Back to Bristol Ch. 16

"Hi. What's the matter?"

She turned towards me, it was obvious that she'd been crying. "I saw Jeanette this afternoon."

"And? It was rough? She talked about forgiveness when I saw her."

"Oh! She was quite nice to me, very nice in fact. No, it was some of the stories she told me. You know what they were. Why didn't you tell me? Why did you let me go on believing..."

I smiled, "If I remember all the way back to Tuesday, I started to try. It didn't seem to go down very well. I take it her stories included Peter and his fondness of grappa?"

"And his determination to 'get into my pants' as apparently he so delicately put it. And that's why Peter and Piers weren't talking. He even had to lie to me about that."

"What are we having? And does it go with red or white?"

"I'm not fussed, but its just pasta with a marinara sauce. White I guess, but I think I'd like something a bit stronger."

"A G&T perhaps?"

"And I had a think about that. It was definitely a large one, and I'm pretty sure it was a very large one."

"A triple! He was out to get you relaxed."

I poured two G&T's and handed her one. "It's a single-ish I promise."

"Don't. I feel such a fool. I ruined my life, our lives, for a randy guy who just wanted to get into my pants."

"Drink your drink and we'll talk about it later. Was Jeanette still a proud grandmother?"

And we didn't really talk about anything personal until after the meal. Except for one point when we did have one short conversation about Ralph and Susan, and that Molly's childhood home would probably end up being sold, but that didn't seem to worry her.

It was after we'd sat down comfortably with mugs of coffee and the remains of our wine that she said, "OK. Tell me what I missed. How did I fall for this Lothario?"

I smiled, "Can I be a little more obvious in my questions than I was on Tuesday?"

"Yes. There's no point in being subtle."

"OK. Let's assume that Peter spotted you as a girl he fancied. That maybe have been well ahead of when he introduced himself, but my guess is that it was that lunchtime when he was in the canteen and saw you eating alone. Again, my guess is that you would have made it blatantly obvious that you were married and that you had two small children, and that you loved your family. Now, we don't know if he specialised in the challenge of married woman, or he took whatever came along, but either way, my guess is that he set his sights on you. Perhaps he had his sights on two or three others in his life at that time, at Franks he had quite a reputation."

"So, he makes sure we become friends?"

"That's what I would do if I was determined. And I guess he already knew that you'd spurned or not noticed any feelers he'd put out for a quick kill. So he knew the hunt was on. My guess is that he would try to separate you from me a little in your mind. Did he?"

She thought about that, "I don't think so. Well, maybe a bit. When I told him about how I felt, that I couldn't help you in your business life, he used to say that in his experience the wives of ambitious career guys tend to carve their own separate lives. They had separate friends, interests and relationships."

"That would be it. It's OK for you to have separate relationships."

She didn't look very pleased about that, but then admitted, "Yes, he did rather go on about building my own life."

I pressed on, "I think the other thing he would have done was just to stir you up a bit, make you think some sexy thoughts about him, every time you met. Just to make sure that you had some secret thoughts about him sexually. Nothing said, nothing overt, but a sexual awareness when you're with him."

She thought a lot about that, "Maybe. I was aware that he was a very sexy and attractive man. I wondered why he spent time with me when he had nurses swooning over him. It reinforced your other argument. I thought it must be because we were becoming such good friends."

"Well then we get to the great day. I guess that even happy chatting hospital gossip would be quite sexual, even if you didn't recognise it as being personally relevant....."

"Actually, some of the talk was about his last girlfriend. It wasn't about him and me. But it was about some girl where they had great sex, but nothing else. I thought it sounded rather sad. I felt a bit sorry for him."

I smiled, "Oh! Nice one! He reminds you how sexy he is, and how good he is at sex, and generates your feminine sympathy, all in one go. And all in a trusting, intimate friendship."

I looked at her, and she was beginning to look very uncomfortable. But I pressed on, "He was an opportunist, and he saw his opportunity. We've established that he got quite a lot of alcohol inside you. And that gave him his excuse to get you back to his flat. And then we come to the final act, when he's got you back to his lair. Now, please note that he spilt hot water down himself, not hot black coffee which would have ruined his shirt. And I bet it wasn't that hot."

