Chapter 2

Beth was sitting at the kitchen table as I came through the garden door. I had laid the table for her favourite breakfast, pain-au-chocolat with hot chocolate to drink, a feast of chocolate. I had been out in the garden looking for some flowers to put on the table, and had struck lucky. The rose bush that her parents had given us for our wedding anniversary in the first year we lived in this house was covered in blooms. I had picked a single rose on a long stem.

She had her back to me as I came in, but she looked round as she heard the door. "I wondered where you were."

"Look what I found. That rose is covered in blooms at the moment." I offered her the single bloom as a loving gift. "Don't you think that's significant.?"

"What is?" she asked as she held the rose to her face and sniffed its scent.

"Don't you remember? That's the rose that your parents gave us on the first wedding anniversary that we were here. The next year it had a couple of flowers on it, then every year it has grown and bloomed more. This year it's covered. Don't you think that's significant? It must mean something."

"It means that you're a silly romantic and that roses like the soil here."

"Maybe I am, but I've every right to be so." I knelt on the floor in front of her. "I have the most wonderful wife. I wanted to say sorry for my foolishness last night and tell you that I love you very much. You are the very centre of my being. I hope you know that. I do love you Beth, and I don't really doubt you, I don't know what got into me yesterday. I guess it was several pints of beer, but I shouldn't have said what I did. I'm sorry."

She leant forward and kissed me on the cheek. "You're forgiven."

"No, I want to say sorry more than that. I do trust you, you know. Do you remember that Adam incident when we lived in London. I trusted you then. You were the one that told me that you had a bloke at work who was getting a bit silly about you. I know you'd talk to me if, heaven forbid, you did find that you were unhappy or vulnerable to some man. I know you wouldn't go off and have an affair."

She looked up with a distant look in her eye, "Yes. I'd forgotten Adam. He took a lot of talking to at that company barbeque. Do you remember?"

"When he tried to talk to you alone, offering to get you drinks or food from the barbie? And he did it all right in front of me. His intent was pretty obvious. Didn't he know that I was your husband?"

"I don't think he cared. But it was because you were there that I put him down so firmly."

"You were pretty cruel. Why do you think I sent you to go and talk to him? To at least rebuild his ego at little bit. I have a confession to make about that."

"What?" she asked, looking interested.

"Well, I said you should go and let him down a bit better than you did. Leave the poor guy some ego. Do you remember? And you went off to find him. After about quarter of an hour I began to get a bit worried, and I went looking for you. I found you just talking to him on a seat right at the end of the garden, hidden from everyone else. I crept away leaving you to it."

"I knew you were there. Your reflection was in the window of that garden shed."

"And neither of us said anything. I guess there was no need. What I wanted to say is that I do trust you. Even with the Adam's of this world. You talked to me about him and I know you would talk to me about anything. I love you Beth Williams."

"And I love you, Tim Williams."

We kissed and then just held each other.

"You would tell me if anything worried you, wouldn't you Beth?" I don't know why I returned to the subject, I guess I just wanted to make sure that she did know that she could talk about anything.

"Yes. Of course."

"I remember when Paul was killed. You put up with me going on and on about Paul, day after day for weeks, until I had got all my feelings straight in my head. I was so grateful to you for that. You were wonderful. I think that's part of the reason I love and respect you more now than when we got married."

"Well he was far too young to die, and I knew it was a terrible time for you. I remember feeling so useless. You were so upset, and there was nothing I could do except let you talk."

I gave her another hug and squeeze. Then I had other ideas. "You haven't got anything on under that robe. You don't fancy a quickie on the kitchen table do you.?"

"Down boy. You'd be late for work." She smiled at me.

"Yes, your right. Anyway, I want to save you until after a dinner at The Lobster Pot tonight."

"For a dinner at The Lobster Pot you can have me before and after, and possibly during." She sat back and looked at me. "Anyway, The Lobster Pot is a bit much. I've already accepted your apology."

"Well I've got something else to say. To show how much I love you and trust you."

"Ooh! What?"

"You'll have to wait." I leant in again to give her one last kiss and hug.

From inside my hug I heard her hesitantly and quietly "You know I do get some things a bit muddled sometimes. But I do know that I love you so much, Tim..."

Then the doorbell went.

I stood up. "Who the hell is that? At this time of the morning!"

I went to the hall, and approaching the front door I could see Jean's auburn hair through the hazy glass of the door. Oh my God. Jean! I had forgotten my phone call. What chaos and damage had I caused in their house. How do you say sorry to a neighbour for causing a real argument between a husband and wife? I opened the door.

"I'm sorry Jean..."

"Yes I guess it isn't a good time in here any more than in my house." She said as she walked in, straight passed me. She could see Beth in the kitchen, through the open door.

Beth looked at her, down the hall, and said "Hi!"

So Jean went forward into the kitchen, and that's where she continued "I don't know what you two are going to do, but I thought you ought to know that Ken has admitted to it going on for three months. I don't know what she's told you, Tim. Anyway, we will be selling the house. For me it's the end."

