The Way Back Ch. 06

------

TWENTY-SIX

I had taken the day off work, and I had asked Jenny to come to the house from lunchtime and fill me in on our coming appointments. She told me she would then stay the weekend. She insisted, knowing it was Ann's wedding on Saturday and I have to say I was grateful. The morning was taken up with changing the bed. I felt it would be churlish to expect Jenny to sleep between the same sheets that had seen Trish's and my amorous activities of the night before. Then I shopped for us for the weekend.

I made some soup at lunchtime and she arrived in time to eat (or drink) it. I never worked out which of the two one does with soup. Perhaps it depends on how thick the soup is. Over the simple meal I told her of the previous night's meeting with Ann.

"You still feel something for her then," she stated when I had finished.

"No, I don't think so. I have feelings about how things have turned out but we've been through all that before."

"Allan, if you reacted so strongly to one accidental slip on Ann's part, you do feel something for her."

"If you say so," I replied with a bad grace, but I could not help wondering if she was right.

"So she still doesn't know about Derek's part in your disappearance."

"No. I won't tell her either unless she asks. In any case she'll be married to him by this time tomorrow. She'll have to deal with having a convict for a husband."

"Allan, that's not fair. It's vindictive."

"Sorry Jenny, she's made her bed, so... well you know the rest."

"Allan, I know it's been said before but she did give you twenty years of love. I can't imagine how she's feeling now."

We may have continued the argument at some length had the doorbell not rung. Jenny went to answer it, and I followed to see who it was.

She opened the door, and there on the step stood Ann's brother Peter, and Greta. There was a moment of stasis. Ann's brother just stared at Jenny. The look was one of wonder and admiration. I'd seen a lot of men look at her like that. It reminded me how lucky I was. Greta looked at Jenny and I realised she had never met her before. Of course Jenny had seen neither of them before either.

"Hello!" said Jenny, and I knew she was smiling in that way of hers.

"Hello," said Greta, "I'm Greta."

"Greta, how nice to meet you! I'm Jenny Tasker, your Dad's PA."

"This is Peter Drayton, Mum's brother."

Yes, I remembered him from the previous night. He's a very good looking man but at that time had no confidence in himself as far as women were concerned. His shyness meant he never made a move on a woman, so he was now in his mid thirties, and single, and I mean really single.

"Pleased to meet you Peter," said Jenny. "Please come in."

I saw Peter blush and I smiled to myself.

I ducked back into the kitchen and sat down before they arrived. Then I stood up again when they came into the room.

"Peter!" I said warmly. "It's good to see you again!"

We shook hands.

"Come here Greta!"

She hugged me and gave me a kiss.

Peter paled when he saw my head. He swallowed hard but managed to smile. Greta must have warned him. He made no comment for which I was grateful; I had heard it all before.

"Dad," said Greta. "Mum's called the wedding off. She's very upset. Derek is very angry. He was telling her that you, Geoff and David are trying to destroy 'the wonderful relationship they have'. Yeuck!"

"Allan," said Peter (I noticed he shot the occasional admiring glance at Jenny), "I don't know what you said to her last night but she came back to us very subdued. She said she wanted to go home; she looked very unhappy."

"Well, Peter," I answered, "I'm afraid I rather lost it. She criticised me for not telling her I was around and who I was, and added that as my wife she had a right to know.

"I told her that since she had divorced me she had no rights to anything from me. I think I pointed out she didn't exactly spend very long looking for me, and that she believed the story about the other woman rather too easily for my liking.

"You'll appreciate that when you come back from the dead after two years, it doesn't go down well that your loving wife is living with someone else and has divorced you."

"We all wondered why you left it until just before her marriage."

"Hey! I've been trying to talk to her for three weeks. She wouldn't talk to me. So don't give me that 'just before the wedding' crap."

"You clearly wanted to stop the marriage. Am I right?"

"Not necessarily, what she does with her life is no longer any concern of mine. We're divorced remember? I wanted her to know the true situation. She's hated me for no reason for long enough."

"But Greta says you've been back for months. Why wait so long?"

"OK Peter. The police wanted me to keep quiet. Let me put some facts before you. Just facts. I won't say more. You can make your own inferences. I can't tell you everything, but this will give you an inkling.

