Not Just for Christmas Ch. 07-09

"You cheered them up," she said with a resigned air; she sounded ten years older than she was.

"How did things go?" he asked.

"You know how stubborn Mum is," she smiled, almost in spite of herself, "but it is really weird. She didn't read your letter just put it away. I asked her why she had gone off you, and she said she hadn't but it wasn't fair on you. Just like you said. I told her she was wrong but she wouldn't have it.

"So I changed the subject and asked if she'd had many visitors. She was so relieved I'd changed the subject she rabbited on about who came and what they said. She was surprised that some of your friends came to see her. I wrote their names down and who came with whom after I came away." She smiled broadly at the success of her mission. He realised that the girl had a prodigious memory.

"Well done!" he said. "That'll help us a lot."

"I don't get what you'll use them for."

"Neither do I at the moment. Tom has ideas, and I'm sure all will be revealed in time. Anything else?"

"I said for her to read your letter, in case you needed a reply."

"And?"

"Well, she wasn't going to but then she changed her mind. She read it. I think she wanted to cry at some of it. She just said you're a good man."

She smiled at him. "I told her I knew that already."

"Is she going to reply to it?"

"Don't know. She didn't say."

--

Mike brought Tom the results of Siobhán's clever eliciting from Claire the names of the people who visited her. They went over it together.

They dismissed Jessica, and Julie-from-next door: they were obviously friends of Mike as well.

"Let's see," Tom said. "Hey, what are Sharon and Tracy doing visiting Claire? She doesn't know them."

"Sharon met Claire the Saturday before the attack. We were in the club that night and she came over. She told Claire I wouldn't sleep with Bryony because of Claire."

"You have fucked Tracy though," Tom said.

"A long time ago, after the divorce, but she wasn't there with Sharon that night at the club."

"How did they know Claire was there in hospital?"

"Come on, Tom!" Mike said. "We were all over the papers and the local news."

"OK," he agreed. "Who are these two? What does 'next door' mean?"

These were a married couple that Siobhán had described on the list as 'Next Door'.

"Claire's next door neighbours." Mike told him.

"These?" Tom asked, pointing to a list of about seven names.

"Friends from College." Mike said. "I recognise Laura's name. She came to see me once. They all seemed to come and see her. Nice people, but I notice the bloke who nearly raped Claire didn't turn up."

The next name was Dylan Johnson.

"Didn't you lend him money about five years ago?" Tom asked.

"150,000." Mike answered. "He's still paying me back, very slowly."

It was supposed to be a short-term loan. Cheryl had gone on and on at Mike to lend it to him, it was a cash flow problem with his small photography company. Mike charged him interest at the rate of inflation. Five years later he still owed him 80,000. At the time he borrowed it, Mike was beginning to suspect Cheryl was playing away, and he thought Dylan was one of the players. He could never prove it though and had no interest in trying.

"So what's Dylan doing visiting Claire?" Tom asked, intrigued.

"Siobhán said he came with Tracy," Mike answered.

"So she came to see Claire twice?" Tom noticed.

"Seems so." said Mike

"But why?" Tom said thoughtfully. "She didn't know Claire."

"Siobhán said Sharon and Tracy told Claire they'd come to see me and decided on the spur of the moment to call in on Claire, but I never saw them. Perhaps I'd already been discharged. Perhaps Tracy was just being kind, she's a nice woman."

Then Tom exclaimed in surprise, "Oh I don't believe this, Bob French?"

"Says here he came with Tracy and Dylan, they were all going on to a party. This is weird. Why are all these other people we know and Claire doesn't, coming to see her?"

"I can't see Bob French putting himself out for a woman he couldn't shag," said Tom. "That's all he ever thinks about. Bloody layabout. I know at least three married women he's doing during the day."

"It's said that he's got a big prick," Mike suggested with a naughty grin.

"And girls say size isn't important!" Tom said and they both laughed.

"Mike," Tom said decisively. "I don't buy this. We need to talk to Tracy about it. Fancy going clubbing on Friday night? Meet a few more of these altruistic people who visit strangers in hospital and put them off their boyfriends?"

Mike laughed, then thought for a moment. The children would be gone the next day. He would be free to go the day after and could probably do with cheering up. Tom had already begun the cheering up process.

