Nemesis - Constance

The two security guards she was in conversation with (both in the late fifties or early sixties) were obviously enthralled by Sherrie.

As I got close, she drew away from them and took hold of my arm.

"Where we going?" she asked.

"My hotel first, I must get changed."

"No time handsome, we've got less than four hours. My train goes at nine."

"But..."

"No buts Steve. We've got lots to talk about."

I acquiesced and, followed by one of the security guards who insisted on carrying Sherrie's holdall, we went to my car.

Sherrie's holdall and briefcase stashed in the boot along with mine, I drove us to a public house, just outside town, that I knew served food all day.

We talked for a while and ate an unhurried meal. Sherrie not so much demanding, more inviting me to get everything off my chest and air my thoughts. I don't know what it was about Sherrie, but I felt I could talk to her, and instinctively knew that what I said would not be common knowledge the following day.

When I'd had my say, Sherrie took me by surprise by going on the attack and told me why she'd conned an evening meal out of me.

"Steve, you've got to do something about yourself, my friend. All the female staff in the office are saying that you aren't the same fun loving bloke you used to be. Mind you, they all admit that they can't blame you, under the circumstances. But honestly they'd like to see some sign that the old Steve is still in you."

"I'm not with you, Sherrie?"

"No, I don't suppose you can see it yourself. Steve, you've always been a giggle to work with, even I was aware of that, when we've worked on the same projects... what... what four, five times. And even then we've never worked closely together.

"You do realise that it's been almost standard procedure in your company for all the females to take their "man problems" to good old Steve in Logistics and Planning for yonks? And from what I hear, some of the lads used seek you out for advice about their wives and girlfriends as well."

"They did? That's news to me. Anyway even if they did, I've not got what you might call a good track record in marital relations anymore, have I?"

"Nonsense Steve, the reason everyone used to come to you was that you showed them how to laugh... well at least see the funny side and laugh about things. Apparently you were ace when it came to advising the girls about birthday and Christmas presents to get for their men. And you weren't too slow in advising them to dump the no hopers, or bad at suggesting ways for them to dump them.

"Did you know for instance that, quite unofficially, the girls in Human Resources tell new girls that if they get any problems with the any of the office would be gigolos and they don't want to make an official complaint; then they should seek you out, and have a chat?"

"That is news to me, but I can recall..."

"Yes I suspect you can. But Steve, everybody is scared to say two words to you now! They say you walk around the office like a bear with a sore head. They miss the old Steve they can have a laugh and joke with.

"Look we all understand that you're upset, but living in that damned hotel and never going out... Well, that just isn't right, for you anyway. You need to get out and... well, start dating again. There're plenty of eligible women around the office."

"Sherrie, I believe I understand what you are saying. But aren't you the one who told me that it's bad news to date work colleagues. Besides we're out this evening aren't we?"

"Yes we're out for dinner, and I asked you out, remember?"

"Yeah, but who's going to finish up paying?" I grinned back at her.

"See? That's the Steve the girls are missing in the office. The bloke who's sees the funny side in everything. Even if I am going to order the most expensive desert they've got on the menu here." Sherrie smiled back at me.

"I get your point and I'll try to leave my personal troubles at home in future."

"Do better than that Steve, find yourself a nice flat or something and get out in the evenings. Even take the risk of asking some of the eligible females around the office out on a date. Look, I steer clear of my work colleagues because... well, I can look a bit cheap sometimes when I dress up to go out and enjoy myself. Some would be Romeo's take it wrong, and think I'm... easy. I'm sure you know what I mean? And as I told you before - trying to teach the average male how to use a computer program, when he's staring down at my cleavage, doesn't usually prove to be very successful. I've found that out from experience."

I of course challenged Sherrie and told her that she could never look cheap and we both grinned at each other; then Sherrie ordered her desert. Not the most expensive on the menu, by the way.

