Retreat

"Hello Michelle, it's Mark again, I am sure that you are still upset about my poor choice of words this morning and you have every right to be and I also know that no matter how much I tell you I am sorry, it will not ever be enough. It isn't right that you, a paying guest has to interco... there I go again, it is not fair to you to have to see, and be put into a position where you have to speak with me and so I have made a decision. I am on my way to confess my... misdemeanours and in case I get the sack, I just wanted to say goodbye now, as I doubt I will have the..."

Flinging the door open, she leaps through it and grabbing his arms says, don't you dare. You can't give up your job just because of some stupid little mistake. You're a good man, I see that now and I should be the one that is sorry. I was drunk, you were charming, and maybe a little pushy, but I was the one that let it go too far, no, you cannot throw yourself on your sword, it is better for both of us that you not tell anyone. It will be our little secret, okay."

"Thank you... thank you, thank you, you truly are a wonderful woman and really that is not me trying anything, that is just my honest opinion, thank you... We both know that, that I am not blameless, but thank you umm, I'll be going now, umm we are supposed to meet for your formal induction. I just hope we can get through that with not too much awkwardness.

His words are delivered with what she feels is a naive honesty and give her some sense of relief, not completely but enough for her to shed much of the guilt she has been feeling.

His words not only reassure her, they are a boost to her ego, enough for her to relax and speak freely and she asks after a little friendly giggle, "So what is the plan today, or am I expected to mong out around here all day?"

"No, no, not at all," he sniggers, "When I suggested I could take you out for the day. I had forgotten that you only arrived the night before, so what is supposed to happen is, in a half hour or so, about ten, you are supposed to report to my classroom to make sure you have understood our procedures, for both you and your... hubby. Basically we will be going over everything you told us on your applications and for you to ask any questions or worries you may have, your other half is undergoing the same thing at this very moment with Gordon."

"And after that?"

Well, we expect it normally to last four to six hours, most recently, people have been using the six hours, the last but one lady I had, she took eight hours before I thought I had completely satisfied her."

She gives a disappointed sigh, and says, "That's a hell of a long time to be stuck in a classroom, bloody hell, I'll be starving by then."

"Oh, sorry, didn't I say, we will be breaking for lunch at around one."

"Great..."

"You don't sound too impressed."

"I suppose not, its, it's just, you did say earlier about taking me out and that made me think, well I must admit, I thought that sightseeing and such were part of the deal. That being out here in the sticks, with all this beautiful scenery, I had sort of expected lots of walking, country pubs and places of historical interest, not just being stuck in a selection of four walled rooms."

This time it is he that does not answer immediately, when he does he says, "I might be able to help you there, I have never done it this way, but I know some people have, give me five and I'll be back."

He is not back in five minutes, nearer to fifteen, but when he does return, he brings good news.

"We can do the class outside the manor, walk along the Pennines for a bit if you like, we can join the Pennine way about five miles down the road. That is as long as you have no objections to riding pillion, my cars at the garage, getting the gearbox fixed."

"My helmet should be in the boot."

"You have your own helmet?"

"Yes, we had spoken about me getting my own bike, but because I did something stupid we've not been able to afford one."

"Great, meet you downstairs in half an hour, yes?"

"Okay."

When she gets down to meet him she finds he already has her helmet, with her gloves tucked inside.

They go outside and she immediately says, "Oh you've got a bonny... no it's the kwak version, mmm, W... S 650, yes?"

"No, it's the W 650, styled more on the American 750 version."

"I didn't know they did another version. Mike always thought it strange that when triumph brought out the new Bonneville, that it looked less like the original than the Kawasaki WS 650." She lets out a little giggle, "You know, a friend of ours, he runs a van, and a couple of years ago he was driving out Leicester way, when he saw a bike by the side of the road. The rider seemed to be looking at something behind the side panels. So our friend stops and goes to ask if he could help. The rider said it had just cut out and then our friend says, I can see the problem. The guy asks what and he says there, on the side of the tank... it says Triumph."

"Mark laughs.

