Not Just for Christmas Ch. 05-06

"The last call I got on my mobile was from Victor as I was on the bus going to meet the others. He only had time to tell me the Nisi had been granted before my phone packed in. I wanted to turn back and tell you but I would have missed the others, and well, now I wish I had turned back. None of this would have happened.

"Jim, the man who brought me home, has been after me since we started going to the pub after lectures. I told them about the Decree Nisi and they all wanted to celebrate.

"I think Jim put something in my drinks, or added vodka or something, 'cos I was really getting out of it far quicker than I should have. I think he thought I'd sleep with him if I was drunk enough now I was a single woman, except that I'm not single for another six weeks.

"We went on to this club and danced, I mean all of us. Then I realised what time it was, and that I hadn't told you. I felt guilty and asked Jim to bring me home straightaway, which he did. I was completely out of it.

"Anyway, when we got here he started kissing me and in my stupor I liked it, but then he started undressing me and he got my blouse open. I then realised in my drunken state what was happening and tried to stop him. He's a big man, Mike; he got my jeans undone and I fought him off. I got the door open and fell out of the car and ran for the house and he drove off. I was shaken and relieved.

"I was terrified in that car, he was so forceful. You of all people should understand about me and violence, but when I got in I needed a friend and you shut me out. So he's not my boyfriend. OK?" She had gradually become cold and angry.

He immediately knew that not only was she cold and angry, he knew that she had every reason to be angry. He had been a fool. He should have listened. He should have waited instead of sulking like a little boy. It was too late now. She was upset and distant.

"So I need to apologise in my turn," he said humbly, "for not waiting for you to tell me the story, and for not being there for you after a frightening experience. I'm very sorry Claire. Can we start again?"

"I don't know. I hope so."

"By the way, since we're baring our souls, Tom did fix me up with a girl last night but we didn't have sex. OK?"

"Um, OK," she mumbled.

And that was that.

-

For Mike the week was uncomfortable. Claire was 'nice' to him. She smiled. She joked. She was thoughtful, bringing him cups of tea in his study and his room. It heaped coals of fire on his head.

He knew now that he was in love with her and he was equally certain that she had no feelings in that direction at all, but in being such a good friend she made things worse. He was stuck; he had employed her and because of her complete efficiency she alone had the power to end the arrangement.

He in his turn hid himself away. He ate with the family as he always had. He chatted with the children and with Claire, but now she was free from her studies she would shoo him out of the kitchen where he used to either wash up or dry the pots with her. So he retired in solitude to work or read, or rather it was solitude until one of the children came for a chat and a hug. But never Claire.

He went to see the folks at the Home practically every night for an hour or so. Claire never asked him where he went and he didn't enlighten her.

By the end of one week he knew this couldn't go on but he had not the slightest idea how to end it. It was, however, taken out of his hands.

Trouble arrived. It was a disaster in the making and it was just after lunch on Saturday.

He usually left the double gates open during the day when he was at home, especially at weekends, which meant that visitors could get to the front door without anyone in the house having to let them in through the pedestrian gate.

The family were doing their own thing and Claire had decided to have a bath. Then the front doorbell rang. Since he was nearest, Mike answered the door.

There stood Cheryl, his ex-wife.

"Hi, Mike!" she said brightly.

How would you answer your ex-wife who has not spoken to you since dumping you, leaving the note saying you bored her? Well Mike didn't know either so he stood open mouthed, gormlessly staring at her.

"Aren't you going to ask me in?" she pouted.

"Cheryl," he found his voice. "What are you doing here? What's all this in aid of?"

"It's been too long!" she replied with a bright smile that he could not read. "It was rude of me to leave you like that so I thought I'd come and bury the hatchet."

She sidled past him into the Hallway.

"Where's your bloke?" Mike asked.

"Oh," she said airily, "it didn't work out. He went bankrupt. As it happens I'm looking for somewhere to crash. I thought you might..."

The words died on her lips as Claire came down the stairs in a bathrobe. Claire stopped and looked at Cheryl. Cheryl glared at Claire.

"Mike!" glowered Claire. "Kitchen. Now!"

"Wait here," Mike growled at Cheryl. "Stay there!" he shouted over his shoulder as he followed the furious woman into the kitchen.