Somewhat oddly, after that we talked about Sherrie's life and aspirations. I learnt that she was twenty-two. Honestly I'd always thought she was about nineteen, which was a little bit stupid of me. I'd first met Sherrie when we opened an office in Wales, about eighteen months before and she'd known her onions then. For some reason, maybe the way she dressed, I'd somehow thought of her as a perpetual teenager. The first time I'd seen Sherrie dressed up to go out, had been that evening I told you about, when she was meeting that young electrician lad in the hotel bar.

I drove Sherrie to the station to catch her train and she thanked me for a nice meal and an enjoyable evening. Then, as she got onto her train she said we've have to do it again sometime. I suppose I must have agreed with her.

-----

The next day in the office I tried my best to plaster a smile on my face, when I could remember to. You know it must have worked, I noted that after a day or so, folks no longer vacated the tea room the instant I stepped in the door and people who had avoided my desk since... Well, they no longer did and often stopped to pass the time of day.

That same lunchtime I visited a few estate agents a got myself a list of furnished flats for rent locally. I think I was still a little shy of buying, and if life in a flat on my own didn't work out, then I could always retreat to the hotel again. Well, I assume that was the thought at the back of my mind.

-----

That Thursday I received an interesting call from Ms Clarkson.

"How does two hundred and fifty thousand sound to you, Steve?" Were the first words she said to me.

"Sorry, I'm not with you Ms Clarkson."

"Copland, apparently he's not enthused with all the press coverage he's been getting. That man's got something to hide! Anyway things are quieting down in the press and we thought it was about time to hint that an alienation of affection case might be in the offing. I suspect that Constance's legal advisors have threatened something as well, but I can't be sure. Anyway Copland's people came back with an offer of fifty thousand for us to go away. We've talked it over and they're up to two hundred and fifty now. We might even squeeze another twenty five or so, out of the buggers, if we take it to the wall."

"Go for it Ms Clarkson, take the bugger for every penny you can. But preferably settle out of court. Constance isn't my favourite person in the world at the moment, but embarrassing her in court doesn't leave me totally unscathed."

"Very well Steve. The press will probably get hold of it anyway. But you know the form, an undisclosed sum. Which is almost as good as Copland admitting he's an... yes well I was going to use your description of him for a moment."

-----

Less than a week later, Ms Clarkson informed me that I would be three hundred thousand pounds richer, once I'd signed on the dotted line. I went straight round there and made my mark. Whilst I was doing so, Ms Clarkson hinted that Constance might soon be buying a new home of her own, and that she'd probably pay for it cash. Ms Clarkson still wasn't sure of what grounds Constance had used to stitch-up Copland. But she suspected that it was probably personal injury.

-----

I did move into a pretty reasonable flat a week or so later. It was further from my office but came with free parking, which was at a premium around that area.

It was a one bedroom, with a nice large lounge-cum-diner, and a surprisingly spacious, well-equipped kitchenette. The washing machine and dryer were in the bathroom, but the room was big enough that you hardly noticed them.

I'm not sure if it was the cash Copland had stuffed into my bank accounts or that I'd tried to take Sherrie's advice. But by the end of the month I was feeling a lot better about myself and I was stopping for a drink after work now and again with some of the lads.

-----

There were three of us sitting around my desk, a work colleague who hadn't been with the company very long, maybe a month or so, and Bob, my boss. I was just in the process of showing them a spreadsheet I'd been working on, when the computer screen went blank.

A second or so later the dreaded blue-screen appeared, but it was blank. Then words began to appear in the top left hand corner, one character at a time.

"Hi Steve! Guess who's buried down here in the depths of hell, playing with the servers."

Almost panicking, I rapidly began typing

"Sherrie, I'm in the middle of something. I've got people with me!"

Almost instantly the message came back

"Whoops sorry folks, official business honestly. Are we on for tonight Steve?"

I was surprised when my boss reached past me and began typing.

"Hi Sherrie, its Bob. Of course Steve's taking you out this evening, the bugger don't get out enough nowadays!"

The message came back.

"Cheers Bob! Same place same time Steve. And remember my train goes at nine!"

Then the screen went blank again, before my spreadsheet reappeared.

"Sorry about that." I said to my boss.

"About what?" Was his reply. Then he added, "Nice girl, that Sherrie!"

