The Promise

I agreed, then told her of the improvements I had in mind for Fenside. She was genuinely interested.

"This would all be much easier if you were promoted to Jack's position. It will be very soon."

I thought about that, and asked her to hold fire for a while. If divorce was on my horizon, it would be to my advantage if Pam was earning more than me. As Penny left, the crowd parted for her, and some of the male drinkers actually touched their caps as she passed. Once Dan arrived we tied one on, though I didn't mention Penny or my suspicions about Pam. We both had too much strong beer, and I only vaguely remember walking home.

Sunday morning I felt terrible. I remember that date; November eighteenth. Trudi came down, unusually subdued again. I enquired how yesterday's match had gone.

"It was ok."

I thought that was a strange description of a football game and looked at Pam. She asked Trudi why she was so quiet.

"Oh, nothing. I've got to go now." She was galvanised into action, grabbed her school bag, and rushed out.

"What was that all about?" asked Pam.

"She's biking round to Julie's." I replied. "They're going to work on a joint homework project."

Trudi had told us during the week, but Pam had forgotten.

"She seems out of sorts." said Pam. "Perhaps it's her time of the month."

Trudi was still a daddy's girl. I didn't know what was bothering her, but I did know it wasn't that.

My headache was not improved by a mighty crash as Pam dropped a plate.

"This fucking place is too small!"

I was tempted to ask how the size of our kitchen affected her ability to keep hold of a plate, but said nothing. The silence drew out, making her feel stupid.

"I'm going to get the Sunday papers!" she snapped.

She did not say a twenty minute walk in the fresh air might take the edge off her temper. But we both knew.

She breezed back in, looking more cheerful, and dumped the papers, along with her handbag, onto the settee where I was sitting. What happened next, I recall in slow motion.

Her phone rang. She fished it out of her bag and said 'Oh no!" Then listened for a minute and turned, white as a sheet.

"That was mum. Dad's had a heart attack. I've got to get to the hospital now."

"Want me to come?"

"Not this time, let's see how bad it is first. Mum's frantic. You just be here when Trudi gets home."

She dropped her phone and pounded up the stairs, and I did something I'm not proud of. I grabbed it while it was still open and unlocked. I selected a contact at random, and typed 'Hi' but did not send the message, hoping that would stop it closing. Then I slid it under a cushion and zipped her bag shut. She rushed back down, grabbed her bag, and left.

I waited a few minutes before retrieving it - 'Message not sent' -- it was still open. It took ten minutes to check her messages. As suspected, most were between her and Keith Rallison. They began just after the harvest celebration, and a pattern emerged. Pam must have been drunker than I thought. And somehow, they'd got talking about sexual fantasies. I hadn't seen anything physical at the party, but they'd ended up swapping phone numbers. Nothing wrong with that, Penny and I had done the same.

The messages took a while to get going, but once they did, they got explicit. She was venting her frustration at our 'poky little house'. Keith confessed to curiosity in anal sex, which his wife would never allow. When they'd been dancing, Pam must have let slip that it was on our agenda quite often, and was not as important as 'proper sex'. His messages were subtle at first, but eventually he said he wanted to try it so much, he would pay her for the privilege. She was shocked -- she was not a prostitute! All contact stopped for a week.

When it started up again, he apologised. Of course she was not a prostitute. He was only trying to show her how much he wanted her. One thousand pounds was mentioned. You could get twenty prostitutes for that kind of money round these parts. So I've been informed, anyway.

'You are very rich.' she texted.

I know her better than anyone. What she meant was: 'What a lot of money, just for my arse!' But he clearly thought he had pitched his bid too low.

'For an hour of anal with you, providing you let me go twice, I'd go to fifteen hundred!' he suggested. 'And I'd pay three thousand for two sessions.'

I could almost sense her considering it.

After more toing and froing, she agreed. Despite our promise, she was arranging to have anal sex for money. He might convince her it wasn't prostitution, but it didn't fly with me! OK, three thousand was a lot of money, and would make a big difference to any house upgrade. But the way Pam would earn it made a difference to our marriage. We had made a promise.

