Know Nowt Nigel

The roll of refuse sacks was still there so I started clearing out all her drawers and wardrobes and stuffing the clothes in as screwed up as possible in the refuse sacks, starting with all her smart designer label clothes that she wears for her loving pal Nicholson at work. I dragged the first three or four sacks down to the garage, poured a good measure of thick black oil into each of the sacks and tied them up. I spilled some of the oil on the garage floor, thinking, silly, clumsy me. I had some muddy old wellies stored out there for gardening. I put them on and trod in the oil and walked oily muddy footprints throughout the hall, the stairway, landing and the master bedroom.

I lost count of the number of sacks of clothes but it was a lot, at least 20. I had been thinking about what I was going to do about the bed. There was no way I was ever going to sleep in it again, or use any of that bedroom furniture.

I had already decided that I would be unable to use Toby's alibi as only I could have come home and moved Pat's stuff out to the garage. Bugger! The size 10 welly footprints were a bloody big giveaway, too.

I figured I wouldn't get locked up for any more than six months for the arson on Nicholson's car and decided it was worth every single day. I might even get a suspended sentence if any of the three magistrates had been divorced from a cheating spouse before.

So, after tying up the last bag, I grabbed my 14-pound sledge hammer from its hooked resting place on the wall and took it up to the bedroom. I smashed each bedside cabinet with a couple of gratifying blows of the hammer.

The shower room had been quiet for a while. I hadn't noticed until then. Once I started using the hammer, though, the blue murder screaming started up in earnest. For a moment I wished that I had an axe instead of a sledge hammer so I could hack through one of the panels in the shower room door and do a "Heeere's Johnny!" from "The Shining" film and really put the willies up Pat for one last time. Without advance notice you can never really plan these things out properly can you?

I smashed up her dressing table and all the wardrobe doors and did the works on the full-length mirror that she loved so much. I thought that, as I had just discovered I'd had 28 years of bad luck, another seven was just a stroll in the bloody park. Then I started wrecking the bed. It all went quiet in the shower room as I moved the violence nearer that doorway. I assumed she had fainted in terror, or slit her wrists. I was past giving a toss either way by then, quite frankly.

I dragged the mattress down the oil-soaked stairs out to the front of the house and dumped it on the lawn. I opened the garage and brought out the last of the oil and poured it all over that mattress. I was just putting the can away on the shelf with my back to the open garage door when I got the fright of my life.

Pat's voice immediately behind me, angrily shouted, "What the hell's going on here, Nige?"

^^^***^^^

That pretty well brings us up to date. I walked away from Pat without saying a word. I didn't trust myself to be civil. I drove away that night, still in my wellies, with just the oil-stained work clothes that I stood up in.

I never heard anything from Nicholson. So there was no court case for arson. I did eventually get court papers for the legal separation from Pat, with all our assets frozen until the two girls finished their full-time education. I was ordered to continue paying an agreed amount into the joint account for maintaining the house and payment of the mortgage. I wasn't happy about it as it didn't leave me much to live on.

I cut my costs by giving up my mobile phone and my car. I was fed up with all the messages from Pat, probably saying her affair didn't mean anything or something like it. I never listened to any of them, but I guessed what BS they would consist of.

I bought a second-hand bicycle to get to work and rented a one-bed studio flat above a noisy row of shops, basically because it was cheap. I had to change jobs, Grafton Graphics went bust as the firm weren't properly insured apparently and I was laid off, along with everyone else.

Finally, after about three months of trying, I got a job in a little high street copy shop, taking orders, designing little print jobs, making paper plates and printing off using small offset or even doing a bit of photocopying documents. It wasn't much but it was a job.

The kids took their Mum's side, naturally, when I called them individually the next day and they all said they didn't want anything to do with me. They all agreed that I needed locking up after what I had done. Nothing about what she had done to me. I may have frightened her, she destroyed me.