"And that's not all, the guy then says, but I'm part of the design team, everything checked out, it ran fine all day yesterday in the lab."

"With that Mike just smiled and went back to his van."

"You don't rate Triumphs then?"

"I don't really know enough to have an honest opinion but," she stretches but, into two syllables, we've known about twenty people over the years that have had Triumphs and only two have gone back for seconds, although they must have thousands and thousands of satisfied customers."

"You're used to bikes then?"

"Yeah, Mike s always had at least one, in fact he still runs his old Z900 that he had when we met."

"Z900?"

"God you're not that young are you... most of the bikes they used in the original Mad Max film were Zeds"

"Oh yeah, I've seen the film, didn't know that about the bikes though."

They are talking as they are putting on their protective clothing and he straddles his machine and fires up the engine, the small two cylinder engine fires up immediately. "Ready?" she asks, receiving a nod in reply she mounts behind him.

"Hold on," he calls out and she reaches behind her and grasps the "grab" rail."

Expecting her to reach around his waist, he calls out, "I said hold on."

"I am," she replies, "Go when you're ready."

He sets off and is surprised to find her responding even anticipating his riding style, she leans with him into every corner and braces herself against the acceleration and deceleration of the machine as he negotiates the twisty roads over the rolling hills.

When they park at the spot near the Pennine way, he asks, "didn't scare you did I?" He had taken a number of women he had "worked" with at the "retreat," and he had terrified them all. Michelle giggles again and replies, "You've got to be kidding, Mike would've ripped round those bends at twice your speed and he doesn't know these roads like you... You ride like an old granny."

He actually feels hurt at her comment and then she continues, "And Mike's riding is nothing compared to his sister's wife, she is just plain mental, I don't think we know anyone that can keep up with her and we know one guy that raced, although it was only on an amateur level."

He loses his smile for a second but quickly recovers and asks, "Hungry".

A coffee and a bacon bap, from a burger van sitting in the site takes the edge off the fuzziness Michelle is feeling and afterwards they strike out and begin walking. At first, they talk about the scenery, motorcycles, any wildlife they see and of course, both being English, the weather.

Slowly they make their way and Mark is able to begin probing her for the details that he is supposed to get, but as they talk, he is also trying to wheedle his way into her affections.

Usually, within the confines of his "classroom" and the Manor, he has control of all that is said and occasionally done. Here out in the open, there are many distractions and as much as he tries to do his job, with her enthusiasm and dedication to her husband, he keeps finding that they are actually talking as equals and not as prey and predator and although he manages to slip in the reason for being there occasionally. He finds it increasingly difficult to redirect the conversation.

True, Mark is supposed to get as much knowledge about Michelle and Michael as possible. However he has found that he is actually liking this woman. He is also surprised that she is unlike most of the women he meets at the retreat, she is actually expecting to mend her marriage, rather than shift the balance of power within the relationship. He realises that she is forcing him to back off from his duty, and finds himself beginning to get to know the woman.

As they walk and continue to chat over the next few hours, he stops flirting and they start talking about anything other than the "retreats," intentions for her and Michael.

By lunchtime, her head is completely clear and they are getting hungry when Mark sees a sign for a pub... three miles further on.

"Will you manage that? Don't forget we've got to get back to the bike," The challenge in his voice is obvious and without a word she steps out, leaving him standing, "Hang on Meesh," he calls out chasing after her.

"I didn't take you for a light weight, what's up; can't you manage a little stroll?" She retorts with a smile and only forty minutes later, they are walking through the doorway into the pub.

The pub is busy, full off hikers of all ages, shapes and sizes. Mark buys the first drinks and is amazed that Michelle asks for a pint bottle of Sam Smiths "Taddy" an old recipe porter. He tries a taste and finds the burnt malt and hops taste to be overwhelming, and orders a small bottle of Budweiser. She laughs at him and tells him that her husband refers to it as Butt Wiper.

They settle into some seats and begin to peruse the menu, both settling on a steamed steak and ale pudding with boiled potatoes, seasonal vegetables and gravy. Chatting over the meal, he suggests that they return to the manor afterwards, she on the other hand, insists that she wants to walk on for a few more miles.