Later messages refined their arrangements. But the cluster that had been sent on the night I went to bed early, took off in another direction. The company owned a detached ex farm manager's house; very convenient for Trudi's school. Keith might be able to sell it for less than the market value, and blah blah blah. So this was why the subject of selling up had not mentioned recently. My buying it after getting promoted was one thing. But agreeing to anal sex for it was something else entirely. I wondered which one of the Rallisons actually owned the place - probably Penny.

Keith insisted he could sell it to her and three thousand pounds would cover the deposit. And maybe a few more anal sessions would help fix it up. Pam got reeled in. And now I was too late; their first assignation had already taken place. This was unbelievable! My wife, who had made that promise, had let some older guy fuck her arse! Then got in the shower and washed the evidence away. I finished their final thread.

Yes, she thought the sex had been exciting. He was a real stud, and yes, she was looking forward to doing it again. But no, he would never have her vagina or mouth. Saturday mornings were best, as Trudi was usually at a friend's or playing football. Pam would let him know when I was away again, and he could return for round two. Then he suggested, as he was the boss, perhaps he could give me some Saturday work. My employer was actually conniving to get me out of the way, so he could fuck my wife! I forwarded the messages to my own phone. Then closed hers, pushed it under a cushion and piled the Sunday papers on top. Next I phoned Penny.

"How do you feel about your husband getting hurt?"

"Oh no! It's your wife then? I'm so sorry." she replied.

"Yes. Ironic isn't it? When we met in the pub, they'd been hard at it just hours earlier!"

"My God! Are you sure?"

"Yes. They'd been planning it for a week."

"Did you catch them?"

"No. But I have plenty of evidence, though not enough to go to court with. They're planning a repeat performance. Apparently Saturdays are best."

"And you want to hurt them?"

"Burn them. Especially her!"

"Where are you now?"

"On my own. Pam's at the hospital -- her father is ill. And Trudi's gone round to her friend's."

"Don't move. I'm coming round."

She calmed me down and we came to an agreement. Not as dramatic as my revenge ideas, but she was making sense. If her milder plan worked, at least I would still get to burn them. When we'd sorted out how to proceed, we discussed some improvements for the truck loading and queueing problems. Penny liked my idea, and set off to meet Mr Stapleford, a nearby farmer.

Trudi came home.

"Where's mum?"

"She had to go to the hospital. Your granddad's ill."

"Oh no. Is it serious?"

"We don't know yet sweetie, so there's no point in worrying about it. Shall I do some lunch?"

"No, it's ok. I had a big lunch round Julie's."

We looked at each other. I could tell she was worried.

"Dad ..."

My phone rang. It was Pam, on her mum's phone.

"I left my mobile behind, have you seen it?"

Even now she could shock me. Her father had had a heart attack, and her mother was supposedly frantic. And she was worried about was her phone!

"Well it should be easy to find, in a poky place like this!"

"What?"

I could have kicked myself. I was supposed to be playing it cool. Trudi went discreetly to her bedroom.

"How is your father?"

"Oh, he's over the worst of it. They'll be letting him home in a few days."

"Good. Are you coming home now?"

"Soon. I have to drop mum off first; she came here in the ambulance. Then I'll make her something to eat and come back."

"I'll see you later then."

I put my 'poky place' crack down to not hearing news of her dad. I liked her dad. I knew Trudi had something on her mind, but decided to wait till she was ready to talk to me. I had enough on my plate for the time being.

Pam burst in, like Trudi late for the bus. Perhaps this was where my daughter got it from.

"It's no good, my mum can't cope. I'll have to go and stay with her a couple of days."

She packed a bag and came back downstairs.

"Did you find my phone?"

"I didn't even look for it. Where did you have it last?"

Actually I had checked; made sure it had password protected itself again.

She went straight to the settee and rummaged under the papers till she found it. I noticed the look of relief when she discovered it was locked. I made her sit down and gave her a cup of tea.

"You need to calm down. You're in no fit state to drive."

"OK."

"I need to say something before you go." I said.

Her face was a picture of panic.

"Since we came back from Singapore and made our promise, we haven't spent any nights apart."

"I hadn't really thought about it. Is it a problem? We don't have enough room for mum here."

"No it's not a problem, you go to her. Trudi and I will be fine. It's just ..."

"Just what?"

"I don't want you to forget our promise."

"Don't be stupid. I'll be with my mother the whole time. I couldn't entertain lovers at her place, even if I wanted to."

