Beware the Roasburies! Pt. 02

"I've said I'm sorry," she said with a hint of annoyance, "It's too late now. Look, if you come over next weekend, I'll make some time and I won't forget. I've been wrapped up in my work. I will make some time on Saturday, honestly. In any case, there's something I need to talk to you about."

"OK, That's a date. Confirm it on Friday next 7.30, OK? Have a good weekend, give my regards to the family and to Durham," and I hung up.

She rang back immediately, her voice showed she was worried.

Then it crossed my mind and it was like a thunderbolt: she was phoning from a phone box. You could tell by the beeps telling her to put her money in. That was very odd: Derek had a phone and was an easy going, generous sort of bloke. There would have been no problem about her phoning from there. Why was she out somewhere after midnight in a phone box?

The thought flashed across my mind in a fraction of a second, but what was she saying?

"Graham, I didn't know the train would be delayed for three hours. I had a bad week, the head of this school gives the impression he doesn't want students, I've got an awful class and the class teacher seems to disappear for hours. I'm shattered. Just let up will you?"

She was clearly annoyed. Annoyed? After 'forgetting' to phone me? After going to her brother's instead of me? Well, now I was annoyed, nay, angry!

"Not too shattered to get on a train to Durham 140 miles away, when you could have come 40 miles to Manchester to a quiet flat with no noisy children. In any case if you really loved me I should have been the first person you turned to. We are engaged to be married for heaven's sake, or perhaps you've forgotten that? Seems so.

"Never mind, I just wanted to see you. Natural enough. You do know it's been three weekends now; this is the fourth, and I miss you badly. Don't worry yourself, I'm clearly not that important. Can't be helped, I suppose."

"Graham I'll see you next weekend. I'll ring you at the usual time, I promise." She sounded as if she was doing me a favour. It sounded dogged, hollow, somehow wrong.

We signed off with expressions of mutual love which sounded automatic from both of us, and I grabbed some milk and stalked off to bed.

I was irked and couldn't work out why. Was I being irrational and unfair? No! Penny needed a break and went to her brother, not me. I could have been invited as well, but actually I would have refused - sleeping on the sofa in their living room and being woken at seven by the kids was not my idea of an idyllic weekend. It certainly was not the place to go if you were overtired.

She knew I was going to insist on seeing her the next day. Did she go to Derek's to avoid me? Why would she do that?

Hang about! Why was she phoning from a phone box when there was a phone in the house? And there was definitely something different in her tone. Yes, there was! Distant. Flat. It gave me an uneasy feeling.

I sat in bed and listened to the one a.m. news. My troubles seemed to gain a certain perspective. Whatever happened at least we had a future, there were plenty of people in this torn battered world who had no future at all.

I slept.

Saturday 9 May 1970

I went to see my parents on Saturday afternoon, a folk club that night, and on Sunday rang bells and stayed for morning service. Then saw some mates at the pub at lunchtime, followed by watching a local 'village' cricket match with more beer. The weather was sunny and warm, and one never knows if it might be the last sun of the summer! In my drunken state I hit on the bright idea of going over to Liverpool on Monday night to ring at Penny's local church, Monday being their practice night.

It did not occur to me that if she was overwhelmed by work, she would hardly be going ringing.

I'd decided not to ring Penny on Saturday at Derek's, and I was not at home all Sunday. It was before the era of widely available answering machines, and long before the option to dial 1471 to see who I'd missed. We'd not made any arrangement to phone, so I decided I'd just go on Monday and surprise her. At the very least I could spend a little time with her before coming back. Just seeing her and having a hug and a kiss would be enough.

If there was something I'd done that had bothered her, I needed to talk to her face to face. Perhaps there was, she had said she wanted to talk to me. My guilt at what I'd done with Colette resurfaced. She could not know about that though, could she?

--

Chapter Seven

Monday 11 May 1970

On Sunday night I warned Zena that I would not be driving home the next evening, and she said she would take her own car.