After eating, she excuses herself to go to the ladies room, while she is gone he takes the opportunity of buying them another beer, also buying her a a large port as a digestif and getting himself a small brandy.

As she returns, a man, tries to engage her in conversation, she is politely declining when the sound of breaking glass and raised voices distracts him, giving her the opportunity to pass. Approaching her table she finds Mark arguing with a man, or rather a man shouting at Mark. The man is small, made to look even smaller by Marks imposing stature. He is small, balding with a long beard, his walking boots, khaki shorts and long-sleeved shirt with a bright red gilet over the top, typical of many hill walkers and for some reason, she thinks he reminds her of someone, but she cannot place who. Listening to the discussion, she knows the stranger is complaining that Mark has spilt drinks over him. Mark is trying to calm the man down, but insisting that it was the man that knocked the tray Mark was carrying over himself.

A woman, smaller than either man, in height and larger in other directions pushes herself between the men and waving the brush in her hand in their faces, tells them to "pack it up or take it outside," both men apologise to her and giving one another a last hate filled glare turn away from one another.

Mark sees her looking at him and gives her a shameful grin, saying, "Shall we move on?" She returns his grin with a smile and he follows her out of the door trying to explain what had occurred. They are a good hundred metres from the pub before he realises she is, as she had said over lunch continuing to walk in the same direction as before.

"Stupid little man, I could have killed him," Mark states with certainty. She does not disagree, however thinking to herself that the other man had not looked particularly concerned, or for that matter, as angry as his words had implied.

As they walk on, Mark becomes preoccupied, quietly fuming about the spilled drinks and n feeling she has manipulated him to carry on walking. His shoes are not suited for the terrain, nor is he used to walking any distance, his feet are sore and his legs are beginning to complain. As much as he wants to stop, he feels that it would infringe his masculinity to let a woman beat him.

They are only a mile from the pub when she notices he is limping and suggests they turn back, a suggestion that he readily agrees to.

They stop at the pub, and he sits outside on a wooden table. She goes inside, returning with two pints, telling him, "knock it back, a taxi will be here soon to take us back to the bike."

The driver attempts to reassure them that Mark is not the only one he has taken from the pub, but no matter how sympathetic his words, he seems to revel in the number of failed hikers he has taken from the pub to various car parks around the area.

Mark pays the driver and gingerly walks to the bike and pulls on his crash helmet and after turning the bike on presses the button to start it. The engine turns over and does not catch, he tries repeatedly and the motorcycle will not start, other that an occasional backfire and the whir of the starter motor, the engine remains silent. He tries to kick-start it and still the bike is refusing to start.

"I don't understand it; it's never failed me before." He complains. A heavy smell of unburned fuel hangs in the air. Michelle is sure the bike is flooding, but Mark will not accept she could be correct and eventually calls for the RAC.

Almost three hours pass before the van arrives, he connects the machine to a power pack to jump start the machine and it still will not fire up, he checks the plugs for a spark and after replacing them he gets Mark to turn the engine over. Squatting down behind the bike, he appears to catch the fumes from the exhaust in his cupped hands; sniffing them, he nods to himself and says, "Yeah, thought so."

He goes to his van and returns with a screwdriver, he looks at the carburettors and adjusts screws on the side of each. He turns it over and the bike starts, he adjusts the screws a little more, again cupping his hands over the exhausts. He soon says, "that will get you home, but I should get your carbs looked at, they will need balancing properly. But I will say this, I doubt there is something wrong with them, to be honest, I think somebody deliberately messed with them."

Mark looks puzzled for a second and then says, "I'll bet it was that little shit in the pub."

By the time Mark has finished dealing with the mechanic, he is more than ready to get back to the "retreat," but he looks around for Michelle and does not see her. Assuming she has gone to use the facilities, he does likewise, as he hobbles back to the bike; he spies her at one of the burger vans. He starts to hobble over to her, but seeing him, she hurries over to him. Handing him a polystyrene box, she says, "the lady in the van has just been telling me about a dance after the village fȇte in a place called, umm, Fendale I think she said."

