The TGI Chronicles Part 2 Dave s StoryChapter 9
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The TGI Chronicles: Part 1 - Too LateChapter 8 free porn video
I took Rose's instructions seriously, even if Simon didn't. I slept well. In fact I was beginning to notice that my sleep was beginning to improve. I was still plagued by thoughts and images of all sorts crowding in on me when I first go to bed. But then I do fall asleep for a good six to seven hours. Never quite enough, but more than I was really expecting.
I woke on Sunday morning thinking about Rose's gently pushing of my thoughts and boundaries. Had I, by accident, trapped Beth so that she couldn't confess her affair, even if she had wanted to? But she had denied it, surely she wasn't going to confess it suddenly, late on that Thursday evening. And why had she told me that she wasn't having an affair as she kissed me as she came to bed that night. But then, to be accurate, she had said she will never have an affair. That was in the future tense. So, maybe, at least her declaration that it was over was a truth. Is there some comfort in that?
I got out of bed. The sun was coming through the curtains. I opened them to find a glorious English summer's day. But then I noticed the Whitman's pool with its bright blue cover shouting in the sunlight, almost as if it was laughing at me.
I went into the bathroom. The corner of the towel rail seemed to be spotlighted. That's where Beth's little g-string bikini had been hung. What was the truth about that?
I had a shower, dressed and went down to the kitchen. There was still a very dead rose, sadly drooping sideways out of its vase, ready to fall on a piece of lilac notepaper with Beth's writing on it. Somehow it seemed symbolic, but equally it told me that I just can't go on living here surrounded by reminders. I decided that I was moving to Blindside, preferably next weekend.
Over breakfast I thought about phoning Beth and telling her of my decision. Warning her, I guess of something that could be interpreted as another step along the road to divorce. But, I didn't really fancy that conversation. So I phoned Phil instead.
"Hi, Tim. How's you?"
"Fine, I think. Are you and Denny OK?"
"Well I am, and Denny was fine when I left her."
"Oh. Where are you?"
"Walking across the car park at the surgery. What do you want, Tim?"
"Well I was hoping for a drink later. This evening?"
"Not a chance. We're out. Is it anything important?"
"No, not really. It's just that I've decided to move into that flat, and I was hoping I might talk it through with you, and work out how to tell Beth."
"Sorry I can't help you. Is lunchtime any good?"
"No. I've got a lunch with Jean, the wife of the infamous Ken."
"Oh. That could be interesting." He paused "Is there anything she's likely to know or tell you that might help?"
I hadn't even thought that Jean might know something that could change my view of Beth's behaviour. "I don't think so. I think it's just the two injured parties licking their wounds together. Anyway, if I am going to move, I'd be grateful if I could borrow your muscle power."
"Yes, sure, but isn't it only a couple of suitcases of clothes?"
"No, I think I'll be taking more than that. One of the things I've got to do is get Beth down here to agree the dividing of the spoils. I doubt whether that's going to be easy for either of us."
"No, I can image that. Glad its you and not me, but I guess that goes for this whole sorry saga." He sounded both sad and consolatory.
"So, are you around next weekend if I hire a small van. It should only be a couple of trips at the most." I asked.
"Sorry, Tim. But not next weekend."
"What you haven't got a couple of hours to spare for the whole weekend?"
"Nope. On Saturday I've got to do the Saturday surgery. In their wisdom, two senior partners have decided that it's OK for them to have their holidays at the same time. So we're pretty stretched. I'm on call all day 'til eight o'clock on Sunday morning. After surgery, I've got half an hour to get to my match, and when that finishes, I can't go to the drinks because I'm on call, and anyway I've got to come back here to check up on all the resident patients."
"So what about Sunday then. Don't tell me your going to be busy all day."
"Alright, I won't tell you. But we've got to go to lunch with Beth's parents."
"Pardon?"