"I couldn't tell. It was wet and warm by the time I got there, that's all I could say."

"But then he has to strip off his shirt and trousers. This is a man who you say was very proud of his physique. He knew what he was doing. He knew he'd look good and sexy to you. Then, when he joined you in the sitting room, after the spillage, did he have his socks on?"

She looked surprised at the question, "No."

"Men look silly wandering around in their shorts with socks on. So, after the spillage, instead of going and putting on a fresh shirt and trousers he took his socks off."

"I guess so."

"I remember you mentioned that he came up behind you in his Calvin Klein's. I assume they were a nice quality pair of boxers?"

"Yes, they were. They were black silk. He really did look rather sexy in them."

"Did he always wear black silk boxers? Everyday, I mean. You should know, you were married to him."

"No. He wears good quality branded cotton ones normally."

"But that day he just happened to be wearing a sexy pair of black silk ones. What a coincidence."

Molly drank the last of her wine and looked at me. "Hindsight is a wonderful thing, and on this occasion I literally mean hindsight. I have an image of those black boxers in my mind. And they still have the fold lines in them from coming out of a packet, brand new. Why didn't I see it then?" She paused and looked at me, "When we got to his flat he disappeared into his bedroom for a couple of minutes. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but..."

"He had time to change into a brand new pair of his seduction specials. And freshen up his cologne?"

"Probably. He smelled good." She looked at me, and her eyes welled up with tears, "But I fell for it. I still wanted it at that moment."

I looked at her, right into her eyes, "Yes you did. You shouldn't have. You did betray our marriage...."

The tears overflowed, down her cheeks.

And I continued, "He was a master. In some ways I have to admire him. He saw an opportunity, and executed it perfectly. One hundred percent successful from his point of view. But you did succumb, and you shouldn't have. But I have to admit it was far more his fault than yours, you were a victim."

"But I fell. Why didn't I see it? Girls get good at seeing that sort of thing coming. And it's taken you and Jeanette before I saw it. Why can you make it sound so obvious?"

"As I say, he was good, and he got under your radar. I see it because it's exactly what I would have done if I'd been him with his morals and his objective."

We sat in silence for quite some time, before Molly said "I think I'd like to go home now."

"And I think you should. You've had quite a day. But don't beat yourself up, it was all a long time ago, and I guess the way you and he were being pushed together by Susan, you haven't liked to be suspicious of him until now."

At the door I kissed her on the cheek, "Cheer up. Now you know the truth. Now you can deal with it."

After she left I had a weird feeling of anti-climax. At last I'd got her to see the truth. But I also had a feeling of anger and hurt. For the last couple of weeks, every emotion she'd felt, every conversation we'd had was about Peter Fucking Davies. It was Peter, Peter, Peter....

I phoned her on Friday, and asked how she was. "Thinking a lot. And getting angry" was her reply. Good, I thought. But all I did was arrange to take the boys out cycling on Sunday.

When I got them back, late on Sunday afternoon, Molly looked at me, "Have you got a minute?"

"Sure." I said and followed her into the kitchen. I could see Ralph pottering around his garden through the window.

She turned and looked at me, and held out a letter in an open envelope. "This was on the mat this morning, and there is no Sunday delivery."

I took it, it was about five hand written pages, addressed to her, and from Peter. "He delivered it himself?"

"We guess so, either late last night or early this morning. Please read it. I'm not hiding anything from you."

I did. It was mainly pleading on how they should try again, on how much he loves her, on how only he can make her happy. There was over a page on how she was deluding herself that I would ever take her back, and what an ambitious selfish shit I was, and even if I did take her back then I'd only make her unhappy. And finally, there was the sting in the tail, on how he would never agree to a divorce.

I looked at her, "What are you going to do?"

"Well, I'd already decided that I was going to see my solicitor again, as soon as possible. I'll give it to her to reply. Maybe if gets an official reply it will make him realise that he's got to let the divorce happen."

"Good idea. What were you going to see her about anyway?"

