wasn't it Agatha Christie who's husband was one, and she used to say that the older she got the more interesting she appeared to her husband?"

"I'm not marrying him yet."

After that she asked after my love life, but I assured her it was non-existent. And we generally chatted on until suddenly I was aware that Brian was standing at the table.

"Wiss, it's so good to see you." He said as we hugged.

I introduced him to Myra, and explained that Wiss was as close as a young boy could get to the name of his new baby brother. Unfortunately, it stuck.

Having got him a beer, we had a fairly easy conversation. Myra knew quite a bit about William Wordsworth, and his time in Somerset with his friend, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and the birth of the Romantic Movement. A subject that left me a little dry.

Soon we were through our first drinks and Myra said she was leaving. I did invite her to join us for a meal, but she was adamant, probably wisely, as mine and Brian's conversation was probably going to be a lot about Mum and Len and our children and our memories.

As she walked away, Brian watched her rear retreating. He winked at me, "Nice."

"Very nice." I replied, smiling.

"You haven't? You have... you lucky bastard."

"Never you mind. But she is a lovely girl, and a good colleague." I added with emphasis.

We decided that rather than stay in the King Street area for something more to eat and drink, we'd go up to my place and dump Brian's things, whilst I was still sober to drive. Then we'd go out for a meal and alcohol.

We ate in a pleasant bar café, but afterwards we retired to a good old pub, somewhere where men can do serious drinking. We talked about Mum and Len and I asked after Morag.

We were on about our third pint when he asked, "So what happened to Helene then? Come to that, what happened to that Myra girl, if you let her slip through your fingers?"

I laughed, "Myra was just one of those ships that pass in the night. We're good friends and colleagues, but nothing more. We kidded ourselves that we might be for a moment, but we aren't."

"How about Helene? She was nice. In fact, her legs were wonderful, all the way up to her bum."

"She was, and she's a lovely girl, but No. Not for me. It got close though, bloody close. But I'm no good at the commitment bit. You and Morag manage it, but it's not for me."

He looked at me for a long pause, "Don't tell me you're still hung up on that bitch Molly. She was a slut. She screwed around on you, and when you found out she went on doing it. Christ Almighty, Wiss! You're not still hung up on her, are you?"

"No, I'm not. But she's not a bitch or a slut. And she is your nephews' mother, and she's a very good one."

"Do you see her?"

"Yes. Of course I do, she's my sons' mother. And I would like to build a decent friendship with her, but that's nigh on impossible."

"Why?"

"Because..... because there are too many memories, too much hurt, too much anger... I don't know."

"It's been what? Four years, going on five. You should be over her by now. Was it her that stopped you committing to Helene? Does she still have that hold over you? Are you still yearning for that cheating bitch?"

"I wish you wouldn't call her that. She fell in love with another guy. I'm sure she didn't mean to. I know she wouldn't have meant it to happen. But it did." I looked at him, I didn't like attacks on Molly. "It's the experience of her rather than anything else. I knew, or thought I knew, that I loved Molly. There was a certainty in my life with her. But I don't think I know what love is anymore. That's what Molly's left me with, insecurity and uncertainty." I sank the rest of my pint, "Go and get us another one. Drinking's better than talking about women."

When Brian returned, he asked, "Seriously, do you feel insecure? You used to be the most confident man I knew. Arrogant bastard would be a good summary." He said provocatively.

I smiled, "Good job you're my brother. No, I don't feel insecure. It's just that I was awfully fond of Helene, but I knew I didn't feel a quarter of what I had felt for Molly." I paused and took a long draught of beer, "Molly was my reason for living; Helene was a very beautiful girlfriend who I shared my life with. I knew I didn't feel as much for Helene, and if what I felt for Molly wasn't good enough, then what chance did I have with Helene?"

"It sounds to me that you're still hung up on her. She cheated on you, Wiss. She decided to go to bed with another man when married to you. That's naughty. She shouldn't have done it. You do understand the theory of marriage, don't you? You're entitled to hate her bloody guts."

"I don't hate her guts. I like her, I have a special bond with her. She's the mother of my children, and we had wonderful years together. But she loves and is married to someone else. Now lay off, please Brian. I've had a bellyful of Molly lately."

"You sounded tired when you said that?"

"When it comes to Molly, I am. You saw me in Apeldoorn last summer. I was happy. OK, I didn't love Helene as much as she'd have liked. But I was happy. I come back here, and all sorts of old feelings, old yearnings, come to the surface. And it's pointless, and I wish they wouldn't." I looked at him, "I'm sure Mum told you, Molly's got problems in her new marriage, and I just wish she'd sort them out and we can all get back to getting on with our lives."

We paused and drank our beers in silence. But then Brian smiled, "Why did you leave him with any balls anyway? Then he wouldn't have been worth marrying"

I smiled, "Don't think I didn't dream about it. He works at Franks you know. I'm his boss. I bet that gives him more sleepless nights than it gives me."

Brian smiled, took a drink of his beer, and said, "I guess you can't really touch an employee, not these days. Pity."

"Oh, I worked for a while subtly undermining him. But I don't bother to do that now. I don't really care about him. Not anymore."

"But you care about Molly." He said it as a statement, but I took it as a question.

"Yes. I suppose I do. But there's no future in that. I'm making a big effort to care about me, and not care about her. It's hard going, but I'll get there. Now, let's talk about something really important. Like football, for instance. Franks have a box at Bristol City, you know."

I knew that would get Brian. He's been a loyal Bristol City fan all his life, even when living in Newcastle, and that's a brave thing to be up there. "You've worked there since February, and you haven't told me about that. Now what was I saying about removing balls? That was a traitorous omission, little brother........."

We went on drinking until closing time, when we went back to my flat. I was up at the usual time, and having dropped Brian off at the station, into the office feeling slightly hung over, but otherwise OK.

Carole handed me a sheaf of estate agent details of apartments to rent. A quick flick through and I realised there was quite a range. "I'll read them tonight, and then tomorrow we can see if I can do some viewing of any interesting ones on Saturday or Sunday."

Otherwise, Thursday and Friday passed without incident. On Saturday and Sunday, I did go viewing flats, and found one I liked in Clifton, near the Suspension Bridge, with views across the Avon Gorge. I also walked the shops a bit, looking for ideas for a birthday present for Jamie. I remembered that the boys' birthdays and Christmas were one of the many times I missed the partnership of marriage, when I could talk about ideas with a partner. Helene was great at that, but then she had a couple of nephews and nieces that were conveniently a couple of years older than Jamie and Ben, so they acted as the forerunners for my two.

Bank Holiday Monday started OK, but then Ralph phoned me, "Yes, Ralph?"

"Chris, it's a bit hectic here at the moment. My overseas visitors have arrived. Is there any chance that you could put back coming round for the boys until after lunch, say? We'll feed them here, if that's OK."

"Sure, that's not a problem. I'm in a mellow mood, I'll collect them at two thirty. How's that?"

"We'll be ready for you."