He was hardly in the kitchen when the onslaught began.

"You said you wouldn't bring your women here! What's she doing coming to the house?"

"I'm his wife darling," came a voice behind him, heavy with false syrup, before he had a chance to speak. Cheryl had followed him; she never did as he asked.

"EX-wife," Mike corrected her.

"Yeah, wha'ever!" Cheryl had lost none of her charm nor her glottal stops.

He turned his attention to a red-faced Claire. She was very angry, yes, definitely.

"Cheryl here," he said quietly, "came to 'bury the hatchet'. Oh, and as an afterthought she wants to 'crash' here."

He turned to Cheryl. "That's right isn't it?"

Cheryl nodded, beginning to look hopeful.

"Well, sorry, Cheryl. You left me because I bored you. I seem to remember you said your new boyfriend was better in every way than I was. Now you come waltzing back as if nothing has happened.

"Well it has. One, we are divorced. Two, as you see, I've moved on. Personally I've never been happier. Claire here and her family, yes family Cheryl, have made me happier than you ever did. So, sorry, there's no room for you here. D'you need a handout for a hotel?"

There was silence.

Then, "OK, point taken. No really, it's OK. He left me with some money. I just-"

"What?"

"Just that I've been stupid, didn't realise what I had. Too late now obviously."

"For what?"

"To try again?"

"You're right. It was too late when I got the note. You were never coming back."

Suddenly Cheryl changed tack. She was good at that, he remembered. If one door closes try another one.

"Hey," she said looking at Claire, "you're that missing woman with the family! Big news last Christmas! I work for the local rag, you know, the Echo. You made quite a splash. We nearly missed the story what with the holiday and all that. You've just got your divorce I hear."

Mike was dumbfounded. How could Cheryl have remembered about Christmas, and where did she get the information about the divorce? There was something suspicious about that.

"Yeah," Cheryl said, getting the knives out for Claire. "Enjoy living here?" she asked with some venom.

"Yes," said Claire with remarkable restraint, Mike thought, "Mike has been very good to us."

"I bet he has!" Cheryl's malevolence was now manifest. "No doubt you're paying your way on your back like his weekend girlies! Good in bed, isn't he? Have a good time, Mike, at the Majestic? Last weekend, you remember, with Bryony? Bet you booked 'our' room didn't you?"

"Get out Cheryl!" he shouted, "and don't come back."

"Ooh! Hit a nerve there didn't I?" she said making for the door. Then she stopped for there were three children standing looking at her, the oldest malevolently blocking her way.

"What did you say about my mother?" snarled Siobhán.

Now Cheryl was not a tall woman though very pretty, shapely and in proportion, but Siobhán was tall for her age, and she was just a little taller than the older woman who was not wearing her heels. Cheryl was worried. No, Mike thought, actually afraid.

"Leave her be," said Claire. "She's not worth you using your martial arts on her."

Cheryl flinched.

"I think you have something to say to my mother," persisted Siobhán, taking a step towards her.

"Sorry," said Cheryl to Claire unconvincingly. "I shouldn't have said that."

Then she turned, pushed past the younger children and made for the door, slamming it behind her.

Claire and Siobhán collapsed with laughter. "Mum you're the limit! Martial arts? Where did that come from?"

Mike was not laughing. First he had been attacked by Claire in front of a visitor she did not know. Second, he knew how vindictive Cheryl could be. Everyone would now have to watch their backs, especially if Cheryl worked at the Echo. The two younger children were looking puzzled, so he shepherded them into the living room and they settled back to their play.

Claire and Siobhán followed, and came giggling into the living room. The giggling stopped when they saw Mike's face.

"Claire," he said coldly, "I want a word in private. Please return to the kitchen."

She turned with a worried frown once she was inside the door, "What is it Mike?"

He closed the door.

"Claire, never attack me in front of a visitor again. I will not be ordered about in my own house. She could have been a neighbour, a woman from work, a client, or a friend. You have no right to insult me or a visitor like that!"

She realised immediately what she had done. In a sense it was understandable, she was protecting her children but in ignorance.

What Mike had not expected was Claire's reaction, or rather over-reaction. She collapsed onto a kitchen chair and broke down in tears. He was mystified. For months now she had been assertive, happy and secure. Now suddenly she broke down like a child.