Our new colleague was sitting there with a bewildered expression on his face, but finally asked, "Who's Sherrie?"

"Someone a little closer to your age than mine." I told him.

"Give over Steve." Bob said, "She's just right for you! Christ, you need someone to liven up your life a little!"

"Bob, I'm twelve years her senior!"

"So, what's twelve years between friends? Christ mate, your mind is too fixated on numbers."

After that we got back to the calculations on my spreadsheet again. Making small changes here and there and discovering what effect they were going to make to the "bottom line!"

I suppose a half hour must have passed when the spreadsheet vanished again. And another message appeared.

"Sorry Steve, I need a chaperone for lunch today?"

"He'll meet you in reception at twelve." Bob typed.

"Thanks Bob." Came back and then my spreadsheet reappeared.

"I will?" I asked Bob, probably annoyed that he'd twice made private appointment on my behalf.

"Of course, you will. That was a request for assistance; when have you ever turned a lady down? It doesn't matter who asked you, the old Steve would have said yes!"

"Have I changed that much?"

"No more than to be expected under the circumstance my friend. But lately we've seen the old Steve slowly returning. Now let's get on with these figures."

-----

I quickly discovered why Sherrie had asked me to go to lunch with her. She had a colleague along who I do believe had aspirations. He was certainly pissed-off that I was along cramping his style during their lunch break. I'd say that he was also disappointed to learn that Sherrie and I were having dinner together that evening, and consequently wouldn't be travelling back with him on the same train.

Sherrie made a good job of keeping on the opposite side of her work colleague. Honestly I was surprised that he wasn't getting the message. But maybe he thought a little too much of himself and his charms as some young men are wont to do.

Later in the day I took a wander down to the depths where the company servers lived and had a quiet word with him when Sherrie wasn't around. As I made my way back up to my own floor it struck that it had been a long time since I'd been forced to have that conversation with any of the gigolos in the building.

----

Sherrie looked as delightful as she usually did outside working hours, when I met her in reception. The other security guard took the honour of carrying her holdall to my car that evening.

Sherrie told me that her work colleague that day was a new bloke with her company, but he knew her from college. Or rather was fully aware of what Sherrie looked like in civvies, as she liked to call them. She also thanked me for whatever I'd said to him during the afternoon.

That evening we, or rather, Sherrie, did a "little" shopping, before we grabbed a quick meal in a fast food joint. I was feeling pretty knackered -- after walking around all those bloody clothes shops -- when I put Sherrie on her train that night.

Is it really necessary for women to try on every piece of clothing that catches their eye? Mind you, I suppose I enjoyed myself watching Sherrie coming out of the changing room to ask me how she looked, in what appeared to be, ever and ever, shorter skirts. You know fella's, there comes a point when you just have to take the bull by the horns, and tell them that the skirt is borderline obscene. And then what do they do? They buy the bugger!

You know, if I'd worked that out a little earlier, I wouldn't have been so hungry when we did finally get into that fast food joint.

-----

Over the next six months my divorce became final and I kind of got used to living on my own. I was going out with the lads from the office every so often, but most of them were young and on the prowl. Hey don't get the idea that I wasn't looking, because I was. I just couldn't find anyone who... well, piqued my interest!

My dates -- well I suppose I could call them dates -- with Sherrie became a regular thing. Don't go getting the idea that there was anything romantic about them, because there wasn't. Sherrie would tell me how her life was going and question me about what I was doing with me spare time. Often chastising me for not asking this or that lady out when I mentioned them.

Sherrie appeared to have the idea that, if I mentioned a female then I must surely be attracted to her. Which in a way was probably correct, but I couldn't find the inclination to start dating again, I felt like I was too old.

When I told Sherrie as much, she began teasing me by calling me the "old man."

It was a morning after Sherrie had been down that a newspaper headline caught my eye as I walked to the office. It appeared that Copland had been arrested the previous day

I purchased a copy and tried to read it as best I could as I walked along. As usual, with the sub-judice laws in the UK, the accompanying story didn't say very much. Just that Copland had been arrested and charged with Conspiracy, and perverting the course of justice. The story went on to list a whole group of other people from the around the country who had also been arrested.