"OK," Mike said. "The kids are going back to Claire's tomorrow. I'll be free."

It was Mike's last evening with the children. So he left Tom, having arranged to meet him at 'their' club the next evening for a meal. Then they would see if they could find any of the hospital visitors.

The last night with the children was fun. He determined that there would be no time for tears. They played rowdy board games with a lot of laughter. The children jumped on him and they had tickling games. Jessica laughed but kept well clear.

Finally the two younger ones were off to bed and they read a bed-time story together. It had been a practice of Mike's to buy three or four copies of a simple story book and then they would read the story taking the parts of the characters, each of them taking on more parts as characters appeared in the story. It had had a dramatic effect on Ryan's reading and caused much laughter, as they would often fail to pick up on their cues or read each other's lines, but everyone read and enjoyed it.

Once they were abed and asleep, Jessica, Siobhán and Mike put all their things together, though Mike kept back some books for when they came to visit. Everything was packed, and they laid out the children's clothes for the next day. Toiletries were left until they had washed in the morning.

As Siobhán was hugging him goodnight she asked, "Can I come back Saturday and stay till Sunday?"

"If your mother doesn't mind, yes of course."

"She won't," said the teenager meaningfully.

Next morning, the atmosphere was charged. Mike was ready for work as the children came down to breakfast and that included Siobhán surprisingly, who, being a true teenager usually slept in during the holidays.

He promised to come back as soon as Claire was ready to arrive at her house and wanted the children to join her. Jessica would load the car with their luggage and Rosemary would drive the children there in his car.

He got a full day's work done by two o'clock and at three thirty the call came. So Rosemary and Mike went back to the house. They hugged and kissed their goodbyes, and he repeated his promise to have them over as often as they wanted and their mother allowed. Then they left, waving to him from the car, their faces looking back at him until the car disappeared.

When Rosemary returned she looked grim.

"What's up?" he asked. "Any problems?"

"Oh, no," she said, "I asked her why she was messing everyone up and she said it was in your best interests. I told her she was being patronising and was being a bloody fool. Then I left."

He sighed. Rosemary was always direct but it didn't always help. She was in a rush to get home.

The evening was quiet, eerily so. Before Christmas he didn't feel lonely in the house but now he felt it with a vengeance. He left the house and went for a long drive to a local beauty spot where he parked and looked out over the countryside. Birds were singing, he could hear sheep bleating and cows lowing. The sky was blue and the air still. To his right the red sun was sinking towards the horizon. All this would be here long after he was gone and was here long before he was born, he thought. He was a very small part of this universe. That didn't really help; he still felt a deep sense of loss and he resolved again that he would not relinquish this fight. He would not let her go without a struggle.

He had a few whiskies when he got home and went to bed early only to be woken by his mobile phone.

"Dad?"

"Hello Siobhán."

"Mum says I can come on Saturday and stay till Sunday night if you bring me home."

"That's good. I'll look forward to that."

"Love you Dad."

"Love you too Siobhán."

Chapter Nine

On Friday night Mike took a taxi as he always did when clubbing in Manchester. One never knows how much drink will be consumed or where one will end up. Especially that night.

After the meal, the first person they saw was Bryony and she saw them.

"Hi!" she greeted them, "Good to see you back to normal Mike. How are things with the love of your life?"

"I wouldn't know," he replied. "She's left and taken the family with her."

"Sorry?"

"She's left me."

"Left you? But you were getting back together."

"Bryony, you're talking riddles. Claire's left me and taken her family back to her ex-husband's house."

Long silence. Then, "Oh, Fuck!"

"Problem?" Tom asked.

"Mike, I'm soo sorry!" she said disconsolately, "I always thought you were talking about your Cheryl."

"What?" Mike was astounded.

"It never crossed my mind you were 'with' Claire," she hastened to add. "Oh, Mike, when you were in hospital I was out on the town with Sharon and Tracy."

She stopped.

He nodded, "Go on!"

"I told them about our night together and you loving someone else and I told them it was Cheryl! I never thought you were with Claire!