Next day I left work a little early to miss the rush hour in Manchester, and drove to Liverpool. I arrived at 5.30, hoping to take her out for a meal before ringing practice, but she was not at home. I returned to the car, and moved it to where I could see the front door and her arrival, finding a space about 50 yards away. I had some water, so settled down to wait. She would have to come back to change: she would hardly be ringing in her teaching clothes. If she wasn't ringing she would be coming home to work anyway.

Ten minutes later she came into view, walking briskly and entering the house before I could get out of the car. I was just getting out, when I saw one of the ringers from the church, who I remembered was called Martin Greaves, and who was at college with Penny. He was hurrying up the road and something made me get back in the car and watch.

He rang the bell, she came to the door, and then my spirits dropped like a stone. She kissed him. It was a long, warm, sensuous kiss with her body pressed against his. Then they went inside.

The feeling was akin to panic. What to do? Go to the front door and ring the bell? Surprise them? See them pretend to be only acquaintances? No. I'd wait and see. No bell ringing for me. I'd watch it out to the end.

Well, I did, and it made things clearer but no less painful. I knew she'd got teaching practice the next day, and likely as not needed to prepare or do marking. I waited over an hour; they were no doubt having a meal. At ten past seven they emerged, and walked off down the street hand in hand. They looked for all the world like a loving couple.

I followed at a discrete distance on foot until they entered the church tower door, and then, knowing I had at least an hour, went to the pub and had a sandwich. I had little appetite but knew I needed food.

I was in position when the bells were rung down, and watched as the loving couple retraced their steps to the house. At the door they kissed again briefly before she let them in. I returned to the car, and settled myself. It was 9.45. I waited until 1.00 am and he still had not emerged. There was no way I was going to ring her doorbell now. The room was at the back of the house, I waited another half hour, then went round the back. The light was out. I drove home.

The roads were empty, and it was just as well, for my mind was not really on my driving. Neither were my thoughts in any sense logical, they swirled around my head. She was in a relationship with Martin Greaves. She was engaged to me. Was she going to leave me? Was that what she wanted to talk about? Did I want her to stay with me after that exhibition?

Now I knew I had been unfaithful, so while I was upset she was with someone else, I could not in conscience feel angry. But upset? Certainly. Worried and uncertain now when I had been so certain before. And I did feel angry anyway.

By the time I got to my flat I felt hopeless, and I really didn't want to know her any more. Then resentful. OK, so I fell. I was seduced, after all, it was a one night failing, but Penny was in more of a relationship than that. What's more it had to have been going on since before my scene with Colette for them to behave that way. There was affection, warmth, and he stayed the night when she had work the next morning. I had forgotten that I too stayed the night with Colette and on that occasion we slept.

Tuesday 12 May 1970

The next night, after a day when I was pretty useless at work (luckily there were no meetings with clients), I was back in Liverpool, parked 50 metres down from her house again, ready for her to arrive home. We would talk about this, we would clear the air and either break up or stay together. No more uncertainty.

That night was different. It was worse. I was expecting her to be alone, working on her lessons. She had told me how long were the hours she had to stay up working.

Tonight was different, for he arrived before her and let himself in with a key. I knew he didn't live there, so she had given him a key. Had she given me a key? No, but he got one.

I was really angry now, and despondent. She arrived half an hour later and let herself in. I gritted my teeth and waited it out. As I waited I pictured her room. There was nowhere to sleep except the bed. I couldn't imagine him sleeping on the floor. What would he do while she worked? There was no television, and he brought nothing with him in the way of books beyond a briefcase.

Wait a minute. This wasn't the first time he'd stayed over. Neither was the day before. It seemed to be a regular arrangement, so he could have moved some of his own stuff in. He too must have been on teaching practice.

Again I waited until after one, and then I wandered to the back of the house again and looked up at her window. Again the light was out. No wonder she didn't want me over.

I drove home defeated. That was the end for me. I had wasted a year and a half of my life on the woman, and for what? I would waste no more. Yes, I was depressed, I was hopeless. There was that dull gaping emptiness in the pit of my stomach. I had loved her, still loved her, still wanted her, but she'd gone after someone else, chosen someone else. So why in hell's name did she say yes when I proposed? Why hadn't she broken up with me first? That would have been honest at least.