The world went into slow motion. Three months!? Three months!? THREE MONTHS!?

Somewhere I heard Jean continuing, but I didn't really hear what she was saying. It was something to do with her having all the money, and that she was sending Ken to Spain for two months. I didn't really understand. I was watching Beth. She was getting smaller and more curled up on her chair as I watched her. She was white.

Jean was walking out again. I followed her. I was on autopilot, and I was seeing her to the door. That's what you did with visitors when they were leaving. I began to hear her again. "... they were both adults, they both knew what they were doing. But I'd like to bet that Ken was the one that started it. He can't resist trying it on as soon as he sees a pretty face."

By then she was standing in our porch and she turned to talk to me, "I'm so sorry Tim. I thought you and Beth were the perfect couple, I thought you'd be immune from Ken even if he did try something. I'm going to drive up to London. I'm taking Ken to Heathrow to make sure he gets a plane to Spain. He would have had to go there very soon anyway, we've got builders in on the villa, so he might as well be useful and oversee that before I get rid of him. You needn't worry, he won't come back. He'll be desperate trying to either placate me, or at least get himself a good settlement. I won't be back for a couple of weeks. Then I'll come down to start clearing up and put the house on the market. I'll give you a call then. Don't worry Tim. I promise you it will get better, whatever you do."

She just left, walking down our drive. The bearer of bad news. Shouldn't I kill her or something? I turned back to the kitchen. I felt totally icy. I knew that I used to have a heart. Now I had just a block of ice in that body cavity.

And I was angry. Coldly. Deliberately. Angry.

Beth watched me as I came into the kitchen. She looked frightened, but maybe she had every right to, I couldn't see me, but I bet I looked exactly as I felt. "I'm sorry... I can explain... I was going to tell you... I'm so sorry..."

"You can explain! There is no possible explanation. Three months? Three bloody months of lying and cheating?"

She started to cry and she curled up onto her lap. All I could hear were sobs. Sobs and the occasional "I'm sorry"

"Three months?" my voice was raising

"I'm sorry... you've got to forgive me..." she sobbed.

"THREE MONTHS?" I shouted, slamming my hand onto the table and jangling the crockery. I leant right across so that my face was almost her side of the table. "Answer me. Have you been having an affair with Ken for three months?"

"I'm sorry. I should have stopped it. I should have talked to you before it started. You've got to believe me. I'm sorry..."

"I'll ask once more. If you don't answer then I'm walking out. And I won't be back... ever! HAVE YOU BEEN HAVING AN AFFAIR WITH KEN FOR THREE MONTHS?"

She looked up at me and whispered "Yes."

"Pardon? I didn't hear that." I sat down, heavily in my chair. I don't think my legs would let me stand any longer. It was my turn to crumple into a heap.

Beth slid out of her chair and came to kneel at my feet, "Yes... I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I do love you Tim. Please don't leave me. Last night I decided to finish it. I was about to start telling you when Jean arrived. I'm sorry. You've got to believe me..."

I looked up at her. The ice had taken control again. "I'm going to work now. I don't want you here when I get home. Let me know where you've gone, or I'll contact you through your parents. There is nothing else to say. Goodbye Beth."

"No! No! You can't. I love you. We can work it out. Please... Tim... Please... I'm your wife..."

"No you're not. Not any more. You are just a - cheating - lying - slut that used to be my wife, in the days when you were decent and worth loving." I got up and just walked out, slamming the kitchen door behind me.

As I walked the short length of the hall I heard a bestial scream from the kitchen. It was a howl of a wounded, once proud animal. I slammed the front door behind me.

I got to the drive and only then realised that I hadn't got my suit jacket. There was no way that I was going back, so I'll live without it. I'm pretty sure there are no formal meetings. Then there was no car where it should have been. Oh bugger, it's at work. Well, maybe that's for the best. I'll have to walk, and that way I can calm down. I've got to learn to work whilst I'm a bachelor again.

I don't remember much of that long walk into town. I just felt things, I didn't think. I know I wanted myself to cry, I tried to blubber up some tears but they didn't come. I wanted them so badly, I thought they would give me the release from the pressure. Tears would stop my head exploding. But they wouldn't come. And my head didn't explode.

As I came through the office reception I noticed that there was no receptionist on duty, just the security guard. I had lost all track of time. I looked at the wall clock, it was twenty to nine, and the receptionist didn't start until nine o'clock. After all that had happened, I was officially early, but late for me. I liked to be there by half past eight normally.

I sat at my desk and booted up my computer. I picked up my phone and hit the button for my voice mail. "You have... 3... messages" said Mrs Metallica. I hit the button again. It was a client wanting me to call back. It didn't sound urgent. I hit the button. It was a Greg Dickens (or Dickers?) of ITP wanting lunch with me. What was that about? Don't tell me that after months of keeping Perry off my best guys, he was going to draft me onto that bloody ITP project. Maybe that's what yesterday's lunch was meant to be about. Odd! But not a lot I can do about it until Perry comes in. I hit the button. It was sobbing and gasping. Beth, almost indecipherable in her words. I switched off. I didn't want to listen.

