Omnia Vincit Amor Pt. 01

"It was cancer. I had a biopsy and surgery followed by chemo. It's clear now. I wanted to make my peace with everyone and that included people I used to know before I got married. But how about you? Has life been good to you?"

"Yes." Claire's response was measured, though less than enthusiastic. "I think on the whole Peter and I are good for each other, and the children have turned out well. We have five you know, all grown. Peter's disappointed two of them have lapsed, and another is marginal, but the two older ones take after him - very traditional Dutch Catholics."

"I thought the Dutch were liberal - they're often at odds with Rome."

"You're right for the most part. I don't know how Tom and Mary turned to be so right wing, but there are surprisingly quite a lot of staunch traditionalists. It seems Catholics are either very progressive or very traditional over there.

"The Church there tried to make progress as you thought. Like you! You still favour women and married priests? Still arguing for inclusive language and women's rights? Still angling for a more compassionate attitude to divorce? Still arguing for a changed view of the morality of sex after the pill - you always wanted the love aspect to take precedence, even when the church was still only on about pro-creation."

John was surprised she remembered all that. He couldn't remember talking about it, though obviously they must have done. Her memory was obviously better than his.

He nodded. "Not much hope, though, the way things are going. I seriously wonder if I can stay in the fold. The organisation seems to be getting further and further from reality, and then there's the sexual abuse issue."

Claire asked, "And you? Fr Gerrard said you and Elizabeth were a very close couple? He said you were still like teenagers in love."

John bit back the tears. "Yes," he managed. "We were. Sometimes I wonder if it's a good thing to be so close, so wrapped up in each other. The pain is so intense, Claire."

He broke down at this. Claire was out of her chair in a flash and held him as he sobbed. She stroked his head and pressed him to her. It was profoundly comforting. At length he was able to speak again, and then she released him, returning to her seat.

"It started slowly, and it just grew deeper and deeper through the years. I don't believe you have to find the 'right person'. You just have to be the right person. You work at it, don't you? Lizzie did.

"My greatest consolation is that we made love that morning, and we said goodbye properly with a loving kiss before she went out to the shops. She didn't come back. She dropped dead while she was shopping. It was sudden and the doctors said totally painless. They tried to resuscitate her but it was no use: the heart failure was massive.

"And then there was her letter, which helped me no end."

"Letter?" prompted Claire.

"When I thought the cancer might be terminal, I wrote her a letter which I left in my drawer so she could read it after my death. It thanked her for everything and was quite detailed and explicit - we had a very hectic love-life!

"She found it when she was packing for my visit to the hospital for the op. She never told me she'd found it, but evidently decided to write one of her own. She gave it to our solicitor marked private and personal. Would you like to see it? I'm afraid it's pretty juicy!" he grinned at her.

She smiled and nodded. John rose and preceded her into the house. He searched in a drawer and handed her an envelope addressed to "My dearest darling John, private and personal."

As she read the text she coloured up and tears began to form in her eyes. At length she folded it thoughtfully and gave it back.

"That was so beautiful, and so embarrassing, John. It's like trespassing on two people actually making love and staying to watch! What a life you had together! Believe me John, I think it was worth all the agony you suffer now. How marvellous to think you gave such pleasure and fulfilment to someone for so long!"

They stood mesmerised, looking into each other's tearful eyes and a silence descended. There was no more to be said. Then Claire shook herself.

"I need to get off, John." She saw his grin at the double-entendre, and punched his arm. "You always saw the dirty meaning in my linguistic slip-ups! I used to love it - still do! Sounds as if Elizabeth did too. What I mean is, I've got to get back to mother and the family. I'm glad I had the courage to come here."

"You needed courage? Am I that much of an ogre?" John smiled.

"Look, John. You never know after so long, what sort of reception you'll get. I'm glad I did it."

"Claire, you've no idea how much your visit means to me and how much you've helped me. You're still the wonderfully loving and caring person you always were. Will we write?"

Claire's face clouded. "After what happened to your last letter, I think not, but I'll try to phone you when I can. Oh! We can email each other! I don't like going behind Peter's back, but he's so jealous. And after his behaviour when you wrote..." He could see her anger return as her jaw set, and then she shook herself.