Wednesday 13 May 1970

Next morning I awoke and found it was the thirteenth of the month. Not Friday though. Perhaps there was something in the superstition. It didn't help my mood.

I found myself walking into the office very early, not remembering anything of the journey back the night before or of going to bed the previous night, nor indeed anything of getting up and getting to work in the morning. Did I remember to pick Zena up? She was in her office so I assumed I had. I remembered no conversation though. For someone with a photographic memory this was especially worrying.

I had a number of problem contracts to work on, so found the most difficult one and immersed myself in that; anything to forget Penny and what she'd done. I would not waste another day like yesterday.

In fact I became so immersed that I missed lunch and was deep in the labyrinth of clauses and sub-clauses. Whoever drew this up in such a complicated manner was hiding something nasty somewhere and I was going to find it. There was cheating afoot in this document, and I was actually very angry about it! I wonder why?

Way after finishing time I was still intent on discovering the skullduggery, when Zena poked her head into my office.

"Stop that, time's up!" she said sharply. "Something's up with you. You've had a scowl on your face all day, you said nothing all the way to work, and you've said nothing to anyone all day. Leave it and come talk to me."

It shocked me. Before today the only time we'd talked was on the journey to and from work and during bridge. It was surface chatter, nothing serious. Now her pretty face was creased with worry, and my startled gaze lighted upon her jet black hair, her slender neck and the curve of her firm breast tops revealed by her v-necked jumper. Nice.

My second thought was, Why's she so worried?

It must have shown in my face. She stood with her hands on her hips waiting. I put my work away. Then stood.

"Let's go for a coffee," she said. "Then I'll take you out for dinner."

I was so surprised that I simply went along with it. I also felt so drained, so exhausted, that I let her take charge, and we found ourselves before long in a Kardomah coffee house with two coffees set before us. We were travelling in my car as usual, but she, after a worried glance at me, had asked to drive and I had let her.

"Spill," she ordered and waited expectantly.

"My fiancée. My engagement, it's off," I began as an opener, and stopped. She looked briefly shocked then recovered.

"Mm?" she encouraged and waited again.

"You really want to know?"

"I really want to know."

"Penny rang me very late on Friday, after midnight, she said she was at her brother's for the weekend, so I decided to go see her on Monday night, do a bit of bell ringing with her, perhaps stay the night and come back here early Tuesday morning. I got there early and waited for her to arrive. She arrived and then a ringer from the church arrived soon after, and they kissed at the door."

"Friends' kiss?"

"A lot more than that. They went in, and I suppose they had a meal, then went hand in hand for ringing practice. They were like lovers, cuddling up and kissing from time to time."

"Who made the running?" she interrupted.

It stumped me, and I tried to remember. It was definitely him, but she went along with it willingly. I told her so.

"Carry on," she said.

"They came back to her house and went in. I waited until after one, went to look up at her window, the light was out, so I came home. Yesterday I went back to talk to her about it, and again got there first. Martin, that's his name, arrived and let himself in with a key! She arrived second, and they did not emerge again. About one, I again went round the back of the house to look up at her window. The light was out. There's nowhere to sleep in that room but the one bed. So that's it."

"Come on," she said, both of us having finished our coffees. "Dinner!"

She took me to a medium priced restaurant that served good simple food. She made no comment until we had finished the meal and were once again drinking coffee.

"Odds are," she began her assessment, "that they are having sex, but that's not your main problem, is it? It's the fact that she's involved with him. They're in some sort of relationship, that's clear. That's cheating big time, Graham, no two ways about it, and it's wiped you out, hasn't it? We've all been worried about you this week."

"I just don't want anything more to do with her," I stated baldly. "You're right, whether she's fucking him isn't the problem, it's the fact they are almost living together while I'm not in evidence. And the deception of course - so much work, can't spare half an hour on a Saturday. I'm not surprised she doesn't want to see me."

"And they have been living together, you know," she added. "From what you say, they were already in a relationship before you found them."

"She kept putting me off going to see her. Said she had too much work. I haven't seen her for four weeks."