"I'm so sorry!" she cried. "Please it won't happen again! I don't know what came over me."

She buried her head in her hands. It frightened him. He remembered that Catherine had told him at Christmas how near the edge she was but he had thought that was all behind them.

There was a knocking on the door.

"Mum!" It was Siobhán. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Claire replied, struggling to sound normal. "It's all right. Mike and I need to discuss something."

"Claire," Mike said, "you corrected me last weekend; now I'm correcting you. It's the way people get on together. It's normal. You know your place is secure here."

She looked up gratefully.

"But," he added, "Cheryl bears grudges. She may just forget about it, or she may resent that I've turned her away, or that you're here, or that Siobhán threatened her."

"What could she do?"

"No idea," he answered, "Forget it."

They both did. Bad move.

Chapter Six

People can be too grateful, Mike thought. The rest of the weekend and the whole of the following week were once again filled with Claire's gratitude. She couldn't do enough for him - again - bringing him the inevitable cups of tea, asking how he'd like the chicken cooked for Sunday lunch the following weekend, inviting him for a walk with the family (except Siobhán who had better things to do) in the parkland surrounding one of their local stately homes. The last of these was a tussle. At first he refused and then saw the disappointment and pleading on her face. He was beginning to feel persecuted.

So it was that they were in the park early. The July morning was very warm and while the children were in jeans and tee shirts, Claire was in a very fetching sundress. It was sleeveless with a 'V' neck and well above the knee. A pair of sandals was the only other thing she wore, apart from a bra and sensible knickers which were just visible through the brightly coloured fabric of the dress.

Claire and Ryan were walking ahead, and Ginny and Mike were a distance behind. The sun shone through Claire's dress and outlined her body clearly. She was truly a beautiful woman: her shape was captivating. Ginny was chatting away but he didn't hear her. He was jolted when there was a sudden silence.

"Mike?" she asked.

"Yes?"

"D'you like Mum?"

"Yes, Ginny," he said, "your Mum is very special."

"You love her?"

Oh dear. With Ryan, he thought, he could get away with a bland answer but Ginny was a girl, and was nine now (he remembered the riotous birthday party and felt residual fear; she invited the whole class and most of them came). He knew what she she was getting at, but was unsure how to answer.

"I admire her very much," he began. "She's brought you all up wonderfully. Look at the three of you! You're each one of you a real credit to her. She's strong and caring, and she looks after me wonderfully."

Did he really expect to get away with it? Fool!

"Yes, but do you love her, I mean really love her?"

"I'm not sure exactly what that means," he prevaricated bravely, "I care about her very much, I want her to stay here with you all. I'd be very sad if you all went, as I suppose you will one day."

"Oh."

She was disappointed; it showed in her voice. He wondered what she was driving at but the silence that ensued, coupled with her taking his hand in hers stopped him from asking. It would only provoke further embarrassing questions.

They ended up at the adventure playground, where the children ran off and began their own workout. Claire and Mike sat together on a bench. She sat close, and he could feel the warmth of her arm against his.

She sighed.

"This is so wonderful," she said. "I can't remember when I've felt so relaxed and so much at home as when I've been with you. You know the children adore you?"

"Don't know about that," he said, "but we get on fine."

"Ryan was asking were you going to be their new dad. You're always there for them, you take them out; you listen to them. You kick a ball around with Ryan. You make time for them. You tell them off when they're naughty. You might as well be."

"I only try to support you. You know how much I love having you all. I can't imagine life without the house full. The children are precious to me, you know. I'll always be there for them.

"Umm. Good." She sighed again and it was a relaxed happy sound, and it gave him a warm feeling.

He wanted desperately to put his arm round her and tell her his feelings for her, but there was something stopping him and he didn't know what it was. He felt it strange for he was never one to be reticent. People, both at work and socially, knew he spoke his mind but somehow he felt scared to do that now.

Perhaps, he thought, he was afraid of being rejected by Claire of all women; perhaps afraid of ruining what relationship there was between them. It mattered to him more than anything to keep her. Nothing had ever mattered as much to him as to get this relationship with her right.