"That's what I said. Apparently Mary invited us. I don't think she's interfering, or at least Denny doesn't seem to think so. She just wants to get to see us, being as we're being such good friends of Beth's in these difficult times. Something like that."
"Well. I'll count you out then."
"Sorry Tim. How about doing it one night in the week?"
"Well, it might come to that. I'll have a phone round and see if someone can give me a hand at the weekend. If I can't find anyone, then I'll give you a call."
We ended there. I sat and stared out of the window. Come on Tim, be decisive! I phoned Beth.
"Hi" she answered, somewhat neutrally I thought.
"Hi, Beth. Are you OK?"
"Oh, yes. I just wasn't expecting a call from you. Not that I haven't wanted you to call, it was just that I wasn't expecting..."
"It's OK Beth. I just wanted to phone you and warn you that I've definitely made my mind up. I'm going to move out."
There was silence at the other end. I wished I could see her face.
Eventually, she answered. "Do you really feel you've got to."
"Yes. I'm sorry Beth, but I do. At first, when this option came up I liked the idea because I just wanted to run away. But it's not like that now. It's just that this house represents so much of what we used to have, what we achieved, and I am beginning to accept that we can never have it again. It just hurts me to live here."
"I'm sorry Tim."
"Yes, well..." I didn't know what to say. "Look, Beth. I do really want you to come over one evening this week so that you can see what I'm thinking of taking."
"Oh, Tim, I've no right to demand that you leave anything that you want. I don't need to do that. But I would like to see you, perhaps to talk about something else, anything that is safe territory."
"Well, there you are then. I can't do Monday or Tuesday, but any night after that." I pushed for agreement.
"Well how about Thursday then. I'll come over at eight o'clock. Perhaps I could bring something for us to eat?"
"Yes, why not. That would be good. I'll see you on Thursday then."
"Well, look after yourself. I'll look forward to Thursday." She was almost whispering, but plaintively.
"Do give some thought to what you want to keep, I don't want to take something that is important to you, Beth."
"Oh, its all important to me, Tim. But you can take whatever you want."
This conversation was drifting out of hand. I wasn't sure whether it was like a Noel Coward play, it was all going on under the actual words, or like a teenage lovers call, neither wanting to say goodbye. That would take someone more independent than me to decide. In the end, it was Beth that managed to bring the conversation to an end. It left me with a feeling of so much unsaid, so much sadness.
I got myself a coffee, pulled myself together and threw away that dead rose and the sheet of notepaper, but I noticed that I didn't crumple it up, I just laid it in the bin - just in case I wanted to retrieve it later. Symbolism.
I found Jean in the bar of the Carlton Hotel, she was sitting at a table in the corner by herself, with an untouched drink in front of her. I went over and kissed her on both cheeks, and sat down. We were just getting through the opening pleasantries when a waiter came over for my drinks order and to leave two menu's on the table in front of us.
"So, Tim, how have you really been?" She asked, implying that my earlier reply had been pure politeness, which it was.
"OK, I suppose. It all takes some getting used to. Beth is living with her parents, and I'm still at the house, but I've found a flat and I shall be moving there very soon."
"So you and Beth are splitting up then?"
"Yes. I can't see a way back. I assume you and Ken are going to divorce?" I asked, but immediately regretted it. That isn't the sort of question I should be asking, what if they were reconciled and happy. So I quickly added "From what you said that morning, I assume that's what you're doing."
"Yes, I'm putting everything in hand to get rid of the bastard. But I'll tell you about that later. I'm just so sorry that you and Beth are splitting up over this. You were the perfect couple and I hate to think that that little weasel has caused you all this pain. I should have chopped his balls off years ago. I suspect you're not the only husband who would have been protected"
The waiter brought me my gin and tonic and I took a leisurely sip. "One of the few things I clearly remember from that morning was you saying 'they're both adults'. It was as much her as him, I'm sure. He didn't rape her, or not serially anyway."