Funnily enough the only family I have been in contact within the past year is Pat's sister Evie. She came into the copy shop one lunchtime about two weeks ago and suddenly we were looking at each other, not quite knowing what to say. She's popped in a couple of times since and each time she's told me that Pat wanted to speak to me. I kept telling her until I was blue in the face that I didn't want to speak to the lying cheating bitch or any of her selfish bloody children. Anyway, I pointed out, it was Pat that enforced the legal separation, not me. Evie said that that was all a mistake, they thought they could flush me out of wherever I was hiding to face them in court, but I never turned up to question the court ruling.

Anyway, then Evie came in to remind me that it was the first anniversary since what we have both laughingly referred to as the "Shower Room Incident". Evie wanted to take me out to a restaurant to celebrate or commiserate. I tried to tell her no, I really didn't want anything more to do with that family, but she refused to listen. She pressed and I admitted to her that I simply couldn't afford to go out, the separation payments were milking me dry. OK, I still had my redundancy money, about eight grand, but that was tied up in ISAs, strictly for emergency use only.

Evie insisted that she would be paying for the meal, so I agreed to go out with her so long as we went somewhere cheap. When she asked why, I admitted it was because I had walked away with just the work clothes I stood up in that night and I didn't have a suit or even anything even smart casual. What I could wear I'd picked up from charity shops. She gave me such a look of pity and squeezed my arm, that I was even more determined to stand her up.

Still, at the last minute I remembered Pat saying once that Evie had a crush on me when she was younger, so what did I have to lose? I'd lost my pride long ago and I had nothing else left.

^^^***^^^

I'd arranged to meet Evie at the restaurant for two reasons, one I didn't want her to know where I lived, in case she told my family, and secondly I could always walk out and get on my bike without being stranded. I suspected that this was a trap for an ambush by Pat.

I don't know why I thought that would happen. Pat and I were legally separated and she could escalate it to divorce at her leisure and I expected her to do so once the girls left university. I was just suspicious of Evie's motives, being let down by one woman made me suspicious of them all.

Look, as I explained earlier, I am no spring chicken, I am nobody that anyone would give a second glance to. I have not got a girlfriend, hadn't had one for years and, quite frankly, I don't want anything to do with any of the lot of them. So why was Evie so interested in taking me out? Even if she once had a teenage crush on me nearly thirty years ago, she's eleven years younger than me and a fabulous-looking forty. I am a disillusioned fifty-plus single man with ridiculous sticky-out ears, who was settling comfortably into becoming a depressed and lonely old man who couldn't give a fig for the rest of the world.

I parked up the push bike and padlocked it to a post on the edge of the car park next to a gloomy wall of the restaurant and pulled the bottoms of my trousers out of my socks. I tucked my helmet under my arm and marched into the restaurant. I was unfashionably earlier, by about ten minutes. Looking around the tables with a cursory glance I didn't expect to see her yet, but there she was, at an intimate table for two. Maybe that meant I wouldn't be ambushed by Pat at all. Evie looked very attractive but that didn't change the fact that this was a relationship that just wasn't going anywhere, I looked like something the cat dragged in and I wasn't really in the mood to have someone sitting in front of me who was a constant reminder of her sister, my ex.

As I walked up to the table, Evie saw me approach and got up to kiss me on the cheek. I popped my helmet under the table. She looked at this act and asked,

"Not brought the car with you tonight?"

"No car, period, had to give it up. Every penny I have goes to your bitch sister to keep her, her lover and her girls in the manner to which they are accustomed," I said bitterly.

"Oh, I didn't realise how bad things were."

"Well, I lost my job when the factory never reopened after the fire. That meant I was out of work for three months, then as soon as I get another job which pays about half of what I used to earn, your sister slaps court orders on me freezing my assets from the time we were married and further demanding blood from a stone."

I retrieved my helmet from under the table and stood up. "Look, I'm too angry to eat, this was a mistake coming here, I've got to go."

Evie stood up and grabbed my hand.

"Please don't go, Nigel, I really wanted to speak to you and well, look at you, I've never seen you so thin and drawn, you need feeding up. Please stay?" she pleaded. Evie was like that little girl of 12 again. If I stayed I would expect to get a pile of questions all starting with double-u's.

"OK," I said. I'm easily persuaded. Perhaps I was just fed up with a diet of beans on toast at my flat. No wonder I didn't have many friends.