At the mention of the word "dance" he winces, all he wants to do, is rest his weary body and take the weight off his painful feet.

He tries to think of Fendale and where it might be, as he has no recollection of the name. She looks at him with a wry smile and tries to goad him into taking her, but bursts into a fit of giggles. He realises she is mocking him and cannot stop himself from laughing with her.

They sit at a wooden bench table and eat, before again going to the bike and after checking it runs, putting on the protection, mounting the machine and returning to the manor just as the sun is setting.

She goes to her room, he excuses himself and goes to his, she takes a long, luxurious bath and afterwards, the long day, the walking and the fresh air take their toll and she goes to bed. Mark gets into his room, takes his shoes off and finds he has to soak his feet before he can remove the bloody socks. He too, is soon slumbering.

In the morning, someone knocks on the door and asks if she is up, telling her that breakfast will be served in a quarter of an hour.

She is just sitting down at the table when Mark enters the dining room; he gets himself a black coffee from the coffee maker and joins her.

"I hope you don't want to go walking again. My feet won't let me, my blisters blisters, have blisters."

She smiles and taunts him, "How about a run then, a half marathon would go down a treat if the weathers right."

He groans, "Honest Meesh, I'd love to go somewhere, but it's got to be something with very little walking, you killed me yesterday."

"What about a trip to one of the lakes, would you be up for that?"

What, on a boat you mean?"

"Yeah, not one of the trip around the lake touristy things, but rent a dingy, just the two of us."

"Maybe tomorrow, but you might have to carry me," he grins.

"Shouldn't be any problem, now I know what a light weight you are."

"God you're funny," he says with sarcasm, "But yeah, why not, how about if we just go sightseeing, I'll just sit in the car if you want to explore anywhere, if that's okay? I'll get them to pack a picnic for us."

"I'd rather we ate in a pub, I don't like packed lunches, she says with a smile," That's as long as you can manage not to start any more fights with weird little Welshmen."

"Really, I think that a sweaty cheese bap is one of nature's delicacies."

"Ugh," she says with a shudder, "no ta."

"Okay, pub lunch it is."

A while later she is driving what she assumes is his blue Mercedes through the wrought iron gates to the manor's courtyard, revelling in its luxury. She rattles off places she would like to visit and he dutifully inputs them into the cars satellite navigation system.

Just after one o'clock, she is driving through Penrith, and she sees a chip shop that Mike's sister had described and recommended and she brakes hard receiving a chorus of hoots and honks from behind as other drivers object to her sudden halt. She stops not because of hunger, although she has started to think about food. She stopped, because she realises this is the first time today she has thought about her husband.

"Oh my god! She gasps as guilt and shame wash over her. "I need to see Mike."

"Meesh, you can't, you may be able to see him in a fortnight, if all goes well, but remember, it was what you agreed to. We had one couple that... Sorry, I can't talk about other clients, but it was felt after... Well, let's just say, the, the... it's best that the recommendations are followed."

"Why not, what did they do?"

"Really, I can't say. You know what they say, what happens in Vegas..."

"Stays in Rome," she giggles.

There is more honking from behind them, she engages first gear and moves off, she changes up to second before she speaks again, "So what part of the programme did he object to, was it some glib and charming young man spending all of his time trying to test her vow of fidelity."

Taking the humorous question as a back handed compliment and plays along, "Oh," he chuckles, busted. I didn't think I was being that obvious."

"Look mate, don't let the blonde hair fool you, I'm not that dumb."

He cannot help himself but think, "and yet you're here."

"But is that's the plan, how do you expect that to work, surely if someone cheats on their other half it will only drive them apart."

"That is true of some couples, but for many it is the opposite, in fact you would be surprised at how many people do become closer after one or even both have, um sampled the forbidden fruit."

"Well your, barking up the wrong tree here mister, you ain't shagging me and I know no skanky bitch will get to ride on my man."