She led the way to the front of the house and he helped her with her coat. He wrote his phone number and his email address on the back of a card advertising a taxi service, and gave it to her. They embraced and hugged each other long and hard, and Claire's eyes had tears in them. Their lips touched. Then Claire held his head and kissed him thoroughly on his lips. He responded. They nodded, she turned, and they parted with no further words, but with a wave apiece.

John went back into the house. He had much to think about. He read Elizabeth's letter again and his tears fell. As he came to the end of the letter he laughed aloud through his tears.

Two months, Lizzie and I'm kissing another woman! I don't know, life's always the joker!

He kissed the letter and put it away in the drawer.

Chapter 02

The letter

My Dearest Husband,

Thank you from my deepest heart for the letter you left for me. I know you did not die under the knife, but now I've read it I love you more than ever if that is possible. So I'm going to do the same thing.

My heart is so full after reading what you wrote. It's always been obvious how much you love me by the way you treat me, the many little daily things you delight in doing for me, especially making all those cups of tea and coffee! I want you to know that I really appreciate all those things, though I may have seemed to take them for granted. I never did, my darling. They spoke so eloquently of your love and affection.

If you read this, unlike the letter you left for me and put in your drawer, I will definitely be dead. I've left this with our solicitor.

But wasn't it fun my darling? Always think of the fun, my love, how happy we have been. All that laughter, playing on words, those innuendos. And what a lover you've been to me! What lust! How you tantalised me with your tongue on my thighs and my pussy, your fingers deep in my twat, how you worshipped my body, inside my elbows, my feet. How I loved you loving my feet! And your talented tongue, licking and sucking my clit, how I came and came! I always felt so loveable and so loved and it reduced me to jelly for hours afterwards. Blissful!

I know you loved my mouth on your cock, my tongue swirling round that little head. I bet you're getting hard now just thinking about it, aren't you? Go on, sweetheart, get it out, toss yourself off, come all over yourself! Do it for my memory. If you come, it will mean I can still get you going even after I've left you. There's talent for you!

Even driven by lust, we always made love, dearest, but sometimes wasn't it wild? I'd get you going in my mouth then you'd last for ages and I'd come so hard as you pounded my pussy!

I loved you pinching my nips as I rode you: you could even make me come from loving my tits as I sat up on you. I truly have, sorry had, a talented husband. And when you did me from behind! I could diddle myself and get myself off watching in the wardrobe mirror as you did me that way. The passion on your face as you gazed at my bum!

Remember doing it in that hotel lift? Using my handbag to hold the door open so the lift couldn't move, while I leant on the wall and you took me with my knickers pulled to the side. Then we heard someone coming and I had to grab my bag and stand up with you still inside me! The lift doors shut just in time and you were still putting yourself away when the doors opened at the next floor! That girl smiled so widely and as we left the lift, she whispered to me that I was a lucky cow!

Those long moments in the mornings as you gently stroked in and out spooned up against my bottom, and your finger idly stroking my bud, so luxurious, and the kids could come in and tell us they were awake without them noticing or you losing your stroke!

We did so many positions, you will remember them, every room has a memory. Remember what fun we had, when you go into each room now, remember my laughter.

All of it, my sweetest lover, was loving. You were always concerned for me and I for you. It summed up our everyday life. I've given ALL my life to you - which is more than you can say now, isn't it my dear heart?

You gave every waking moment to me though, didn't you? Yes, it was in your kisses every time we passed each other, your gentle caress of my bottom or hair, a stroke of my tit. I want you to know how much I appreciated those little things you did for me, day after day, and the wonderful dinners you cooked.

I want to tell you how much I appreciate your trust in me, as I trusted you. There were those handsome men who came and went through my office, and there were those days I had to go to conferences, and we both knew they were little more than knocking shops, all those married people pairing off while their other halves were in ignorance at home. You never seemed to have a moment's doubt about my faithfulness. I never let you down you know, and I'm sure you were true to me - I would have known if you'd cheated, you were an open book to me. I always admired your steadfastness - some of those girls at your place were gorgeous!