"The photos Trish showed to Ann show a man watching my cousin and me. You do know that the 'other woman' is my cousin and her husband?"

He nodded.

"One of my friends took me to talk with that man since he lives locally. The man told me himself that he got me to get into a car, saying that my client needed to clarify a detail in our contract. The car was a red Toyota. I was dumped from a red Toyota on waste ground in Newcastle. It seems two other men joined the driver. The men are also from round here. The police think that someone employed the three of them to kill me. In other words it was not a random mugging.

"The police are getting evidence together and have been since I got back. They much prefer me not to talk about it at all, and in particular didn't want me to contact Ann. They were emphatic about that. Since my memory was so impaired that I didn't know Ann at first, that was no problem, until that is, I did recognise her. I contacted Ann against their wishes, but she would not talk to me.

"Can you imagine Ann's feelings if she married and then found that the man who she thought had run off with someone else, had in fact been the victim of an attempted murder?

"As I said, I tried to see her but she refused me every time. Trish took control and you were there, you saw the result.

"Is that good enough for you?"

Peter was quiet for a moment or two, digesting the information.

"But I remember," said Peter, "last year -- March I think it was -- she said she'd had a letter from you. You said you were with someone else and were never coming back. That's when she became really bitter and angry. I think that until then she hoped you'd come back. She showed me the letter, it was cold and heartless. I couldn't believe it was from you; it was so out of character. But when it's there in black and white..."

"So Peter, you couldn't believe I would have written such a letter. But she did -- easily! How it was that when I had no memory of any of you here, I was able to write such a letter? I assume I signed it. Have you seen my signature since I've been able to write?"

I got some paper and a pen, wrote my name and slid it over to him.

Peter sighed, "It was a forgery."

I smiled. Nothing more was said. There was nothing more to say, but as they were leaving Greta as usual hugged me, and Peter shook my hand.

They left and Jenny gave me a hug.

"Very restrained," she smiled, "but if they've any brains they'll realise that Derek's involved in your attempted murder. Now it's time for a little relaxation."

She led me upstairs and undressed me, then herself, slowly and provocatively, especially her knickers which she slid inch by inch down her thighs and then let them fall, stepping out of them delicately. She sat me on the side of the bed and knelt before me. I was already half hard at the sight of her progressive nudity. Her body is really a walking wet dream. She took me in her mouth and worked her magic. My penis continued to rise until I was quite hard. She took her mouth off me.

"Shall I finish you in my mouth or elsewhere?" she grinned and flicked her blond hair out of her eyes.

"Elsewhere!" I said.

"Condom, I'm messy."

She rolled it on, then stood and straddled me, an action which opened her vulva which was glistening with dampness and a tell tale string. I leaned forward and attempted to initiate cunnilingus. Now in that particular position the man needs an exceptionally long tongue, which in my case I have not got. My nose got in the way and I couldn't reach her outer lips, let alone her clit. We both burst out laughing, and the laughter bred more laughter, until it became one of those situations where it is almost impossible to stop. Each time we drew breath, a new fit of giggles would break out.

She pushed me onto my back and straddled my face, then said, "Whoops, period, not nice!" but that brought more uncontrollable mirth. So she rolled off me and we lay side by side giggling, until exhaustion set in.

"I needed that," I said at length, "Life has been too serious for too long."

"Good!" said Jenny in a satisfied tone. "Laughter is sometimes better than sex."

"I don't think so!" I argued, sitting up and pulling her to the edge of the bed.

She remembered the position from Canada, and lay with one leg dangling and the other flexed with a foot on the bed, opening her up as I sank to the floor.

"In this leisurely position I think I proved my point, while never straying from her button. She was not laughing when she came from my short wide tongue on the clitoris of her exquisitely beautiful blonde-framed vulva.

She sighed at length.

"That was good!" she said, as if to herself.

"What did you think about Peter?" I suddenly said. I think I surprised myself; it certainly wrong footed her.

There was a pause. Then.

"He's very good looking."

"Peter is very, very shy," I said. "He's a classic case of the shy men I told you about. He would never believe you would be interested in him."

"I'm not. I've got you."

"I watched him and he fancies you rotten, but you're so beautiful you frighten him to death! You'd have to take him in hand."