Evie ordered a pint of lager for me and some sort of cocktail for herself, she'd already had one. She ordered a mixed grill and I went for a big juicy singed steak, chips and mushrooms. I still wasn't sure if I was hungry but thought I might as well go for broke, Evie could afford it and I couldn't let the opportunity go begging.

While we were waiting for the food to arrive a strange thing happened.

A woman walked up to the table. Quite attractive, smartly-dressed, if anything she was rather over-dressed for this establishment, perhaps even a bit on the brassy side. Aged, I would have said, in her mid-to-late-30s, dark-haired, worn shoulder length. She stopped by the table and stood next to me.

"Excuse me," she said with a hesitant, nervous voice. She glanced briefly at Evie, too, then back to me, "Do I know you?"

I noticed she wasn't wearing any rings on her left hand as I stood up. She was an inch or so shorter than me, slightly built but with an amplified rack and appeared to be even more nervous once I stood up than she had been a moment before. I can,t help it, I have to stand when addressed by anyone.

"I don't think so," I tried to smile to put her at her ease, "I'm sure I would have remembered anyone as attractive as you if we had met before."

"And you don't bear any grudge against me?"

"No, of course not, I've just said that I don't know you at all, I am certain we have never even met before." My smile had vanished by now. This evening was turning out to be a disaster.

She smiled at my statement and she held out her right hand, "I'm Janet, pleasure to meet you" she said.

"I'm Nigel, pleasure to meet you." We shook hands and then she said "Thank you," and walked off. I watched as she continued through to the exit and out the door. I sat down again, bewildered.

"That was very odd." I remarked. "Do you know her?"

"Yes," Evie said after a slight hesitation. "She went through quite a trauma last year and been undergoing therapy ever since and I hoped you could help her. Also, I thought that she may help you in her turn, or at the very least give you a bit of a boost."

I regarded Evie. Why do the women in your life always want to manipulate you, use you for their own purposes, in this case to bolster some poor soul who had confidence issues? I used to be happy once upon a time, without a woman in my life, why can't they just leave well alone. Probably because they are curious, a realist might suggest; or because they are women, a cynic would say. I knew what camp I was in, had been for a year.

"What other surprises have you got arranged for me during this dinner, Evie?"

"Nothing during this dinner, honest, Nigel, I just want you to enjoy the meal and for us to have a nice chat."

"I am happy to chit chat about anything except my failed marriage or your sister and any of her, and therefore your, family. OK?"

"OK," Evie agreed, "So where are you living now, Nigel?"

"I'm renting a one-bed studio flat, I won't say where it is."

"Is it comfortable, Nige?"

"No, it is cold and damp and extremely noisy, it is not in a very nice part of the town and there's always lots of youths hanging about outside. I have to bring my bike into my room for safe-keeping."

"I could speak to Pat about lifting the financial restriction conditions of the separation, if you want?"

"No, the end is almost in sight anyway, it is only for another year or so, I guess until Junie finishes her masters. I assumed that Charley got her degree, as the payments to Pat went down by a couple of hundred a couple of months ago?"

"Oh, yes, she did pass, with honours. I went up to Newcastle with Pat to the graduation ceremony. It was lovely," Evie said, "Charley was quite tearful that you weren't there to see her, too."

"Yeah, I bet. Charley gave me a right mouthful when I rang her last year and the ungrateful bitch said she never wanted to speak to me ever again," I said bitterly.

"That was because she didn't know the full story. She does now, she thinks. Charley had sent you the invitations by email but never got a reply."

"She appears to have forgiven Pat easily enough for what she did, if Pat was invited." I said, "Anyway, I don't get emails any more, I had to give up my mobile phone and I had left my laptop at Pat's."

"Charley's stayed on in Newcastle, she's got a local job and says all her friends are up there now."

"Great, I wish her well."

"I'll pass that on when I see her."

Then the waiter appeared with our main meals, spending a minute or two setting out our plates and fetching me some mustard and ketchup plus a steak knife. So we settled down to eat. Once I started eating, my appetite discovered me in that state of malnutrition that I'd found myself in for months and I actually made rather short work of it, even eating the side salad for once. Evie ordered a top up of drinks so I decided to have a second lager.