She looked at me. "Well Ken and myself haven't been happy for years, but I was quite jealous of what you and Beth had. I remember it made me cry for what I should have had once."
"Oh." I'm not sure what I was meant to say to that, so I asked the simple question "When was that then?"
"Oh, a couple of years ago now, not long after we moved in. I got back late one Friday with a large brief to read. So, after breakfast on the Saturday I thought the best thing to do was get it over and done with. I set up a chair in the garden, right next to the hedge to your place, and settled down to read. Then you and Beth came out and were wandering around, planning on how you were going to lay out your garden."
She stopped for a sip of her drink, so I interjected, "We had lots of those sessions. Planning the garden was one of the hardest bits. Certainly harder than actually doing it."
"Well," she continued "I just sat there listening to you two. And you had such a loving way of talking to each other. I guess my job makes me listen to witnesses, picking up nuances and use of words, but you two were so gentle with each other. One of you would tentatively put forward an idea, the other would quietly disregard it if they didn't like it or add something extra to it if they did, and then feed it back. It was a ballet of gentle words. It made me weep, because I don't think I ever got to that level of relationship with Ken, and I certainly wasn't going to then. It was something I was never going to have, that sort of complete relationship. And that made me sad then and it still does. But now it's worse, because it's all spoilt for you as well."
She looked up at me with wet eyes. Then she took a little lace handkerchief out of her handbag and dabbed the corner of her eyes. There was nothing I could say.
So a change of subject seemed a good idea. I picked up the menu and studied it, before announcing I was going for the traditional Sunday roast, carved from the trolley. Jean said that she thought that was a good idea. She signalled to the waiter and then gave her order, and ordering wine without even looking at the wine list, just a simple "And a bottle of your very best claret."
We didn't talk about personal issues again until we were sitting down with our roast beef in front of us. When Jean said, "Let me tell you about myself and Ken."
"Go on." I encouraged.
"Well, we've been married for twenty two years. To start with it was a good, not wonderful, but we were both very ambitious and we supported each other well. I think both of us were happy. I'm sure Ken played around a bit in those days, but he always came home and I managed to ignore it. I blocked it out. That was Ken, he liked to think of himself as God's gift to women, it was his little ego trip. I did quite well in my job, despite taking time out to have the boys. Ken was doing very well at the same time, although I always, year in year out, earned more than he did. But some years, only just. Ken did very well, he was in charge of the air fuels division of Masham Oils and on their main board. But, about ten years ago, there was an attempted takeover, and there had to be economies and Ken was an economy."
"I didn't realise that he had held such a senior executive position." I said.
"I'm surprised he didn't tell you. He told most people at the first possible opportunity."
"No, he was more noted for telling them about his Bentley."
"Ah, Yes! His Bentley." she paused, looking into space, but then continued, "Well, after that, he tried to set himself up as a consultant to the airlines, but it never took off, if that isn't a pun for that particular business. Most years it cost money, and my career and earnings were going from strength to strength. Despite all his talk, Ken was a kept man, and had been for the last ten years."
"Good heavens. I would never have guessed." I was genuinely surprised.
"Well, I didn't say anything, and Ken seemed to need the ego boost of being seen as a success. That's his weakness, he likes nice clothes, nice cars and a very expensive lifestyle."
"So what happened that ended you up where you are now?"
"Well, maybe it was his ego, maybe he did really love her, I don't know. But about eight years ago Ken had an affair, with a woman who worked for one of the airlines. When I found out, I threw him out. I was going to get a divorce. But he was so repentant, and the boys were eight and ten and they needed their father. So like a fool, I took him back."
"So that's why you weren't surprised that he'd done it again." I observed, as I added some horseradish sauce to my mouthful of beef.
"Oh, it's worse than that. About five years ago he had another affair. I had suspected him of having plenty of dalliances in between, but this one was so blatant. It was a neighbour, and their au-pair knew all about it. That's why we bought the house here, to get him away from her and London."
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