"I know. I'm just being silly."

(But I don't much care for being called stupid)

"What brought this on?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's your dissatisfaction with our house. I do have plans to improve things you know. And suddenly I began thinking about our promise, and I just needed confirmation."

"We agreed no more sex outside the marriage." she said. "I haven't done that, and have no intention of doing so."

"That's fine then."

What I was really doing was giving her a last chance to step back; I still loved her after all. Perhaps she was doing a Bill Clinton, thinking only vaginal sex was real. She'd crossed the line but, angry as that made me, I wasn't about to throw away all the good years without trying.

Trudi came down and we all hugged. Pam left, and Trudi made a phone call to her friend, then came and sat with me. Was this the moment she would choose to unburden herself? Apparently not.

"Dad, I've spoken to Julie's mum. Can I go and stay with them? She did say it was all right."

"But you'll be all right here with me, won't you?"

"Of course; it's just that you'll be busy, and might not be here when I get home from school. Julie and I want our school project to be perfect. And you'll be visiting granddad too. I hate hospitals. Look, forget I mentioned it. I'll stay here. You might need looking after, more than I do!"

"No, it's not a bad idea. Tell Julie's mum I'll come and see you each evening, before I go to the hospital."

She'd manipulated me -- where did she get that from? But it worked out surprisingly well. Josie, Julie's mother, insisted I join them for an evening meal before visiting duties. Alan, her husband, dragged me up The Farmer's Rest a couple of times. I'd never socialised much with them before. They were nice folks and the week flew by.

Both my womenfolk came home on the Friday. Pam's father was home again, and her mum was coping. I told them Keith Rallison had given me an extra task; measuring the rear access area, with a view to submitting for planning permission. He wanted to expand into the land beyond, to make more room for the trucks to turn. The job was going to take me most of Saturday. Trudi looked disappointed; something was still on her mind. Pam acted as if it was a surprise. It was a ridiculous idea. Keith should have contacted the owner before drawing up plans to encroach onto his land. And it would take a rectangular chunk out of the field. Farmers like straight edges. But he offered me double pay and I acted grateful. Pam wanted to make love on Friday night, but I managed to put her off. Bellyache; been missing her cooking.

She made another big breakfast Saturday. This felt like deja vu. Trudi came through in her usual whirlwind, asking for another five pounds, another cup match. I asked her who she was playing as she rushed out the door.

"Bourne!"

Now that was odd - again?

"Pam? I have to go and do that overtime. While I'm out, could you pop round to the newsagent and get the papers please? I ordered a DIY magazine; it might arrive today."

"Sure."

My turn to dish out the errands! I drove to the pub, parked in their carpark, and then walked back. If it came to it, Penny could explain to her husband why I hadn't done the overtime. When I got to our road, I cut behind the garages. From the back of ours, I could see the front door. Pam came out and headed off for the shop. With Mrs Rallison's camera in my pocket, I slipped into the house.

Our promise was obviously about to be broken again: the anal lubricant was now on the bedside table. I mean, how blatant could she be? My hiding place was waiting for me, in the bathroom, behind the shower curtain. It was already closed of course. There was no Plan B if I was discovered. It occurred to me that if Pam had got her wish, I'd have been doing this from an en suite bathroom, which would have been easier. As it was I'd just have to walk to our bedroom once they got going.

"Len?" she shouted.

I smiled. She was checking. I heard the door close and she got on the phone. I couldn't make out much of the conversation, but got the last words: 'Ten minutes.' She stayed downstairs and I worried they might do the deed down there. But soon I heard two sets of footsteps coming up; and our bedroom door closing.

I allowed them a few moments to get naked, and then stepped into the hallway. With my ear to the door, I heard Pam say 'No.' I opened it quietly and raised the camera. My timing was perfect. She was sitting on the end of the bed, with Keith's dick dangling in front of her face. Neither of them saw me.

"How about I get your pussy this time then?"

"No, we agreed anal only."

How very moral of her! Their agreement must carry more weight than the one she and I made.

"Come on. Let's just get this over and done with. I've got things to do." she said.

I think if a woman said that to me, it would put me off. It was precisely the attitude you'd expect from a prostitute, and she was doing this for money after all. But it didn't bother him in the slightest. Probably used to it.

