Soiled Knickers

Then I signed it using my pen name and handed it and the pen back to her.

She opened it and looked at the title page.

"This is you?" she asked, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Guilty," I said.

"I have enjoyed both your books," she said, "do you have another on out soon?"

"In about four months, this is about a young knight who returns from the crusades to find his parents dead, his lands stolen and his sister married off to one of the local barons," I said, "I'll see that you get an advance copy."

"That's very kind, thank you," she said, "now, down to business."

She picked up the two DNA charts and started scanning them alternately, I could see her eyes flick from one to the other then back again rapidly. For the next twenty minutes the only sound was the ticking of the kitchen clock and an occasional grunt from her as she made a mark on her chart.

After twenty minutes she raised her head from the charts.

"Please," she said, "help yourself to more coffee," she nodded her head in the direction of a filter coffee maker of the worktop, "and if you would be so kind as to pour me one, I'd be grateful."

In all it took a little more than an hour before she pushed both charts to one side.

"Yes," she said, "the sample is my husband's."

She looked sad.

"Two years ago he promised me," she repeated it for emphasis," promised me that it would not happen again. I'm sorry Mr Parker, Dave, I wish there were some way I could make this have not happened."

"Well we can't," I said, "so there is no point worrying about it."

"Well, I can see now why your wife attacked my husband, please apologise to her on my behalf."

"Well," I said, "I have an eyewitness who was there throughout the incident that says my wife only kicked your husband where she did, because at the time he had his hands around her throat and was strangling her."

"If that is the case, I hope she is not being charged with anything."

"She is, but I think we can get a satisfactory outcome. In the meantime she is suspended from work," I said.

"I am sorry about that," she said, "if it will help, I will be happy to be a witness to my husband's prior adventures."

"Thank you," I said, "I hope it doesn't come to that."

I stood up.

"Jutta it's been a pleasure," I said, "but I have other calls to make, so I must go, but please."

I drew a card out of my wallet.

"Please," I said, "if I can be any help to you, call me. What will you do now?"

"What I should have done years ago," she said, "I shall be seeing a lawyer before the week is out."

"Then I wish you well with that, I said.

She showed me to the door and gave me one of those continental cheek kisses, then stood there and watched as I got in my car and drove away.

As I drove, I was thinking, Sally needed a better lawyer and I knew just the one, female, young successful and an absolute bulldog, especially when it came to abused women and that seemed a good description of Sally's present status.

I used the Bluetooth connection in the car to make the call.

"Hello Dave," she said as she answered.

"Hi Mary, how's my favourite cousin?"

"I'm well, Dave, thanks for ringing and asking," she replied, "now, what's the real reason?"

"Isn't concern for your welfare enough?" I asked, "But yes, I do have an ulterior motive, I need a lawyer."

"All right," she said, "what have you done and what have you been charged with?"

"Not for me, for Sally," I said, then gave her the brief version of the story.

"She did all that and still you're protecting her?" she said, "David Parker, you're even more of a saint than she thinks you are."

"Yes, well, I'm no longer as sure as I was that she's as guilty as she appears," I said, "I've got a couple of witnesses willing to testify, one of which is his wife."

"So, he has a history," she said, "I'll tell you what, give me an hour or two to think about it and I'll find the best person. Who's handling it at the moment?"

"Duty solicitor," I said.

"Young guy? Not yet shaving. That sort?" she asked.

"Yes to all three," I answered.

"All right, let me get on with it, love to your Mum and Dad."

And she was gone.

I decided that I'd done enough for one day and turned the car round the ring road towards the M1, to pick up the M63 at Lofthouse and head back to Cheadle.

I arrive in mid-afternoon to an empty house.

"Mum had left me a note to say that she had taken Sally to the hospital for a check-up and that they should be back around fiver. They'd left me a sandwich in the fridge and I was not to worry.

The bit about not worrying was what got me worried.

I ate the sandwich, refilled the coffee maker and had a mug then sat down with my laptop in the hope of getting some work done.

They did arrive back at five, well, just before actually, followed a few minutes later by my Dad.