Zena paused and then added, "I wonder if she really visited her brother?"

A deafening silence ensued. That comment really threw me. While it was clear she had been keeping the truth from me, it had never occurred to me that she would go out of her way to lie directly, barefaced. Now I knew for certain why she was phoning from a call box on the Friday night: she wasn't in Durham at all. If she'd lied, then it cemented my attitude to her. She was gone.

Zena drove me back to my flat: I'd been drinking quite a lot at dinner, she'd seen to that, so her driving was an unspoken but obvious action on her part. I appreciated it and made no attempt to put her off.

There was a letter from Penny on the mat. I picked it up and put it on the table.

"Open it," Zena was in charge that night. Obeying her took all the effort I could muster. I opened it.

Dear Graham

I missed you over the weekend and even more after not getting a letter on Monday or Tuesday.

The weekend with Derek was just what I needed, I was so tired and I really needed the break. I would have asked you to come, but I know how much you hate their sofa, and they wouldn't let you in my bed - so straight laced!

Ringing went well on Monday, I can plain hunt now and keep in time reasonably well. I needed the break for an hour, and it was a bit of exercise. Teaching Practice is going reasonably well, the teacher is staying in the classroom more now, but the head is still stand-offish. Long hours each evening: I'm up late and getting short of sleep.

I'll phone you at nine tomorrow, Wednesday at 7.30. Till tomorrow,

Love,

Penny.

I snorted in derision and threw the letter to Zena, who read it, raised eyebrows, but did not comment.

At half past eight the phone rang. I answered it.

"Hi Graham," It was Derek!

"Hi Derek," I answered. Now I would find out. "Penny enjoyed her weekend with you."

"Huh, weekend? Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning, but as you say, it seemed to settle her. I think she was missing you though. Anyway, when she rings you, can you tell her she left her toothbrush and a sweater behind?"

"Will do," I said, with that now familiar sinking feeling.

We chatted a while and then rang off.

"That was Derek, where Penny was staying over the weekend," I said to Zena's inquiring gaze. "You remember I told you she rang me late on Friday saying she was at Derek's after a long train journey? Derek just said that she didn't arrive until Saturday afternoon."

Zena simply nodded.

"Derek said she'd left her toothbrush and sweater behind, so she really did go, just not when she said she did."

The phone rang promptly at nine, and Zena dived for it and answered before I could stop her.

"Graham Proctor's residence."

"Hold on I'll get him for you. Graham darling, it's someone called Penny," she shouted as if I was not nearby. She was grinning broadly.

She handed me the phone. Her little ruse countered my anger at Penny's lies.

"Hello," I made my voice sound dull.

"Who's that?" she asked sharply without a hello.

"It's me. It's been so long since we last met you've forgotten what I sound like." I know I was sarcastic but I thought I had reason.

"Oh, Graham, stop harping on about the weekend," she snapped. "Who answered the phone? That clear enough for you?"

"Zena." I answered.

"Do I know her?"

"I have mentioned her to you."

"So what's she-"

"She's a friend. I think I'm allowed friends. We had some dinner together after I was working late."

"Oh."

Silence. I had no intention of helping the conversation along. In any case I had nothing to say. I knew enough about her already.

"You didn't write." It was an bare accusation.

"No. You are clearly far too busy to be reading my stuff. Apparently you need every spare minute. I was surprised you had the time to go ringing. You don't have time for me to visit you even for half an hour. I assume you've been up really late the last two nights."

"Yes, if you must know, I was up very late. I needed the ringing to keep me sane, and you know I always have time for your letters. What's the matter? Why are you so upset?"

"I would have thought that would be obvious by now. I wanted to see you last weekend. I had planned to come over on Friday after you rang. Just as well I didn't, eh? What would I have found?" I put as much sarcasm and accusation into it as I could.

"Well, yes," she said sounding worried, "I wouldn't have been there. I'd be on my way to Derek's."

There it was again: the lie.

"Oh yes, Derek's," I paused, then, "Anyway must dash. Got to get Zena home. By the way, Derek rang. Said you left your toothbrush and pullover behind."