"Tracy and Sharon came visiting you but you'd been released. So they visited Claire as just your housekeeper. Tracy said she was telling her about whether she'd be still living in when you and your ex. got back together. No wonder she looked puzzled."

"She told her we were getting together? Cheryl and me? Why would you think that for fuck's sake?"

"Tracy was telling me and Sharon. She said your ex., Cheryl, and you were talking about getting together again. She didn't think Claire's family would go down well with Cheryl."

"But there's no chance of Cheryl and me getting together. We've not talked since she came to the house a while back and I threw her out. Where did Tracy get that from?"

"I don't know," she replied, looking very uncomfortable, "but apparently she said to Claire, 'Didn't you know? Well don't tell Mike you know, I'm sure he'll tell you in time. Probably wants to be sure.' Sharon said she felt uncomfortable, because Claire looked upset."

"I'm not fucking surprised!" Mike said angrily.

She paused, looking embarrassed.

"Sharon said that that when they were going out of the hospital Tracy said something like, 'Silly cow, thought she had a chance with him,' and she laughed."

Another pause, she looked horrified.

"Mike I'm so sorry!" She was almost in tears. "I really didn't realise Claire was the one you wanted."

The normally effervescent and carefree Bryony embraced him and kissed him. He smiled.

"Don't worry, Bryony," he said. "You weren't to know."

They hugged again and she walked off, no spring in her step or wiggle to her hips.

Tom had kept very quiet throughout. Now he spoke. "Tracy's not here, and I can't see any of the others we want to talk to. Let's have a couple of drinks and go."

Which they did. In fact the couple of drinks turned into five or six, and when they ended at Tom's place they took to the whisky. They rambled round the topic of Claire but got nowhere. They knew they needed to talk to Tracy.

Next day Mike awoke early with a headache, and roused Tom, who drove him in the silence of a joint hangover to the house. Siobhán arrived and settled herself in her room to do some holiday schoolwork. Mike took her out for lunch. She wanted to know what Tom and he had done but he put her off until they had more information. She did not like it but accepted it. In the afternoon he took her shopping, or rather she went shopping and he paid. Then they took in a film in the evening.

He left her to sleep on Sunday morning and was downstairs, showered and dressed by nine. He walked to the newsagent, bought a paper and returned. He made coffee and baked some frozen croissants and ate and drank while reading the paper.

He was still reading at eleven when the doorbell rang. He opened it and to his surprise there stood Cheryl. This time she did not give the cheery greeting she had used last time, but stood looking anxious.

"Cheryl!" he said. "What are you doing here? Sunday morning at eleven? When were you ever up before lunchtime on Sunday?"

She gave a self-conscious half-smile.

"Mike," she said, becoming solemn, "I was stupid last time. Can we talk? Now you're alone again?"

He was about to tell her about Siobhán, but for some reason decided not to.

"I can't see any point in it but if you insist."

"I'm in no position to insist on anything," she said. She actually sounded contrite.

"OK." He stood back and she entered and stood waiting.

"How about the living room and I'll make some more coffee?" He gestured to the room and she smiled and went in.

She was dressed demurely in a summer blouse, skirt and sandals. The material was opaque so he had no idea what lay beneath, nor did he want to know.

While he made the coffee she wandered round the living room, touching the things they had bought together, picking things up and putting them down again. He brought in the coffee.

She sat down on the sofa. He detected an invitation which he refused, and sat in his armchair instead, pouring the coffee and adding milk and sugar as he knew she liked it.

"You remembered," she said with a smile.

"We did live together for four years you know," he said and couldn't stop a small smile. She smiled back.

"So, Cheryl, what do you want to talk about?" he asked.

It was obvious she had rehearsed the speech, probably even refined it complete with pauses and appropriate glances and even the odd pout. Sometimes a pout has the opposite effect from that intended.

"Mike, my darling," she began; he let the term of affection go. "I've been a fool. So stupid. I was immature and selfish and thought our life together was boring. I was so wrong. Those four years were the best in my life.

"Gordon seemed so lively and dynamic, a real risk taker, but once he and I were together life was even less exciting than when we were together, if you see what I mean. He did nothing round the house; I was just his maid and bed-mate. He was good in bed, but he didn't love me like you did. We had sex; we had lots of sex. As I say, he was very good, but it was sort of empty.

