The Empty Nest Pt. 01

"It's a recorded conversation between two people, with one speaking French."

"How did you get it?" Charlie eyed me with suspicion.

"The female voice on the recording is my wife. She forgot to hang up properly after speaking to me." I sat down heavily in the closest lounge chair.

"Oh." It was her turn to be embarrassed.

"I can still do it if you like. I doubt I'll hear anything I haven't heard before," she said, gently placing a hand on my shoulder in a motherly way.

"All right," I said with a sigh. "I recorded it on my phone." I got my mobile out and found the file before handing it to her.

"Do you have an earpiece for it? It will make it clearer and I won't disturb you."

"Yes, I think one came with it." I went to the drawer we kept all that sort of stuff and found two earpieces. "I'm not sure which one fits. I'm going out into the garden. There is a pad on the dining room table for you to write on," I said, pointing at it.

I left her to it. About twenty minutes later, she opened the door and called out she had finished. I turned off the hose and went inside.

"I'm sorry, it's not going to be easy for you to read." Charlie said, "He has a very dominant personality."

At that moment, I felt very old and impotent. I couldn't bring myself to go over to the table where my phone and the translation were. It was as if they were mocking me from the other side of the room.

"Would you like me to stay for a bit?" She asked nervously, "I mean...you know, you're not going to do anything silly. Are you?"

"No, no, I'll be all right. I've taken you away from your family for long enough." I was touched by her concern.

A shadow passed across her face. "There is only my son David and he is at cricket practice. My husband John passed away three years ago from Melanoma."

"I'm very sorry," my troubles were suddenly put into perspective. "You must still miss him a lot."

"Yes, David is the spitting image of him, so he is never far from my thoughts." Tears were forming in her eyes as she stared out into the garden.

Wiping her eyes, she straightened and turned back towards me.

"If you're sure you are going to be all right, then I'll be off."

"Yes, thank you for your time." I led the way to the front door and opened it for her.

She as half way down the path when she turned and gave me a little wave goodbye, then she was in her car and gone. I suddenly realized that I hadn't offered to pay her for her troubles. 'Must send something to the school,' I thought. Closing the door, I made my way back to the table and her transcript.

It was as I expected, he was exerting his power over Rachel. The only times she said no was when he asked if she wanted him to stop. Mostly it was stuff about whether she liked his cock or was he better than her husband. Also, he talked about all the things he wanted to do to her, tying her up, fucking her arse, cumming in her mouth, that sort of thing.

I was angry and hurt, my ego was taking a beating as she told him how much better than me he was. Overall though, I was just incredibly sad to think after thirty years of marriage we didn't have the guts to say it was over. It had been a great ride, with lots of happy memories, but ahead was only pain. Some of my friends were on their second divorce and they marveled at our "perfect" marriage. That was going to be another blow to the ego.

I would love to tell you here that I got straight onto a lawyer to start the divorce proceedings. I didn't. I procrastinated. Two days later the phone rang at work and I answered without looking at the caller ID. It was Rachel.

"Where have you been? I've been worried!" she asked, with some concern evident in her voice.

"Just busy working, I expect you've been busy as well!" I replied with sarcasm.

My bitterness was lost on her. "I have been flat out! The builders are here and we have found a few extra problems. I think I will have to stay here!"

"Really," I said flatly.

My lack of enthusiasm was not noticed as once Rachel was in organizing mode she was rarely deterred from her path.

"Yes, it's probably going to run up to Christmas, so I thought, wouldn't it be great to have a family Christmas over here! I've already spoken with the girls, and they can't wait to get here."

"I'm sure they can't."

"At this stage, they should all be free to come about the 18th of December, so you had better clear your work diary for a few days before that just in case."

Before I could even think of what to say she continued.

"The stone mason has just turned up, so I have to go! Bye! Love..." There was a clunk at the other end as Rachel dropped the phone back onto its cradle.

Wow, I had just been hit by another "blitzkrieg Rachel"! I had experienced it many times before and was used to it, but it was still something to behold. Her single minded approach generally swept all before her, but sometimes left bitterness and resentment in its wake. I was unsure how to react to this one. The woman who I had recently heard begging some Belgian Romeo to keep fucking her was demanding my presence for a family Christmas.