As the two womenfolk walked in, I greeted them and pointed them in the direction of the freshly made coffee in the maker, then continued with my work.

Mum went to the machine and Sally came up behind me put her arms around me and leaned in close.

"Been busy?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, "your stuff's in the car and May says Hi."

"You saw May?" she asked.

"Yes, well, I could hardly barge into the female changing room and empty your locker myself, could I?"

"Knowing half the women that use it, I'd say that chances are if you'd gone in, you'd still be there."

"Did you talk to her?"

"Yes, we went to the canteen and got a coffee. She told me that at the time you kicked him, Mortensen had his hands round your throat."

"Yes, he did," she said.

"I wish you'd told me that yesterday," I replied, "that's the basis of your defence. He was strangling you, you feared for your life and lashed out. Case closed."

"You think that would work?" she asked.

"I think so," I said, "but I've rung Cousin Mary, she's going to find us a decent lawyer, to replace the office boy from the duty solicitor's office."

"We also have a second witness willing to testify against him," I said.

"Who?" Mum asked.

"His wife, Jutte," I replied, "apparently you're not his first, as she called it, adventure. She's also a forensic scientist and she had a DNA test chart from a previous paternity suit. She's confirmed that the sample I found is his."

"But enough of what I've been doing, what have you two been up to?"

"Your Mum took me to the hospital and I had the STD tests done," she said, "everything is negative apart from the HIV, that test isn't instant."

"Great," I said, "tomorrow I'm going to find an investigator and have your friend Peter investigated, thoroughly. His background, his history anything I can find to prove that he's an aggressive stalker of women and a serial adulterer."

The first thing I did the following morning after breakfast was answer my phone. It was an unknown number and I answered it tentatively.

"Mr Parker?" a voice bearing a slight accent queried.

"Yes," I answered, wary.

"My name is Max Silverstein, I work with your cousin Mary," he said, "I believe that you and your wife need some help with a criminal matter."

"Yes," I said, "more my wife actually, she'd be your client, so, if you'll hang on a second, I'll put her on and you can speak direct to her."

"Thank you," he said and I handed the phone to Sally.

I left the room, telling Sally that I'd be in the kitchen.

I sat and chatted with Mum about the family, including the surprising news that I was going to be an uncle.

I was thrilled by the news, but, at the same time given my own current marital situation, I couldn't see Sally and I being in that position anytime soon, if ever. I didn't want her going to jail, or losing her career over a stupid mistake, but I couldn't see us lasting as a couple much longer, particularly if Mortensen's plot worked and she was already pregnant with his child.

She was on the phone for almost an hour before she came into the kitchen and held my phone out to me.

"He wants to speak to you," she said and sat down opposite me.

"Mr Silverstein," I said, "what can I do for you?"

"Well, it would probably help if you started by calling me Max, Mr Parker, or may I call you Dave?"

"Please do, Max," I replied.

"Dave, sally tells me you have two witnesses, willing to testify, is that correct?"

I told him it was and who the witnesses were. He found it very interesting that Jutte was willing to testify on sally's behalf.

"And also, that you plan on hiring an investigator to look into the man she allegedly assaulted."

"That's true."

"Then can I suggest that you and Sally come in tomorrow and we'll meet. We have a number of very good investigations firms that we have had success with in the past."

"I think we can manage that, when?"

"Well since you're over on the uncivilised side of the Pennines, how about early afternoon?"

"Two o'clock?" I suggested, "we can pick up Sally's car from the hospital car park at the same time."

"Very good," he said, Silverstein and Khan, We're on Vicar Lane, just opposite the old bus station."

"Then I look forward to meeting you tomorrow."

We said our goodbyes and I hung up.

I stood up; I'd just remembered that the bag of Sally's things was still on the back seat of my car.

"Back in a minute," I said and walked out to get it.

I brought it in and placed it on the kitchen table.

"Do you want to empty it here or up in your room?" I asked her.

"I'll do it here," she said, "there's nothing in there to hide."