"You were right. I was seduced into ruining our marriage, and I was hoodwinked into marrying him. I should get something out of it. I want the full fifty percent, and anything else I'm entitled to."

"How will he take that? And what happens if he just doesn't do anything? If he just doesn't reply to the letters, or the divorce petition?"

"There are rules about that sort of thing. I can't remember the details, but you have to get a judge to agree that he's been given a fair time to respond and if he hasn't then the divorce goes forward anyway. But it all delays things and adds to the cost."

"And his reaction to the financial claim?"

"I think he'll hate it. When I first married him used to be very conscious that he couldn't give me as nice a house as we used to have. So he was very proud that his mother had left him enough money to afford better things. He won't like it being stripped away. But, if I have the law on my side, there won't be much he can do about it."

Good. Serves him bloody well right, I thought. But I just tried to look sympathetic. So I asked, "Will you be alright?"

"Yes. Ralph wants to come with me to the solicitors. He wants to talk about divorcing Susan."

"How do you feel about that? I can't be easy."

"I'm in two minds. I don't like the idea that my parents are getting divorced after thirty six years. But at the same time, I'm grateful that I'll never have to see Susan again. What she did was unforgivable, and I have no intention of ever trying to forgive her."

Now I was in two minds about that. I had every reason to agree with her view of Susan, but for anyone to reject their own mother so determinedly seemed sad and possibly damaging to themselves. And I did have some doubts about Ralph divorcing Susan. I could understand his disgust and anger, but after thirty six years surely there was some compromise that doesn't sweep them into the loneliness of divorce? But it was their lives and their choices, not mine.

I was thinking these thoughts when I heard Molly again, "And Chris, I want to say something else."

I looked up at her, and waited. She came and stood right in front of me, very close. "I want to say I'm sorry." She paused, "I hope you know already how deeply sorry I am for succumbing to his seduction, but that isn't what I want to say. I'm sorry that for the last few days, even today, I've been tied up in this stupid marriage to Peter. He was always a mistake, then and now. He is not the centre of my life, you are." She leant into me and went to kiss me on my lips, but then there was a moment of sadness in her eyes and she moved sideways slightly and kissed me on my cheek.

I went home that evening feeling totally muddled in my feelings. I was pleased that I was her main man, but she talked and worried about him. I was pleased that she saw Susan in a true light, but worried that no one should hate their mother. I was pleased that she saw Peter for the immoral bastard he was, but hurt that she'd married him. And so it went on. Every thought had its downside.

Partly out of duty, and partly out of need, I phoned Mum. She and Len had returned to Newcastle and were back staying with Brian and Morag. Having gone through the preliminary chat about their holiday in Scotland, and how everyone was, she obviously caught something in my voice and she interrupted something trivial that I was saying, "Chris, by the sound of it, something is troubling you. Would you like me or Len or Brian to phone you back on a landline for a proper talk?"

"Why don't you do it?" I replied.

Two minutes later my landline rang and about ninety minutes after that I put the phoned down having had a long rambling conversation with Mum. I was no wiser, but somehow I felt so much better. Mum had done nothing more than ask questions and listen to the answers, but somehow it helped.

I was just pouring myself my second whisky when my phone rang again. It was Mum, she'd had a long chat to Len. They were going to come back to Bristol on Tuesday. They'd decided that this time they were going to stay at a hotel and they invited myself and Molly to dinner at the Les Jardins on the Tuesday evening. I accepted for myself, but had to say that only Molly could accept for Molly, but that I'd speak to her.

On the Monday morning I know I was a bit short tempered, and on the second cup of coffee Carole sat down and looked at me. "Can I take it that life is a bit of a problem at the moment? The next hurtful instalment?"

So I brought her up to date, but also told her how muddled I felt. She looked at me, "When you invented this twice a week talking idea, you must have known you were launching into a long and very hard process. I'm sure there will be times when you feel you love her, other times when you will feel that you hate her. But most of the time you just won't know what you feel. But when you get to be able to answer that question, well you'll have got to the end, whatever it turns out to be."

"I'm not sure that fits your Shit Happens view of life."

"Think of yourself sitting in that sewer, with shit washing over you. You'll be grateful for the breaks when no one flushes. This isn't one of them."