But that was us wasn't it, darling? We trusted, we loved, and that love grew and grew, and our lovely kids grew out of that love, and aren't they wonderful? We've every right to be proud of what we did together.

Now, this is important, my dearest widower. I am gone, hopefully somewhere even better if that is possible. I want you to go on living, and if a woman comes along who floats your boat, please don't reject her out of loyalty to me. We married until death, so you are now free. After a suitable period of mourning (say a couple of months? Don't over do it!), go looking for someone else. Don't be lonely my sweet. You said the same to me in your letter, so practise what you preach.

Perhaps we'll meet again when you leave this life as I have done, who knows?

All my love goes with you my dearest love.

Lizzie.

Chapter 03

Claire was deeply disturbed as she drove away from John's house on that sunny calm afternoon. It had been a sudden decision to visit him, born of her compassion for his bereavement, but as soon as she saw him the old feelings had returned.

She could not identify what it was about him that turned her emotional life completely upside down. It had happened exactly like that all those years ago. She smiled as she remembered how all her beliefs and convictions about love and sex had been undermined, not by his urgings or his arguments, for there had been none. All the changes came from within her and her desire for him.

She smiled. She had been far from prudish, but she had always resisted the groping of her previous boyfriends, none of whom lasted very long or got very far. She blushed as she remembered how, after her first date with John, he brought her back to her hall of residence. Unusually she had kissed him with a total lack of inhibition, her hands round his neck instead of by her sides, and had not resisted his hand as it made its journey up the outside of her leg under her pleated miniskirt to stroke her bottom.

Then there was the second date when they had gone out with his friends and, finding she was too late to return to her Hall, they had returned to their friends' first floor flat. The second date! The others were already couples and went off to their shared beds, leaving John and herself in the living room on the bed-settee.

She had stripped down to her knickers, even removing her bra and actually displaying her breasts to him as he undressed to his underpants. Then they had spent an uncomfortable night on the lumpy furniture. He had not tried to make love to her but they had cuddled close, the size of the 'bed' forcing them together. From then on they were an 'item', though it was many months before she would offer him her virginity.

He just made her feel so alive, so capable of anything. His ideas were so original to her, especially about religion. And, she ruefully thought, nothing had changed even after all the years.

She was also astounded and angry, indeed livid, as she thought how Peter had intercepted John's letter, hidden it from her, and had presumed to answer it on her behalf.

How dare he! She seethed all the way to her sister Ellen's house and her resentment grew. It was not simply resentment about the letter. She realised he no doubt thought he was doing it out of love to protect her, but she knew it was really because he always sought to organise and order her life in every detail to keep control of her, because he was an intensely jealous man.

She was qualified as a teacher, but on his urging had stayed at home while the children grew up. She even wondered if their move back to the Netherlands was to prevent her getting a job of her own. She had never tried to practise in the Netherlands, though she was soon fluent in Dutch.

His control of their finances ensured that she always did what he wanted. In fairness, she thought, he was a company director and organising others, including her, was part of his nature, and she was sure that he did really love her.

She never had any serious doubts as to his faithfulness. Indeed it was his love and faithfulness that allowed her to suffer his overriding jealously, but this affair of the letter, this was serious. It went beyond all bounds of decency and even morality (she knew he thought himself to be a moral man). His action deeply insulted her.

As she drew up to Ellen's house, Ellen rushed out to the car.

"Claire, where've you been? Peter's been ringing every half-hour. He's worried stiff. You should have been here over two hours ago."

Claire rested her head on the steering wheel and looked sideways up at Ellen. "D'you know, Ellie? I don't care a fucking damn how worried he is."

Ellen looked startled. "What's the matter, Claire? Something serious has happened hasn't it?"

Claire nodded. "I'll say it has. Let's get into the house and I'll tell you over a cup of tea - or coffee." She remembered that Ellen did not drink tea. She got out of the car and the two sisters walked arm in arm into the house.