My email was just as mundane. Someone was trying to get a company cricket team together. I knew I should fancy that, but I didn't. Anyway how can I commit myself for a season when I don't know how I'm going to live until lunch time?

I sat back. Colleagues were drifting into to their work stations. Some said 'Hi' without even looking up from the desk or papers. I noticed that those I looked at and who looked at me didn't say a word. Obviously there was something written across my forehead that warned them off. Did it say Cuckold in bright red capital letters?

I tried to work, I wanted to bury myself in work problems. I was OK, or so I thought, in talking to people. I thought I was holding sensible business conversations. But I couldn't read a thing. Words were read, they just didn't make sense. Nothing stuck in my mind for the length of time between reading the beginning of a sentence and the end of that same sentence. I tried again and again and again in between visits to the coffee machine, to the loo (even when I didn't need to go), to the stationery cupboard although I had plenty of pens and paper. Anything to avoid real work.

It was no good. I had to tell someone. Friend or manager? That was the question. I couldn't face telling a friend, they would ask questions, they might show patronising sympathy, and I couldn't stand that. I know I would have to face it all sometime. But not yet. Not now. So that left Manager. That seemed fair. I obviously wasn't going to work well today, and maybe never again. I owed it to them to put them in the picture.

Perry's office was empty. Stella saw me looking and simply said "He isn't in yet."

No Perry, so who? Charlie Bullard, the Personnel Director? Actually that could be a good choice. Charlie was a founder of the company with Neil Timmons, the CEO. Apparently there had been a third guy, but he dropped out (or was pushed out) early on. The early success was always attributed to Neil's great sales ability. I always thought that Charlie had a lot to do with it. He created the company culture that delivered success. He was the one that cared about people, and they were the company's only true assets. He was also a nice guy, in his late fifties, but he had a rapport with everyone, whatever their age, whatever their status.

When I got to Charlie's office he wasn't there, but his assistant suggested that I could wait in his office. So I sat in the visitor's chair at his desk for nearly twenty minutes. She offered me a cup of coffee, which I declined, I'd drunk enough coffee already, trying to avoid work. Eventually Charlie turned up.

"Tim, good to see you. I hope you haven't been waiting long."

"No, I wanted a word and I simply waited for you."

"Yes, sorry. Neil's had me in there for ages. Anyway what's this about? You don't stand an earthly of being allowed to recruit at the moment, so if its that, then let's not waste time."

"No, its personal."

"Well, in that case, let's have a cup of coffee. How do you take it."

There was no option, and anyway, having a coffee with Charlie seemed friendly, less formal, even if I had turned one down only a few minutes earlier. "White without, please."

Charlie put his head out of the office door and asked for two coffees. He came back to his desk, leaving the door wide open. He saw the look of concern on my face. "Let's wait for the coffee. Have you seen that they're trying to get a cricket team together. Apparently one of the banks' IT departments want to challenge us. You used to play a bit of cricket if I remember right?"

We made small talk about cricket until the coffee arrived, "Thanks" said Charlie, passing me a mug. "Could you close the door" he asked as the girl left. "Well? You look pretty uptight, so what is this all about?"

"About three hours ago I found out that my wife has been having a long affair. I've left her. I came into work, but I can't work and I think you should know." There I'd actually said it, my mouth did get round those dreadful words. And it felt better to find that I could say it. It was no longer a secret.

Charlie looked at me. He just watched me for what seemed like a very long time. Then he spoke. "I'm sorry, Tim. Of course you need the day off, you need the week off. That's not a problem. I'll tell Perry. Just go home."

"Oh God! No! I can't go home. I can't face her. I told her I want her out of the house before I get home this evening. I won't go home 'til I'm sure she's gone."

Again, Charlie paused. He leant forward across his desk. "You've got to face her sometime, Tim. You've got to talk to her."

"Yes, I know. But not yet. I'm so full of anger and hatred and wanting to hurt her. And I'm so empty of anything else. I can't talk to her yet. It would just be a slanging match, and I don't want my marriage to end on that."

"No. I see. Sure. OK, you shouldn't talk to her yet. Not until you're ready... and she is ready."

We both took a sip of our coffees. Then Charlie continued, "You know people do get over the most dreadful things in their marriages, and go on to happy life afterwards?"

"Some do, I know I won't. I don't see how there can be a way back from this. I want to find a little bachelor flat, sell the house and hope life brings something better next time. " I said.

"Well, wait and see. Don't do anything that you will regret later. And if it comes to divorce, then there can be a happy new life after that as well. I know because that's what happened to me. I promise you, either way its not as bad as you think it is now. I know, I've been there."

It was my turn just to look at him and wait. Charlie was the sort of man that is the stalwart of the middle classes and the community. His wife, Rose (I think I remembered her name) was of similar ilk. It was hard to imagine that their marriage was a late flowering love. I waited to see if he would tell me anymore. I wasn't that interested, but coffee and talking in this safe haven was better than being out there facing people.