I smiled. And as Carole left my office, I phoned Molly to ask her to come to dinner with Mum and Len on Tuesday evening. Of course she agreed.

Molly was waiting for me at my flat when I got in from work on Tuesday evening. I asked how the meeting with the solicitor went.

"OK. My bit was quite quick and matter of fact. She'll write to Peter telling him that he has to stop making threats and answer the Divorce Petition, or we'll go to Court and proceed anyway. And she'll lodge the financial claim. I told her to make it the reasonable maximum, was that right?"

I smiled, "It was as far as I'm concerned. He owes you, big time."

"Well after that it was mainly about Ralph and Susan. When Ralph had finished telling his story, she did ask if we wanted to make a legal claim for damages against Susan, but I said No. You don't want to, do you?"

Again I said, "No."

Then I went for a quick shower and a change of clothes. Once I was ready we were heading for Les Jardins. As we drove along, I said "You know Mum is going to quiz you on how we're getting along?"

"Don't worry. I've survived your mother's inquisitions before."

"When?"

"Before we got married. You don't think I was allowed to marry you without passing the test first, do you. I discussed it with Margot once. We reckon it was exactly the same questions, in exactly the same order for both of us, and on the same pretext of having a girl's afternoon shopping."

I laughed.

Dinner wasn't anywhere near as gruelling as I was expecting. Mum was full of stories about Brian and his family, which I guess had an ancillary function of advertising family life. Len was full of stories of their Scottish holiday. Only at one point did I hear Mum start questioning how Molly and myself were doing. I was talking to Len at the time, about what had made him and his first wife emigrate to Australia in the first place, when I noticed Mum pull Molly's arm so that they stepped away from us. Immediately, my ears pricked up, but Mum had her back to me and I couldn't hear what she was saying.

But I did hear Molly, "No. I thought all I would have to do was wear a short skirt, bat my eyelashes once or twice, and we could get back to where we once were. But, we've met four times now to talk about things, and they have been horrid. It's not Chris's fault, but I'm having to face up to so many horrible things, about myself, about other people, and about how much I hurt Chris. Susan used to say that he'd be OK, that men don't worry about these sort of things, and I believed her. I was wrong. So, don't push him, he's doing remarkably well, considering."

Mum must have said something, because Molly went on, "Considering that all I've talked about really for two weeks is Peter, one way or another. Can you think about anything worse than talking about the other man, and yet Chris hasn't complained, he has always seems to be taking my feelings into account, when things must be painful for him as well."

Again Mum said something, and Molly replied, "Yes. But I'm only just beginning to realise that."

Then I heard Len break into my attention with, "I'll just keep talking. You nod once in a while and say Yes or No, so that they think we're talking and you're not listening to them." Which amused me, and for which I was grateful.

By the time I tuned in again, Molly was saying, ".....if it doesn't work out it won't be Chris's fault, or mine. It's just that we can't put it back together. But I know he'll try, even if he doesn't know it. And at the same time, I really do have my doubts. I didn't, but these first two weeks have taught me that."

We were onto the coffee before Mum turned to Len, "I don't think there is anything we can do for these two. We can go home?"

"Tomorrow if you like, and if they have space on the plane." Len answered.

Mum turned to me, "There is nothing we can do to help, is there? But you must phone every week, and whenever a chat will help."

And so, outside Les Jardins, we said goodbye. I did promise to go to Australia for Christmas, whatever happens. And I did thank her so much, for coming all this way just in the hope that she could give me my happiness back. It was out of her hands now, maybe it was out of mine and Molly's hands as well.

In the car, going back, Molly did tell me that she'd started talking to Heather Washington. Apparently it was very informal, they had just agreed to get together for two lunchtimes a week, in Heather's office with Molly supplying the sandwiches. So far they've got no further than Molly telling her story, and Heather asking what aspects of it trouble Molly the most.

"And what did you choose?" I asked.

"Why I got to such a state that I married Peter. Its something that I don't understand, and I was there. And I know it troubles you, probably more than me."

"Any idea what she's going to do, what her methodology is?"