Claire sat at the table in the roomy kitchen of the large house, as Ellen made the coffee. While it brewed, she turned to Claire. Ellen was an accountant and worked from home; Simon her husband was a solicitor. The house reflected their wealth.

"So? What's happened? Where've you been?"

"I went to see John Pollard."

Ellen was nonplussed. The name did not ring a bell. "Who?" she asked.

"Sorry." Claire had forgotten how long it had been. "He was my boyfriend before Peter. Remember now?"

Ellen remembered. "It must be thirty years Claire. He came to the house one summer. I was going on holiday with Mum and Dad. I was out and he'd gone before I got back. Mum and Dad didn't like him at all, if I remember rightly. They thought you could do better. Didn't you invite him back while we were away, you dirty girl?" she giggled. "Dad was very relieved when you married Peter. God, our parents were snobs back then! So why look John Pollard up?"

"I called on Fr Gerard on the way here. Don't ask me why, it was just a whim. I hadn't seen him for over a year and his parish was on my way. He told me that John's wife had died very suddenly a few months back and John was taking it badly. Apparently they were deeply in love all through their marriage. So I diverted to see him. It was a spur of the moment thing."

"So how was he?"

"Bearing up stoically, I think is the best description. Still very unhappy and depressed. I'm glad I went: it seemed to cheer him up."

"But what's up with you and Peter? You're angry with him, I can see that."

"Ellen, you won't believe this. John said he'd written to me some years ago. He was very ill at the time with cancer and wanted to make his peace with people he thought he'd hurt or treated badly. I never got the letter. Peter opened it and sent a nasty reply on my behalf saying I didn't want anything to do with him! And he didn't tell me!"

"Good God!" Ellen's blasphemy was heartfelt. "I know Peter's a jealous bugger - he never used to let you out of his sight at parties. Didn't he get angry when you talked to that Graham?"

"The jealousy I've coped with. Let's face it I've lived with it for all our marriage. But this! He treats me like I'm his property. I wonder how many other letters he's intercepted from friends of the past and answered them for me?"

The phone rang. The two women stared at each other. Then Ellen rose to answer it. She turned to Claire. Mouthing that it was Peter.

She spoke into the receiver. "It's OK, Peter, she's here." She covered the mouthpiece. "He wants to talk to you."

"Tell him I don't want to speak to him. I'll talk to him when I get back."

Se relayed the message, then there was a silence as Ellen listened. "He says he wants to speak to you now."

Claire rose in a temper, grabbing the phone from Ellen and shouting into the mouthpiece. "Peter don't you understand simple English? I will not talk to you, I will not explain anything to you until I get back." She slammed the phone down.

She was shaking with rage as she sat down and as she did so the phone rang again. Ellen dived for it before Claire could reach it. She listened. Then spoke quietly.

"Peter, there's no point in shouting at me. Claire isn't going to talk to you until she gets back. She's a very angry woman at the moment, so there's no point in phoning again. Good bye."

She replaced the receiver in its charger. It did not ring again.

Ellen poured the coffee and set it between them, offering milk and sugar. Then she sat and leant forward. "So, what was it like with John after all this time?"

Claire smiled. Her anger just evaporated as she remembered the meeting. Ellen could see the tension dissipating as Claire smiled fondly. Oh, she thought. Our Claire's still carrying a torch for him, eh?

"It was as if we'd never been apart. He didn't know me at first, but that's not surprising, I'm in my fifties and we last saw each other when I was twenty one - I've changed and he wasn't expecting me. But once he did, his eyes softened as he remembered, and when we hugged, well, I know I shouldn't say this but I felt somehow back at home in his arms."

"Wow, Claire!" Ellen exclaimed. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I don't know what you're thinking, Sis, but I realise now that I hadn't felt so peaceful and content for a long while. Peter and I have been coasting along, and I sort of got used to it. You know how strait-laced he is! It's like living in the 1950s. He moralises all the time, following the strict right-wing church line - no contraception, a good wife obeys her husband in everything; only men can be priests. He believes all those dogmas which I've always taken with a pinch of salt - Immaculate Conception, Assumption, Virgin Birth. For him it's all literally true.