Fat Chance Ch. 02

He hesitated about what he was going to say next, so I finished it for him, "Giving her what she wasn't getting at home?"

"That's what she told me, yes."

"Well, she was right. We stopped talking together about anything long ago and when she stopped wanting to make love to me, then I guess I stopped asking. I just thought she was going through the change and didn't want to be bothered with sex any more. If I had known she wanted sex four times a week, I would have been more than happy to oblige."

"Four? We only met up ... Oh! Shit!"

"Shit yes! You on Tuesdays and Thursdays and Shithead Gavin on Wednesdays and Fridays and possibly between ten and noon yesterday morning. I hope you used a condom every time?"

"Yes, I insist on it, usually, but Mrs Cox prefers it bareback and a couple of times she's got her way. Fuck!"

"I think I better get checked out first thing tomorrow, I suggest you do too. You know, until a couple of days ago, I thought we were just going through a rough patch and that Maisie loved me just as much as I loved her. Now, I don't know if my wife ever loved me and I never suspected a thing. It was a friend that told me."

"I never wanted this. I wasn't looking for an affair. I love Josie, she was my childhood sweetheart and I want to keep my wife and my family, they are my whole life. I would hate myself if she found out and left me or ended up hating me." Gordon was almost in tears.

"Trouble with keeping these things from our spouses, Gordon, is that we do find out eventually," I said quietly, "And it's no fun for the victim and often it is the killer of any relationship. As far as I am concerned I don't have a wife any more, it's over, she has destroyed every feeling I ever had for her. As for you and Jo, well she won't hear any word of this from me. But you better treat her like a princess from now on and be absolutely indispensable to her in case she ever finds out. Otherwise, all this effort in making good this gift for your daughter means nothing if you break both their hearts when you are given your marital marching orders."

"The next quarter event at Ferndale Valley is next weekend," Gordon said. "I'm not going, Mrs Cox is taking one of the girls along," Gordon continued, "That means Marshall-Hobbs will certainly be there."

"Can you keep up the pretence of my ignorance of this affair when you see Maisie on Tuesday and Thursday?" I said, "so that she doesn't suspect anything? I think the proverbial will hit the fan a week from Monday." I laughed and so did Gordon. He said he would try and act as if nothing had changed.

When I had finished the dolls house wallpapering, I took my leave of the little family, after giving Kylie and Jo big hugs, receiving a special invite to Kylie's birthday party. I whistled a merry tune on the way home. I think I had a plan.

I had fun this morning too, the first I had since speaking to Karen just a couple of days ago and my world had collapsed around me.

From the van, I called Adrienne to tell her that I had just heard that my wife had been having regular unprotected sex with at at least two other lovers going back over the last four months and said I was going to organise my health examination next week.

I had never heard such swearwords from a woman before. There were several I meant to look up the meaning of when I got home.

Maisie was still in bed enjoying her lay-in when I got back and we barely spoke during the meal on Sunday. Afterwards I lost myself out in the garage working on my van and sorting out the tools that I wanted to take with me when I left this house for good.

Monday morning saw me in the proprietor's office at the garage when the boss got in at nine. I told him my marriage had gone down the pan and I needed time off to sort out my problems. I advised him that as soon as everything was settled that I would have to resign as I was selling up house and moving abroad to, as I put it, "find myself again".

He had been there, done that, and understood perfectly. He wondered if I could still do his website remotely, which I agreed would not be a problem. I told him I could access the server from anywhere and, provided he had the photos and descriptions on the computer hard drive, I could log in and do the work at any time of the day or night. We agreed a price for the service and I said I would be in contact once I had set up a new bank account. It only took me twenty minutes to show Glenys, the girl in the office, how to use the digital camera and download onto the appropriate folder on the hard drive. I told her to type up the car details on a word processor package and how to tie in the pictures to the text. I reminded her to never turn the hard drive off, to enable my access, and we were set. I shook hands with everyone and walked out of there free to carry out the rest of the plan.

Before doing anything else, though, I called the Family Planning Clinic and got an appointment early Wednesday afternoon for tests for sexually transmitted diseases.

The house deeds were in my name, fortunately. When we bought the house, I was the only wage earner, as a journeyman car mechanic. At the time Maisie was still a student, with no income, so the mortgage and therefore the house was in my name only. Even though that was what the deeds said, as we were married throughout the repayments, so the proceeds from the house would be split 50/50 when we divorced. This did mean, however, that I could legally sell the house without her requirement to sign any paperwork, thus without her knowledge of the sale. The deeds were in a safety deposit box at the very bank where Maisie worked, so I couldn't really look them out while she was there.