One young lady was accused of perjury - numerous counts.

Five women described as "ex-spouses" were arrested and charged with conspiring to subvert the course of justice, I think. The newspaper story made mention that several other "ex-spouses" were believed to have fled the country and extradition papers were being drawn up as the paper went to press.

A further seven people had been charged with various crimes including conspiracy and aiding and abetting.

Tantalisingly the story went on to say that twelve ex-husbands were having their divorce settlements put aside. I gathered that meant they were going to be reassessed on conclusion of the above listed cases.

I can't claim I followed the story, but the gist of it was that same young lady had appeared in numerous divorce cases around the country, claiming to have had an affair with the husbands, and in one case, a wife. In each case the correspondent had come up with a very similar story to the one my mysterious friend had told me all those months before, and in every case a rather large quantity of cash had been involved in the settlement.

Eventually I did clap eyes on my mysterious friend again. He was in the background of a piece of news film on the television. The reporter was standing on the steps outside the High Court in London announcing that Copland and his conspirators had been found guilty on all counts.

-----

The following day Sherrie was down again. Slightly unusual I thought, because she usually came down on Thursdays and it was a Tuesday. And what's more she bounced in my department and waved a couple of theatre tickets under my nose.

"What are your plans for this evening Steve?"

"Well, nothing really."

"Good, you can take me to dinner and then I'm treating you to a show!"

"You'll miss your train home I pointed out."

"No I wont, there's one that leaves just after midnight; I'll catch that instead." Then after a few seconds she added. "The last bus will be gone, but my dad will pick me up from the station."

The dinner was good and the show was good. On the whole it was a great evening until we got to the station. We both looked at the departure screen and there was no trains listed as going north until five A.M.

Sherrie went over to the timetable and swore. She'd made a mistake, all the earlier trains left a few minutes after the hour. The last one, for some reason left at ten minutes before twelve.

"Bugger me." She said, "I'll have to stay over!"

"I'll call my old hotel and find out if they have a room." I suggested.

"Oh don't be daft Steve, I'll bed down on your sofa and catch an early train in the morning."

Yeah, we argued the subject. But I could see no harm in her staying at my flat if she wanted too, so we didn't have an all out ding-dong about it. No, we argued about which of us took the sofa, me trying to play the gentleman. Eventually Sherrie trumped all of my arguments by insisting that she'd rather sleep on a station platform bench, than force me from my bed.

Back at the flat I found a spare sheet and I thought I'd make Sherrie a bed up, using my old sleeping bag that I kept in the car for emergencies, as a blanket. Mind you, I had to give it twenty minutes in the tumble dryer; it had been in the boot of my car for a very long time.

While the dryer worked its magic, Sherrie and I had some tea and she inspected my flat properly. A couple of times previously Sherrie had stuck her nose briefly inside my flat, when we'd taken some frozen food and the like I'd bought home, to put in the freezer.

Then while she had a shower, I made up what I thought was going to be a damned uncomfortable looking bed on the sofa. Briefly the heated discussion about which of us slept on it did raise its head again, until Sherrie repeated her threat of returning to the railway station.

Once I'd taken a shower myself, we said goodnight and I went into my bedroom.

I do not know what time it was when something awoke me. Yeah, there was no doubt about it someone was gently blowing in my left ear.

"Sherrie?" I asked.

"Yes Steve?"

"You appear to be in the wrong bed, young lady!"

"Are you objecting old man, or are you simply stating a fact?"

"Stating a fact, I think?"

"Good."

"But Sherrie...?"

"Steve! If you say one word about the twelve year age gap between us I'll... well, we're not going to start our married life of on a very good footing are we?"

"Married life?"

"Yeah, now come on, show me what and old man can do!"

-----

I was no surprise to me when Sherrie didn't dash off to catch a train first thing in the morning, I had finally worked it out that she had set me up, rather efficiently. On our walk to the office Sherrie explained that she was down for four days, training a new staff intake in the accounts department.