"And mouth?"

"That too!"

"And... " She raised an eyebrow with a wicked grin.

"Yes," I laughed, "and speaking of that orifice, I have a piece of equipment to fill it nicely, and he's had his jacket on for quite a long time!"

She leapt from the bed, ran to the bathroom, and almost immediately ran back.

"OK, big boy," she giggled, "fill it up! Stuff it full!"

So I did. We fucked with an admirable synchronous movement, she rising to meet my thrusts in perfect time.

"Oh Jen, you're good!" I panted.

"Oh Allan, and I thought I was being bad!" she gasped in reply.

She would have laughed if she could, but almost immediately she did instead what I loved about her most of all. She froze completely as the first onset of her orgasm hit.

I held still.

Then she released with a cry, bucking and writhing as if to throw me off. I rode her until her spasms declined, and then fucked her hard until I in my turn was still as the first spurt of my semen shot forth, and then fucked her as deeply as I could while she slapped my backside with both hands and I continued to ejaculate deeply in her.

"God," she blasphemed or was it a prayer? "That was a good one."

I grunted my agreement as I took off the condom.

As she snuggled down into the crook of my arm, she sighed, "I don't need anyone else, darling. You're enough for me."

I said nothing, but I wondered about that. I wasn't sure that gratitude for exorcising her sexual problems was enough: being grateful all the time can be tiring. I couldn't help feeling that our relationship was unbalanced; she'd be better in a relationship of equals. However with such a woman in bed with me, I'd live for the moment. Let the future take care of itself.

At that point it hit me what Greta had said about the wedding. Peter had moved my attention away from Ann to my attackers, but now I took in the news Greta had brought.

Ann had called off the wedding. I felt a deep sense of relief and contentment. Unmarried, Derek had no incentive to do her any mischief. He had no call on her resources, beyond what she chose to give him. I wondered if she would remember me making the connection between my slow recovery and the forged letter she had received. She was intelligent and sharp enough. Perhaps if she hadn't, Peter would enlighten her. I wondered if she would look for a possible culprit, and whether Derek would come to mind?

At that point I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall of that house. Then I thought of Greta. She would keep her eyes and ears open. Perhaps I would still know what transpired.

We got out of bed in time to go out for a meal together, and then on to a pub for a couple of hours before returning home and straight to bed, this time to sleep.

The whole evening was relaxed and we talked about everything except the current drama; not because we were avoiding it, but because we were at ease with each other and the topic simply did not arise. Nor did I think about it all evening either.

We had risen late on Saturday morning and were sitting in dressing gowns at the table in the kitchen reading the papers when the doorbell went. I shuffled along the hallway to answer it and saw from the shadow it was Greta. When I opened the door she walked past me into the hall, carrying two suitcases. She put them down, turned and hugged me.

"Dad," she said anxiously searching my face, "can I stay here? I can't take any more of that house,"

"Well, you seem to have expected the answer yes!" I smiled, nodded at the luggage and shook my head, "You can stay today and tonight and we'll talk about a more permanent arrangement. Does Mum know where you are?"

"No. I left a note in my room that I'd left home because I couldn't stand living with him any longer."

"We need to tell her: she'll be worried about you."

She nodded and walked through to the kitchen, where she stopped dead in the doorway. I heard Jenny speak. That woman was phased by nothing and no one.

"Hi, Greta," she said.

"Oh... Hi," Greta said, her voice full of questions.

"You know where everything is," Jenny continued. "I'll go and get dressed."

She came into the hallway with a frown on her face.

"Get out of that one!" she muttered as she passed me and climbed the stairs. I couldn't tell her mood.

I went to the kitchen.

Greta was sitting at the table, a glass of milk in front of her.

"What's going on Dad?" The accusation was obvious. "What's she doing here?"

"'She' is called Jenny," I retorted with an edge, "and what she's doing is no concern of yours."

"But you're with Trish. I can't believe you're two timing her with that!"

"Greta, I will not have you insulting my friends. If you can't stand Jenny, go back home to your mother. Go on! Off you go!"

"But Dad--"

"I mean it Greta. Go home. Your mother began living with Derek because she didn't know the truth about me. She jumped to the wrong conclusion. Now you're doing the same. Go home."