I did ring Gordon at the bank though. I couldn't remember his surname, or even if he had ever given it to me, but a quick description of him and the telephonist patched me through. I asked him if he could find out some info for me without getting himself in trouble. He said ask away and he would let me know what he could do. I wanted to find out the registration number of Stewart Marshall-Hobbs' car, or at the very least the make and colour. I also wanted to know if the girl going to the conference centre with my wife was an innocent or not.

Gordon knew the woman at head office who controlled the pool cars. He had to speak to her earlier this morning to sort out paying for the two new tyres that Maisie had got over the weekend. He didn't think he'd have any problem with her, so he would have the info either today or tomorrow and would email it to my laptop. As for the girl who would be accompanying Maisie, she was young but had already been divorced once and was one of the worst flirts in the office. She had been telling anyone in the office who would listen how she was looking forward to her dirty weekend. I asked if he could find out what room numbers Maisie and her beau were booked into. Gordon thought that the hotel didn't actually decide that until the last day, but he would try.

Gordon added that he had cried off Tuesday and Thursday nights with Maisie, using the excuses that Josie had to go in for a scan Tuesday afternoon and that they had to go back to the maternity wing on Thursday afternoon for the results. He was sorry if it upset my plans but he just couldn't stomach going through with it any longer. I told him that we were cool. He gave me his mobile number and I sent him a voicemail so he had mine.

Who would figure it? My wife's lover was fast becoming a friend.

I visited a couple of estate agents later on in the morning and arranged for visits on Thursday early and late morning respectively, to value the place for a quick sale. The only other thing I wanted to do that day was check the value of our investments and savings, there wasn't a lot there. The credit cards too, came in for a bit of checking. Again on-line, I was able to increase the limit on three sets of joint credit cards, plus a credit card in Maisie's name from her own bank. She didn't use it very often as the APR wasn't too favourable, so the card was usually kept in the dining room drawer reserved for wallet, purse and cheque book.

Although Maisie worked in a bank and I got grease and dirt under my fingers all day, she was hopeless at financial budgeting, so I did all the accounts and therefore I knew all the passwords. I made another visit to the supermarket and bought a joint of hock on the bone for soup and topped up the chocolate bars for the fridge. Then I left the car at the house and wandered down the local pub for a couple of very enjoyable pints.

I was enjoying myself, actually. I used the free wifi in the pub to order a laptop charger for the van. I thought that this would come in handy, with me motoring back and forth from the house to conference centre and down to the caravan. I also looked up some on-line divorce lawyers and filled in a form with the one I thought looked good. They weren't the cheapest, but it was all going onto Maisie's credit card anyway, so I didn't care about the cost.

I prepared a nice wholesome vegetable soup as a light supper for us to enjoy after the Slimmers' Club weigh-in that Monday evening. Actually, I made two different soups, one with pure tasty vegetables, smoothly blended, nutritious and absolutely delicious. The other concoction used some of the same resultant soup puree, but with added protein powder and grated full-fat cheese and butter. It tasted fine, but I opened another bottle of wine in the fridge just in case, pouring down the sink the equivalent of a small glassful and topping the bottle up with neat vodka.

When Maisie came in, I informed her that I would be going down to the holiday caravan for the weekend on Friday night and asked if she would be coming?

"Sorry hon," she answered, "the bank's quarterly shin-dig we usually have at Ferndale is happening this weekend, Friday evening to Sunday morning. I'm sure I told you a couple of weeks ago."

"In that case," I said, "I'll probably pop down to the caravan on Friday afternoon straight from work, as you'd be having an evening meal at the hotel. Will you be joining me at the caravan on Sunday?"

"No," she said, "it's not worthwhile going all the way down late morning and coming back home in the afternoon, especially as I will be tired after working all weekend."

Yeah, I thought, 'working' your butt off all weekend.

"Never mind," I said, "we have our holiday booked for the first week of May like we have every year and it's less than two weeks away."

She didn't say anything and I wondered if she was thinking of breaking up with me before I got a chance to break off with her. I was curious to consider if I would be piqued by that but I realised it didn't make any difference. I just wanted this farce of a marriage ended one way or the other, hopefully on my terms but if not, so be it. The sooner I got everything in place to upstage her the better.

The weigh-in at the slimming club on Monday night went well. OK, with the beer treats I had during the week, I only lost a couple of pounds, but took me to within a handful of pounds of my target weight. Maisie was furious. She had put on a couple of pounds and was right at the upper limit of her target range. Also, she was clearly pissed off that Gavin didn't turn up, which was unusual for him.

The lovely Karen was weighed and lost a pound and a half and went out of her way to give me a comforting cuddle and, with a whisper, ask how I was holding up. I assured her that I was fine and it was all going to work out for me. Maisie looked daggers at us both but didn't say anything to me.