There wasn't, there was shampoo, conditioner, a make-up bag, packet of tampons, pen, notebook and two clean pairs of knickers, a foil strip of tablets and her street clothes that she'd been wearing on her way to work that morning.

As she started packing the things back into the bag to take upstairs to her room, I reached over and grabbed the foil strip of tablets. I wasn't aware of Sally being on any medication apart from the pill and took a long look at the strip. There was no drug name printed on it, just a very long chemical name and no manufacturer's name either.

"What are these?" I asked.

"Oh, they're for period pains," she said.

I knew that she did suffer quite badly, she'd kept me awake enough nights for me to be well aware of that, but I didn't know she was taking medication.

"Where did they come from?" I asked.

"I got them at the hospital," she said, "they're a trial drug and I must say, they do work well."

Something, at the back of my mind was ringing a warning.

"Who gave them to you?" I asked.

"Do you know, I can't actually remember," she said.

"I'm betting it was Peter Mortensen and if we have these analysed we may get some interesting results."

"You think he might have..." Mum began.

"Mum, I'm a writer of fiction," I said, "I make plots up for a living. Now, if this were a novel instead of real life, I'd definitely have Mortensen as some sort of evil genius, developing bespoke drugs to turn people into willing servants, slaves even. But it's not, so there's probably nothing in these but a very good analgesic. But just to be on the safe side, I'm going to take these into one of my friends at the University to analyse."

"With all that to do tomorrow," Sally said, "would it be a good idea for us to sleep at home tonight?"

"Sally," I said, not exactly in my sweetest tone.

"Dave," it makes sense," she replied, "we'll have a lot to do and not that much time, if we can save two hours of travelling it gives us chance to get more done."

"David," Mum said, I knew she was serious she called me David, "she's right, it makes for more sense to drive home tonight and do what you have to do from there tomorrow."

"Thank you Lady Parker," Sally replied.

Mum's brow furrowed.

"Sally, since when did I stop being Mum?" she asked.

"I," Sally began, "I felt I lost that right when I was unfaithful to your son."

"Sally," Mum said, gently, "I'll let you know if you ever lose that right. Right now, you're my son's wife and you're still my second daughter. You've made a mistake, one which I don't know whether Dave will ever be able to forgive. I know he'll never forget it and that's something you'll have to live with. Possibly for the rest of your life. Just don't let it become the rest of your life."

"And you," she turned to me, "younger son of mine. You know you love this girl; you've told me more than once that she is your very life. She did a stupid thing and you'd be quite within your rights to just throw her out. But that's not you son. I'm sure you can find it in your heart to forgive her, though truly, it might take a while, perhaps a long while. But in the meantime, son, don't put yourself in a position that you can't back out of."

"I hear what you're saying Mum," I said, "and I dearly want to keep Sally by my side. But my problem is that I've had my trust shattered. I don't know how much Sally is a victim in all of this and how much she was a willing participant. I'm willing to believe, but I need to see the evidence and assess it first. So, I'm not starting divorce proceedings, and I will keep an open mind, but until I've seen how all this works out, we will not be occupying the same bed, and it's unlikely that we'll be living together. Tell me something, what do you think Dad would do in a situation like this?"

"I can tell you precisely what he would do in this situation," she said, if it were me and we were your age, he would sit me down, and he would explain to me calmly and rationally, that he wanted the truth, all the truth and only the truth of what had been going on. He would tell me that if I deviated from the truth or evaded so much as a single question then we were finished, completely and forever. He would tell me that he would believe every word I said, and then he would, what is it they call it now? Fact check every statement. If there was a single, solitary thing that did not accord with those facts, then he would leave and never return. And Sally, I think that is exactly what you need to do."

"How can you be so sure?" I asked her.

She took a deep breath.

"David, darling," she said, "I know what he would do because that is exactly what he did do."

And, having dropped that bombshell, she stood up and left the room.

As I watched her retreating back, I turned my gaze on my wife, still sitting silently opposite me.

"Did my mother just admit to having had an affair?" I asked.

"It seems like it," she replied.

"And what did you think of her advice?" I asked.

"Can I answer that question with a question?" she asked, "well, more than one really."