Pam got on her hands and knees on the bed and reached for the bottle of lubricant. The camera was nice and quiet. She half turned towards him and poured some oil into his outstretched palm, then took a handful herself. He stroked it over his dick, and she fingered a load into her arse. I grinned; any moment now! He just had enough time to thrust into her before they both started screaming. I stepped in and reeled off more photos as fast as possible.

Keith whipped his dick out of her and stared at it, still shrieking. It was bigger and harder now, and extremely red. It looked like it was about to explode! He rushed towards the door, presumably to get to the bathroom, and ran straight into my fist. He sat down heavily on the floor, looking confused. He was holding his throbbing dick with one hand and his bleeding nose with the other. His eyes streaming tears he tried to get up, but I planted one foot on his face, and pushed him back down. It was one of the most satisfying moments of my life.

Pam, still crying loudly, was writhing around on the bed. She reminded me of that scene from The Exorcist. She hadn't seen me yet, and appeared to be trying to get her hand up her arse. Only when she stood, did she notice me. Her mouth opened and I pushed her back onto the bed. Though, to be fair, I only used the palm of my hand.

And there the three of us stayed, frozen in our comical tableau. Neither of them tried to move again, except for the wriggling around and crying. Then Keith looked up and tried to stand.

"Please!" he wailed.

"No!" I replied, and he pissed himself all over our bedroom carpet. A couple of minutes later, Pam tried to rise. I shoved her back onto the bed. Then she groaned, and did something worse than pissing herself. We'd need a new duvet.

"It's time for you to go folks! Get some clothes on and call for an ambulance. Oh, and to give you the most efficient treatment, the medics will need details of what you ... er ... took. Tell them you're suffering from Mr Wu's Extra Spicy Singapore Sauce!" They really were in a serious state and called 999. I did not let them use the bathroom. The ambulance men were wrinkling their noses as Pam limped into it. Keith had to be taken on a stretcher. I leaned in through the door and handed Pam an envelope.

"I took this from his jacket; five hundred pounds. I'm keeping a thousand for a new duvet and bedroom carpet. But you've earned this much. Don't come back."

In the weeks that followed, Keith Rallison disappeared completely. Penny took a more active role in running the company. Following my suggestion, she had bought a small piece of land off Stapleford. Not at the back of Fenside, but adjacent to the unused side of their warehouse. She put in a new gate, giving Stapleford additional access to his field. This opened up the other end for rear exit. With a slight rearrangement of our pallet storage, trucks could now drive straight through from one end, unload, and exit from the other. No more turning and queueing.

Jack Welby's position got filled by a Czech woman off the packing line. She'd been with us three years and deserved it. Me? I'm Manager Production and Planning. Oh, and Trudi and I live in a four-bed detached farmhouse. It has two bathrooms upstairs and a downstairs toilet - and a nice study / office, which I haven't found a use for yet. The place still needs a lot of work, but we're getting there slowly. As soon as we moved in, Trudi finally told me what had been bothering her.

And today I'm sitting, with Pam in the office of Mr Garside, my solicitor. Since being discharged from hospital, she'd moved back to her parents. She was still earning well, but not as well as me. I'd hoped to delay my promotion, but Trudi wanted to live with me, and we needed the extra money for the house. Now, I would have to do battle over that, my salary and pension.

Mr Garside spoke.

"This is an informal get-together, to prepare you both for divorce proceedings. I'd like Mrs Yeats to confirm she does not want legal representation."

"I don't. But if I may, I would like to speak first; Len has not spoken to me since ... what happened. And I think this is best said in front of Mr Garside."

"Go ahead." I said.

She turned to face me.

"First, I apologise for my behaviour Len. I know 'sorry' is inadequate, but I have to say it; for my own benefit as much as yours. I'm truly sorry."

"OK."

"Second, I will not be using a solicitor, as I intend to offer no defence. I was completely in the wrong and will accept any settlement you impose. There are things I want from a divorce but frankly, I don't deserve them."

I was stunned. Pam was falling on her sword.

"What I did to you, to all of us, was disgusting and unforgiveable. I can never put it right. The pain and humiliation you caused me that day, was no more than I deserved; probably less than the pain I caused you. I'd also like to say, your subsequent handling of this has been admirable. You've let me see Trudi whenever I want, and have never blamed me. Thank you for that."