During a quiet spell on the front desk, I sent Adrienne an enquiring text about Gavin. She called me back and said she had decided to keep him under her thumb and he wasn't going anywhere on his own anytime soon. She sounded really cheerful and not stressed at all. I suggested she come down to the club with him next week, not that she needed to lose much weight, but she might find it fun. She laughed and said she'd think about it. Adrienne wondered how Maisie and I were doing. I told her which way our relative weights were moving for each of us and we had a laugh about that too. Adrienne was a delightful girl and it looked like we were becoming friends, too. Relationships, honestly! Then a rush of slimmers came through the door to be booked in, so I reluctantly had to ring off.

My dear wife was clearly agitated about something when we got home. She tried texting a couple of times when she thought I wasn't looking but I couldn't hear her receive any replies. I imagine she must've done some texting while I was occupied on the desk, too. I was grinning like a Cheshire cat while she looked like the pedigree pussy handed a bowl of soya milk. She had a couple of glasses of fortified wine while the soup was being heated up and I poured myself a light beer.

When I served the soup with a big hunk of bread, I topped up her wine glass to the brim. I was delighted to see that she finished everything up without any bother. She must've been hungry. It made the enjoyment of my own version of the tasty soup even more satisfying. Yoghurt and fruit for afters was also great, full fat for her and non-fat for me, I am sure both versions were delicious and, as a nice bonus, she finished off that bottle of wine. I made a mental note to get in another case at this rate plus another bottle or two of vodka.

Next day Tuesday was a workday for Maisie and she had a hangover, nor was she in a very good mood. Still, a bar or two of chocolate after breakfast seemed to help settle her stomach a little.

I left the house as if I was heading to work before her as usual, and parked down the road waiting for her to drive by.

Then I returned home and went completely through her wardrobe, selecting some everyday clothes and other items I recognised that she wore frequently. I sorted them into different suppliers and packed them into a couple of carrier bags for each store. I drove down to the shopping centre and started with Marks and Spencer, then Next and a number of other high street chain stores. I was trying to get some of the same style and colour but in a size or two bigger. I had mixed success, apparently all these stores seem to change their women's fashions every fortnight or so, while the guys' stuff seems to only change every couple of years. Anyway, I bought what I could on the credit card. At home I packed them back in the wardrobe, having remembered to cut out the size labels. I chucked the small sizes in the Sally Ann charity bin.

I felt in a particularly generous mood on Maisie's behalf during that Tuesday. For one thing, I booked and paid up front for a slap up romantic dinner and a room for the night for Adrienne and partner at the swankiest hotel in the district for a couple of weeks' time. It barely made a dent in Maisie's bank credit card.

I called Adrienne about it and, of course, she was delighted with Maisie's generous gift, even if Maisie knew nothing about it.

After all it's the gift that counts, not the thought.

Adrienne said she could easily arrange for her children to go to her mother for the night. I said it was the least that Maisie could do for her. I did think to ask her if she had a suitable frock to wear for the occasion. She was sure that she could manage to find something appropriate.

I informed her that simply managing wasn't an option, so I said I'd pick her up on Wednesday morning and re-enact that shopping scene from the 'Pretty Woman' film.

She laughed and said I had a date. I arranged the pick up time for after nine, once she had packed the kids off to school. I signed off on our phone conversation but not before I had found out her favourite hairdresser and told her to keep the Saturday afternoon free before she went to the hotel.

When I terminated the call to Adrienne, I found I'd received a voicemail from Gordon. He told me he had sent a couple of emails and directed me to check out my laptop. I did, and found Gordon had come up trumps. He had confided in several trusted workmates that he and Mrs Cox's husband were exposing the quarterly sex scandal. His friends came on board and, with their help, Gordon had been able to put together a dossier for me to show who they believed would pair off at the weekend. He had included identity photographs from their personnel files and car index numbers to boot. Another document was a list of all the senior members of the board, who Gordon thought might be interested in what was going on, and their email addresses.

I could have kissed him, but my wife had been there, done that; perhaps I could kiss Josephine instead and she could pass it on. I rang Gordon at work.

"Can you talk?" I said.

"It's lunchtime and most people are out of the office, so go ahead."

"I wanted to thank you for the info and also warn you that the S will hit the F on Monday."

"I thought so," Gordon chuckled, "do you need any help at the weekend?"

"No, I'm good, I just need to organise some photo and security camera equipment on-line."

"You can hire everything you need in town. I'm a keen amateur photographer and have a discount card at the store. If you want to go now, I can help you get the right kit."

[to be continued...]