Again, I didn't want a confrontation. A family Christmas in the south of France sounded great. Except, of course, that my wife would be there. Maybe that would be how we could stay "together". Perhaps, if separated by 10,000 miles, we could live as husband and wife. She could continue with her Belgian, and I could stay home. Ridiculous I know, but for the girl's sake I thought I would give it a go. It was still three months away, so who knows what could happen in that time.

I should have known better! Six weeks later I received an e-mail requesting a deposit on a chartered private jet. They wanted twenty three thousand dollars for a ten percent down payment! Needless to say, I got on the telephone.

"Christ, Jeffrey, do you know what time it is?" Rachel's sleepy voice inquired.

"I don't really care what time it is! I just received an invoice for $23,000 dollars for a private jet hire!"

I've got to give her credit, she didn't take long to get on the front foot.

"That's bloody cheap. I had to do a lot of haggling to get that price!"

"What the fuck is wrong with Qantas or Emirates! They do fly to Paris!"

"Yes, but there isn't much difference between nine first class fares and the charter price!"

"First Class! What about business! And why nine?"

"Well, I invited my sister, and I told the girls that we would pay for them."

"Why don't you pay for them? You organized it!"

"Umm... At the moment my money is tied up. Anyway they are your kids too! I have paid for the villa and the renovations, it's only fair that you contribute to this Christmas celebration."

"I'll contribute nine business class fares, that's it!"

"You always were a cheapskate!" There was a voice in the background, a voice with a foreign accent.

"Who's there with you?" I knew very well who it was.

"Ar...it's ...ar nobody. I just bumped the radio beside the bed." She recovered very quickly. "If you're only going to spring for business class, then you can organize it!"

"No worries at all. Say hello to Jacques for me!" I said as I hung up.

I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall in that room after she got off the phone. I could just imagine the conversation. What did he mean? Does he know? How could he know?

I didn't hear from Rachel for a week. I organized the flights and let the girls and Rachel's sister know of the change of plans. When Rachel rang nothing was mentioned of the change of travel plans or the previous conversation.

Something that had been said on that late night call was bugging me. "All my money is tied up at the moment." The villa had been one and a half million, I couldn't imagine the renovations costing more than a few hundred thousand. All right, I am talking about Rachel, so furniture and renovations could add up to one million, but that would still leave over seven million that had to be somewhere.

I rang Mandy from the London private investigators.

"I was wondering if we would hear from you again," she said after I had been put through by her receptionist.

"I hoped I wouldn't have to, but I have a mystery for you to solve."

"Ah, I thought you might want some juicy photos of the Belgian and your bride!" She laughed as she finished speaking.

"No, I'm sure the Belgian is involved, but I want to find out what Rachel has been spending her money on."

"That house wouldn't have been cheap."

"It wasn't, and I'm sure that her renovations are expensive, too, but I don't think she could have churned through the other seven million that quickly!"

"Bloody Hell!" Mandy gasped. "If I had have known you were that loaded I would have added a bit to the hourly rate!" I think she was only half joking.

"Never mind that, can you check into what Rachel and Jacques are up to?"

"Yes, but it might not be until next week. I'd like to use the same person so I don't have to brief somebody else. They are on assignment elsewhere, but should be finished next week."

"That's okay, I'm not in a hurry. I'm coming over for Christmas, and I just want to know the lay of the land before I get there."

"Can I just ask, why you don't check with your bank? They would keep a close track of transactions that big." Mandy asked.

"The account is in her name only, so I doubt I would have any joy there." I replied.

"Alright, I'll ring when our man has had a few days to check into things."

"Thanks, Mandy. How much do you want for a deposit?"

"It's alright, Jeff, I trust you. Especially now I know you're loaded! Any chance of a stopover in London? I'd like to meet the man behind that sexy voice." There was that laugh again.

"It wouldn't happen to have got sexier now you know I have a healthy bank balance!" I chided her.

"Oh Jeff, do you think I'm that shallow?" Mandy asked, taking mock offense.

"No, but I'm a married accountant, so I'm probably the most unsexy thing you can get!"