She began to cry. I waited. I had a vivid memory of Greta as a twelve year old using the same technique when she couldn't get her own way, but this was different. I was not going to back down.

At length I couldn't stand it any longer and picked up the phone. I dialled Trish's number. She answered, sounding flustered; she was obviously in the middle of packing.

"Trish," I said, "Sorry to interrupt your packing, but would you talk to Greta, she has something to tell you."

"OK darling, I need a break anyway."

Greta looked up at me, worried now, shaking her head.

"No, Greta, tell Trish what's going on here."

She reluctantly took the phone.

"Trish?" she began hesitantly, "did you know that Dad is having an affair with Jenny?"

"...I don't understand."

"...But how can you stand--"

"...When?" There was a long pause as Trish spoke at length.

"...But two of you, at once?"

"...Oh. Thanks. Will we see you before you go?"

"...OK, thanks, Bye."

She looked at me, penitence written all over her face.

"Sorry Dad. I didn't know."

"No, Greta, you didn't. I happen to know two very loving and caring women. Trish told you she was emigrating on Friday?"

"Yes," she answered pensively, "she said you were entitled to a friend now she was going. She said she was happy you were with Jenny. She likes her."

"Jenny likes her as well," I laughed. "They team up against me when they're together."

"You don't...?"

"No, Greta. No threesomes."

She blushed.

Jenny appeared, fully dressed. I knew she'd been hovering in the hall, listening.

Greta looked up guiltily.

"I'm sorry, Jenny. I jumped to conclusions."

"Come here," said Jenny and hugged the girl. "We all love your Dad. There's a lot you don't know but he's been very good to me. You could say he's changed my life."

Greta nodded and turned to me.

"Can I stay, Dad? I promise I won't get in the way!" She smirked; the old Greta was back.

"Yes, of course," I replied, "but we must tell your mother where you are. She's got enough trouble at the moment, what with cancelling the wedding and what I assume would follow with Derek. The last thing she needs is her daughter disappearing."

I found I didn't know her home number, but Greta gave it me and I dialled.

Derek answered.

"Derek, It's Allan. I need to talk to Ann about--"

"Not interested," he snapped. "You've done enough damage, she belongs to me now, not you; just butt out," and he crashed the phone down.

I sighed.

"Greta," I said, resignedly. "Can you get Mum on her mobile. Derek isn't allowing me to speak to her."

Greta's lip curled. She tapped in the number, and gave me the phone.

Ann answered.

"Greta? Where are you? What's happening?"

She was panicking.

"Ann," I said, "it's Allan, don't worry, Greta is here with me. I tried to get you on the house phone but Derek wouldn't let me speak to you. I just want to put your mind at rest. She's safe here, and wants to stay the night. Is that all right?"

"Oh, it's you," Ann said in a dead voice. "Yes, I suppose she can stay. You going to poison her mind against me?"

"Ann please, don't start thinking like that. You know I wouldn't do that; we've always been a team when dealing with the children."

"Sorry," she said. "Yes, I know. I've no right to think ill of you after what I've done."

"No, Ann," I hastened to put her right. "I'm sorry for snapping at you when we met. You can understand I'm very emotional about what has happened. You were shocked and it was wrong of me. Forgive me?"

"Yes, of course," she sounded brighter. "We'll need to meet to talk about sharing access, but Greta can stay as long as you both want. She's having a hard time coping with Derek. You heard I cancelled the wedding? You can guess things are not comfortable here at present."

"I understand, I'll send her back soon. I think you need her at the moment."

We said farewells and disconnected and I felt better for our constructive dialogue. Greta was shaking her head, but we had things to discuss, and I thought that by the time we finished she would agree to go home.

------

TWENTY-SEVEN

We sat in the living room on that Saturday evening after the inevitable walk in the sunny afternoon, the purpose of which in my mind was to build a relationship between Jenny and Greta. I have to say it was very successful; they were close buddies by the time we got home. I began to feel outnumbered once more and I was grateful for that.

I had decided it was time to clarify what Greta might be suspecting. Then the phone rang and it was Colin.

"Allan," he said, "Can I rely on your complete silence on what I'm going to say? I mean complete, I'll lose my job and my pension if this gets out."