On Monday morning Rosemary took her coffee break with Mike as she usually did. They talked shop for a while then chatted about the previous weekend. He told her about Cheryl's arrival, and she agreed it was unusual and even suspicious, but they couldn't think of a reason she could have for finding him again. Then it came, a change of tack.

"It must be about five weeks to go now."

"Pardon?" he said.

"To Claire's Decree Absolute."

"Yes, I suppose so," he said, wondering where this was leading.

"She'll be a free woman."

"Aye."

"Thinking of doing anything about that?" One eyebrow was raised as she asked.

"I'm sorry?"

"Mike, I've seen the way you look at her. You know what I mean."

"Rosemary!"

"You're in love with her. When are you going to do something about that?"

"Look," he said rather sharply. "She's a good friend. I don't want to ruin that by making a move on her."

"Faint heart never won fair lady, you know."

"D'you think this weather will last, Rosemary?"

"OK, point taken!"

They smiled knowingly and affectionately at each other, and got back to work.

On Tuesday Tom rang him mid afternoon.

"How's it going old son?" he asked.

"Fine."

"Said anything to Claire yet?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, Mike," he laughed. "I met Bryony. I hear you turned down a fuck."

"She's not upset is she?"

"Oh no," he said. "She reckoned there was someone else. She had a very knowing look. So have you done anything about Claire?"

"No."

"Once she's divorced, she'll be on the market again. You need to get in there first, or you'll find her gone."

Mike now suspected there was some sort of plot. And his suspicions were reinforced the next evening, when Siobhán sauntered into his room, after a perfunctory knock. He was sitting in an armchair, so she went and sat down in the other one. Something was up; she normally contributed to the demise of the arm of his own chair.

He sensed his reading time was over and reluctantly marked the place and put his book down and waited for this young girl with a thirty-year-old head on her shoulders to tell him what she wanted.

"Go on," he said.

She smiled; he quailed.

"Dad - I mean, Mike," she grinned demurely. She did this a lot, calling him Dad. She knew it embarrassed him. The second time she did it he told her he wasn't her Dad but she countered by saying he was more of a dad than her own, and anyway after what Gary did to her she didn't have a real Dad.

"Ginny and I have been talking." She stopped and smiled at him.

"Oh dear," he said with a grin. "What about, and how much is it going to hurt me?"

She pouted. When do girls learn to pout, he asked himself.

"No, it's not going to hurt." She paused, and he sensed she was about to spring a trap.

"Question: do you fancy Mum?"

It was certainly direct, that question. Not, do you love her, admire her, but fancy her!

"Your mother is a very beautiful woman, Siobhán. Any man would be attracted to her."

She sighed in exasperation at his avoiding the question. "And you like her?"

"Like? Yes, of course I like her. She's strong and clever and funny and decisive and hard working. I admire her immensely."

"So why haven't you asked her out?"

Here we go again, he thought.

"We live in the same house, Siobhán," he said patiently. "She works for me. We're good friends. I'm her employer and it's not fair for an employer to hit on one of his employees."

"Well," she said, with a defiant almost angry stare at him, "that's daft. It's bloody stupid." She saw his face cloud. "Sorry, but it is."

"How?"

"You both behave like our Mum and Dad. You chat together like ordinary married people do. You like her, admire her, let's face it Dad, you love her don't you?"

He started to feel he was losing his way in this argument and he capitulated. "Yes, I do Hen, but I don't want to spoil what we have by trying it on with her. So don't tell her."

"Dad," she said, "Mum loves you. She has loved you for ages. She doesn't think you love her; you've never shown any sign that you love her."

"I've told you why."

"Sometimes she cries because you don't seem to fancy her."

"She told you that?"

"No, don't be stupid!" she said, exasperated. "I know it's true though. We women know about such things. Now please, will you take her out? We children want you two to get together; we fancy you as our Dad."

"Are you behind the campaign that's gone on all this week?"

She had the grace to look embarrassed.

"Thought so," he said smugly.

Well, he thought, it seems she loves me; I know I love her.

"OK," he said. She jumped up and made for him. "But!" he said holding up his hand. She stopped in mid leap.

"I do this my way and you say nothing about this to your mother. Understand?"

"Yes," she said, then came over and hugged him.

"And don't tell the other two either," he admonished her. "They'll never keep it to themselves."