"Point taken, I'll call you next week." Mandy disconnected.

I felt good after that chat. Even if she was joking it was nice to be called sexy.

I was looking through a stack of letters that had accumulated during the week on the kitchen bench. There were the usual junk catalogues and special offers, and I came across my annual invitation to the local picnic race meeting. I had sponsored a race in remembrance of my father, who had been a keen horseman and owned a few country racehorses. Rachel had considered the local race meeting beneath her, so we had usually declined the invitation to the President's marquee.

"Too many hicks from the sticks!" Rachel would say.

I had been thinking of how I could pay Charlie for her help with the translation. Catching up with her at the end of school one day, I had offered her money but she refused to accept it. Perhaps a couple of tickets the Presidents' marquee would work. The next day I stopped work early and made my way to the school. I missed her at the teacher's staff room but found her in the car park.

"Are you stalking me?" Charlie asked with her hands on her hips and a smile on her face.

Even though the accusation was made in jest, I got embarrassed and blushed.

"Sorry just...you know...trying to pay you back."

"I've already told you there is no need," she said firmly with her hands up like stop signs.

"It's not money I'm offering. My company sponsors a race at the picnic meeting in three weeks. I get two passes to the President of the picnic race committee's marquee as a courtesy. They're yours if you want them." I replied, holding up an envelope containing the passes.

Charlie didn't say no straight away, which I took as a good sign.

"Free champagne and nibbles and a prominent place on the home turn to view the races," I continued.

She eyed me as she considered the offer. I was waiting what seemed like an age before I got a response.

"I'll take them on one condition. You have to come too, as my chaperon."

"Sorry, it's really not my sort of thing." I said.

"That's the deal! Take it or leave it."

"Why don't you take your son?" I asked, hoping to get out of it.

"I'm not taking my twelve year old to the picnic races!"

"Okay, okay, it's just I'm not much good at the society crap that goes on there."

"At least you will know some people."

"Ah yes...I guess you're right. I...I just thought...you might have someone else you wanted to take." I stumbled over my words at first then they came in a rush.

"No, between work, my son's sport, and domestic duties, I don't have time for a relationship."

"All right, I will pick you up about eleven am. There is a luncheon before the first race." I stepped back preparing to make a hasty exit to shield myself from further embarrassment.

"That sounds great!" She smiled as I squirmed. "Just one thing, Jeff, do you want my address? I don't come to school on Saturday."

"Oh gosh, yes! I suppose I will need that." What a dill, I thought as my face went a deeper shade of red.

Charlie gave me her address, jumped into her car, and was gone.

For the next two weeks, I was preoccupied by work and Mandy's investigation. I hadn't heard back from her and was getting agitated. I decided I would ring her that evening after dinner, but just as I sat down to my microwave meal the phone jangled.

"Hello!" I said rather tersely, expecting it to be somebody trying to sell me something.

"No need to snap at me, were you expecting your wife?" a feminine voice with an English accent asked.

"Sorry, Mandy. I just sat down to eat, and you know how the telephone marketers always seem to ring at that time."

"I can ring back later if you like?"

"No, I'll just whack it back in the microwave when we finish. What have you found out?" I asked eagerly.

"It's as you suspected. Jacques is involved. He has set up a company and your wife tipped the money into it. It is supposed to be a real estate investment vehicle. He has been jetting around France and Spain looking at land."

"Have they actually bought anything yet?

"Very perceptive question. As you are loaded, once my first guy worked out what was going on, I sent another person over to France. She managed to get a hair appointment at the same time as your wife and made sure she was in the chair next to her while they were waiting for the colour treatments to set."

"That would have been an enthralling half hour," I said sarcastically.

"Actually, it was very informative!"

"By 'she', you mean you?"

"I charge more per hour, sugar daddy!" She laughed.

"Oh dear god! What did she tell you?"

"Everything, sweetie! I saw photos of your girls and their partners, and even one of you!"

"Anything about what I'm paying you for?" I said, a bit annoyed.

"Keep your shirt on, Jeff, I am a professional. Rachel is under the impression that Jacques has purchased some undeveloped land and is organizing contractors to start work soon."

"Under the impression?"