By the end of the main course I felt quite mellow and decided to ask Evie how she was. Even when you try your hardest, a negative Bolshie attitude is difficult to maintain after a couple of pints and a steak dinner at someone else's expense. Maybe that's why some girls put out on a first date?

"I'm OK, thank you," she smiled, "Still working at the same place, and there's been no significant other in my life since the last divorce. Same old, same old, really. What about you, romance-wise?"

"Nothing, I have a problem with trust issues — natural I guess after a long relationship goes sour."

There was a pause in the conversation.

"You've not asked me about Pat's love life."

"That's because I'm not interested," I replied, truthfully, "and I believe we agreed not to speak of her."

"You are still hurting, though?"

"No, not really. Not about my marriage as such, I think that I have accepted that it was probably over a long time before muffins here realised it. If we get divorced any time soon I don't think I will shed any more tears over it. OK, I am a little depressed about my living and working circumstances, but on the other hand I quite like being on my own and not having to worry about getting dirt on Pat's carpets."

I actually smiled thinking about those bloody carpets.

"She hated what you did to those carpets-"

I interrupted her by laughing out loud and clapping my hands together.

"-She had them steam cleaned and still didn't get all the stains out. She ended up having to replace the hall, stairs and landing carpets." Evie was chuckling as well at the thought.

"What colour are they now?" I asked.

"A dark grey, sort of mottled."

I couldn't help it, I had to get out my hankie again, my eyes were streaming.

My third pint of lager arrived then and we ordered ice cream for afters. Then followed coffee and brandy, I should say several brandies. We did chat but not about anything in particular, or nothing that registered with me really. I was starting to get a nice buzz. It was then that she dropped the sixty-four thousand dollar question.

"Do you want the evening to continue? I'd like you to come back to my place for a nightcap. Would you come?"

I hesitated. Actually, the evening had gone very well and I was starting to enjoy it. I hadn't been out socially anywhere for a year. I did miss company, I also really missed female company. However, Evie was much too close to home. I wanted to get away from all that. I hate complications.

"Sorry, Evie, I need to get home, I've got to go to work tomorrow, besides, I don't want any complications in my life right now."

"Please, Nigel, I cannot drive anyway because I have drunk too much, so I need to get a cab. Please come back with me just for an hour or so, we can have a coffee or two and then I will arrange for you to have a lift home. No funny business on my part, I promise you."

"There's no point in this, Evie. I care for you, of course you are a beautiful woman, but I regard you just like a sister. We will never be any more than that."

"Wait here," she said, "I'll just go ring for a lift and we'll discuss it further when I get back."

I twiddled my thumbs for a while after she left. The waitress came to clear the coffee cups and glasses, I ordered another couple of brandies and asked her for the bill. Still no sign of Evie. I got the feeling she had done a runner and and left me to settle the bill. Bugger, I thought, it may be a cheap restaurant but I bet the bill was up to about £70 and I didn't have anywhere near that much cash on me.

The brandies and the bill turned up together, it was over £80. Damn, I might have to do the washing up for them for the next fortnight if Evie's done a runner. I've definitely had it up to here with the Bellows family!

I slowly drank my brandy, spending an appropriate amount of time warming it in my hand, swirling round the liquor, breathing in those heavenly fumes. Still no sign of Evie, so after I finished mine I grabbed her brandy and warmed that up in my hand. The waitress looking after our table hovered about and walked past several times, probably wondering why I was left on my own and had not settled the bill yet. I was thinking the exact same thing and wondering how long it was to go before closing time.

I must have been there all on my lonesome for what seemed like at least twenty minutes and then Evie finally came back, somewhat to my relief, which must have been betrayed in my face.

"Miss me, honey?" she asked.

"Thought I was going to have to do the washing up and I left my favourite set of marigolds on my drainer at home," I replied.

"Sorry, I was just sorting out my ride. Still room for you to come along too, if you've changed your mind, of course?"

"No," I replied, "Maybe another time when I feel a little more sociable, in say, a couple of years' time."

The waitress brought over the credit card machine and Evie settled the bill, to my relief. After the waitress had run out the sale receipt for her and moved away, Evie smiled at me, "Ready?"