I nodded my assent.

"Do you actually want to save our marriage, or do you just want to walk away? I won't fight a divorce if that's what you want."

"It's not what I want," I said, "what I want is you, my Sally, by my side. But I want to feel secure that you are by my side. I want to know that you'll come home to me at the end of every shift, that you'll love me. I want you to be the mother of my children, I want to die in your arms at a very old age, but I can't have all that if I don't know, deep inside, that you won't be going off with other men."

She opened her mouth as if she were about to speak and I held up my hand to stop her.

"Sally, please don't tell me that you've learned your lesson and that you'll never do it again. Let me remind you again of your promise at our wedding. It included forsaking all others and cleaving, whatever that is, only to me. You broke that one, please, love, give me something to hang a belief that you won't decide that any other promises you make will be broken when it's convenient."

She looked at me and I could see the tears forming in her eyes.

"I can't Dave," she said, "any more than you can promise, one hinder per cent that you will never stray from your marriage vows. All I can promise is that from now until the day I die, I will do my absolute best to stay faithful to you and only to you. Even if we divorce, I have no intention of ever allowing any part of any man but you into my body. I just hope that that's enough. We need to talk this whole thing through, but not here. This is the wrong place, please, take me home tonight and let's talk there."

I don't know why, but I got the impression that that was the most honest statement she'd made since this whole thing began. We went home after dinner.

ACT FOUR.

We left for home straight after dinner and arrived just over an hour later around eight o'clock.

The new sat and talked, or rather, for most of the time Sally talked. She talked about the incredible pressure that they worked under, the emotional strain of having, for most of the working day, another human being's life in your hands. The added strain when that life was that of a child, and the huge emotional drain when you lost one. Then all the training, all the being told that you had to be distant and unattached went flying out of the window. She talked of sitting in the doctors' rest room afterwards, head in hands, sobbing because you'd just gone out and told a set of grieving parents that despite trying your best, your best hadn't been good enough and their child was dead.

Seven months earlier, they got a new Consultant on their team. Peter Mortensen. He was, she told me everybody's idea of the dream boss. Cared about his team, made a point to learn about their husbands, wives, kids and interests. Whenever he saw one of them shaken at something that had happened in the operating theatre, he sat with them and consoled them, talked them through it. Told them that surgery was like a game of football, no matter how good a player you were, you couldn't win every game.

She went on, telling me about how they discovered he was very good at shoulder massages. It was, she had always said, been a feature of life spent hunched over an operating table for hours that your back and shoulders ached at the end of it. A fact I appreciated after the number of times I'd provided shoulder massages for her after a long day at work. The most worrying part of this conversation was my worries about what those massages often led to.

"So that's when it began?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" she replied.

"Sally, you remember what me giving you those massages used to lead to."

"No, it was entirely professional," she said, "the only strange thing about it was that all the time he was doing it, he was muttering."

"What about?" I asked.

"I don't know, it was very indistinct and the few words I could make out sounded foreign."

"Danish, perhaps?" I asked.

"It could have been," she replied.

Whatever it was it was another piece of information.

Before we could carry on the phone rang and, since she was closest Sally answered it.

"Hello," she said.

There was a few seconds pause and she held the phone out to me.

"It's Jutte Mortensen," she said, sounding not too happy.

"Hello, Jutte, what can I do for you?"

"I thought I'd just give you a heads up," her lightly accented voice replied, "I have today started divorce proceedings against Peter."

"Oh, thank you for letting me know," I said, "but how does it involve me?"

"I'm sorry," she said, "but I have had to name your wife as co-respondent. I've put his adultery down as confirmation of irretrievable breakdown and she was the only one whose name and address I knew."

"Don't worry about it," I said, "but thank you for letting us know."

"You're welcome," she said, "could I please speak to your wife for a moment?"

I held the phone out to Sally, "She'd like to speak to you."

While Sally spoke to her I went to the kitchen and made coffee.

When I came back, whatever they had been saying to each other, they had finished and Sally was at on the sofa with tears on her cheeks.

"What's wrong," I asked, gently.