"Yes, from our research the company appears to have no assets apart from what is in the bank. We can't find out how much is left, but it's certainly paying Jacques a healthy salary and covering his expenses."

"So, he is a parasite?"

"It would appear so, he is just milking her at the moment. I'll make more of a judgment when I meet him this afternoon."

"You're meeting with him?"

"Yes, I'm posing as a wealthy widow looking to buy a place in Provence, Rachel set it up."

"You and Rachel must have hit it off."

"I'm good at putting people at ease, part of my job. I'll ring you tomorrow when I have more to report. I have an appointment at the day spa in five minutes, I want to be looking my best for Jacques."

"Day spa? Is that going on the bill?"

"All work related, just like the resort I'm staying in!"

"No way am I paying for..." Mandy's laughter interrupted my angry reply.

"Sorry, Jeff," more laughter, "just winding you up."

"I'm glad I amuse you. Goodbye." I hung up.

I was pissed off. Both with the "joke" and her friendliness with Rachel, I couldn't help thinking the two were connected. I was cranky all the next day, and when the phone rang the next night I had to make a conscious effort to make my voice neutral when I answered it.

"Hello."

"Hello, Jeffrey. Before I start, sorry for yesterday. I was being silly and unprofessional. I just wanted to keep things light given the topic we were discussing. I took it too far."

"Yes, you did. Apology accepted, now what more did you find out." I was still angry, but at least she had realized her mistake.

"Jacques is smooth. He speaks very good English, but I think he plays up the French accent to impress the ladies. He has a way of being quite mesmerizing. I can see why he is successful with the ladies even though he is no George Clooney."

"Did he try to seduce you?"

"No, no, he wasn't blatant about it. It's hard to explain to a man. He just leaves you with the impression that if you wanted to take things to another level he would accommodate your wishes. It's weird, thinking back over our meeting he didn't say anything remotely sexual, or touch my hand, or anything. He was conservatively dressed, polite, but there was an undercurrent there..." I broke in on her wistful memories.

"Okay, enough about that. What about his business."

"He talks a good game there, too. Uses lots of real estate terms; baffle them with bullshit seems to be his motto. When I tried to bring up his and Rachel's company, he was very evasive. He seemed much more interested in how much money I had and was very good at steering the conversation that way."

"Money is his primary motive?"

"Definitely. Eventually I told him I had seven hundred and fifty thousand pounds to spend, and frankly, he lost interest."

"The day spa wasn't worth it, then," I said rather meanly.

"Oh very droll! Is that accountancy humor? I guess I deserved it, but wait till you get my bill!"

"Yes, I'm sure you will have the last laugh!" My mood had lightened a little, so I allowed myself a chuckle.

"That sounds better. You will get my bill this week, and the report once it's paid. See you at Christmas. Bye."

She was gone before I could inquire what she meant by "see you at Christmas".

I moped around for the next week, going through the motions at work. Coming home to a microwave dinner. I was doing my laundry on Saturday morning when my phone beeped signifying an incoming text message.

"Are you going 2 pick me up? Or do I have to walk? Charlie."

Holy shit, I had forgotten the races! Looking at the clock I saw it was a quarter to eleven. Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!

I ran upstairs, walked through the shower, grabbed some clothes, and was trying to put them on as I made my way to the car. Once in the car, I rang Charlie to let her know I was on the way. As I drove up, she was standing outside her house in a short white dress with a wide black belt around her middle and black high heels. I hadn't really taken much notice of her appearance before as I was mostly trying to cover my embarrassment when I had spoken to her.

She was shortish, about five three, or five four. Slim, almost skinny really. Small bust, I have no idea about cup sizes but they were never going to be a handful. Her legs and arms showed some muscle definition, no doubt from her gym work. As I got pulled into the curb, she smiled and I realized why I had never looked at her body before. Charlie was blessed with classic bone structure and flawless skin and teeth. She was truly beautiful, and when she smiled her face radiated that beauty for all to see. Her face was framed by blonde, shoulder length hair that had been pulled back in a ponytail when I had met her before. Today, she had been to the salon and it was out and styled to make her even more gorgeous. Topping off her outfit was a broad brimmed lacy black hat.