"My problem was that I was trapped. I'd divorced you and I heard you were having a great time playing the field; I knew some of the girls you had, and they would tell me what a fool I'd been to dump you. You were out on the town every weekend. I was so jealous. I knew what I'd lost.

"Then Gordon did one dodgy deal too many and lost everything. He threw me out. I took the jewellery he bought me and sold it; it kept me going for a while. I got a small flat and then I got this job at the Echo. At least I was able to party again, but Mike darling, it didn't do it for me any more.

"My love," she shot a glance at him to see his reaction to the word, "I realised that it was you I needed. I understood what we had in those years. So I had the silly idea that I could just waltz back into your life. You were right to throw me out. I got a shock to see you there with that housekeeper of yours and her kids, and you had a nice ready-made family so I hadn't a chance.

"But now... Well, they've gone and you are alone again. She's walked out on you, even after you did so much for her. If you hadn't rushed to her she'd be dead, and you risked your life for that daughter of hers. And she still walked out."

Again she searched his face for a reaction. He did not give her the satisfaction though he felt deep anger, but was it at Claire or at this conniving woman? That he did not know.

"I promise you, Mike," she went on. "If you'll give me another chance I'll never walk out on you again. This time it really will be for life. Please, Mike, could you find it in your heart to forgive me and give me a chance? I'll show you how good it can be. We had good times together and you know our lovemaking was out of this world. Let me show you all that love again."

He remembered the wheedling tone of her voice whenever she wanted something in their marriage. Here it was again and it put him right off, but she hadn't quite finished and her voice took on a note of desperation.

"Now I know what I had in you, I'll show you that every day. Just a trial, a few weeks just to see if it would work? I can be so good for you. Please?"

He was dumbfounded. Silenced. He stared at this woman who was twisting and twining her fingers together, her eyes begging him. He was sorry for her. She was unhappy and he didn't like to see unhappy people. But trust her? He didn't think so; in fact he knew he could never trust her.

He wondered if she had some sort of plan. He had that feeling he got when someone was trying to finalise a contract and thought they'd put one over on him. If she did have a plan, and if it succeeded he didn't think he would figure in her life at all.

He reacted as he did in business deals with dodgy salesmen: play along and see where it leads, get more information. He had a sudden flash of memory.

"Cheryl," he began, choosing his words carefully. "You will understand that any trust I had in you has gone. You can't blame me for that, can you? I'll ask you a question, maybe two. First. Were you ever unfaithful to me while we were married? If so, how many men and who were they? Second. Did you know Claire and her family were here before you arrived that day? Be very careful with your answers."

Ever since she arrived, she had that air he knew so well, that she'd get her own way in the end, but now she was rattled. It was a naughty pleasure on his part to see her scrabbling round for the 'right' answer. Eventually it came and he then knew she had a game plan for sure.

"Yes," she said penitently, "I did have an affair, but only the once and it was with Gordon just before I left you. But you guessed that or you wouldn't have tested me on it."

Again she searched his face to see if he believed her, but he was used to keeping a poker face in business and it came in useful here. He suspected she had regular flings and now he would try to find out from other sources.

"As to the second," she continued hurriedly, "Yes, it came as a real surprise to see your housekeeper and her family."

Oh no, dear Cheryl, he thought, You don't get away with that one. You didn't answer the question. Once again his face did not betray any reaction.

In fact he believed it was a half-truth, she might have found out, being a reporter but still have been surprised by the reality of them in 'her' house.

"When you left me," he said, "I didn't commit to anyone. I had no strings one-night-stand sex with any woman who was willing. Relief of sexual tension, that was all it was. It's taken five years to commit to anyone else and that commitment was to Claire."

He saw a flash of satisfaction cross her face; she hadn't been sure that they had been an item. Now she was.

"So what I'm saying," he continued rapidly, "is that the first time I committed to anyone, it was to you, and you let me down. Now Claire has done the same and it hurts. So I'm in no hurry commit to anyone again."

There was an immediate look of disappointment. She had banked on his falling for her obvious charms, and sexually she had them in spades. They had had some mind-blowing sex when they were together, and he thought she banked on that memory to reel him in. Her shoulders sagged.