Chapter 1

Quite a few people have had it happen to them at one time or another in their lives. They made a small change of their plans and that has led in a very few days to their lives being turned completely upside down. Of course, we don't realise what the consequences are going to be when these kind of decisions are made. It is only later that we come to understand the significance of our decisions.

In my particular case, it was the decision to look up an old school friend. I was about to go on one of my very rare trips up country for my employers to Darlington, of all places.

I just happened to mention the fact in the pub one night that I was doomed to spend the following week in the exciting fleshpots of Darlington.

Hey, Darlington is probably a really nice town, if you know it. But, when you're dropped into these places unexpectedly it can take a week or so to find out where the decent nightlife is, by which time I'd be long gone.

Anyway Tony, one of my long time friends from way back when we'd been at school together, told me that another of our old school crowd, George Diamond, was living in Darlington and suggested that I look up him and Rosy, his wife.

Ah, now, Rosy, that was one name that brought back some really happy memories for me. Rosy Thompson as she was back then; I definitely remembered her from school. The girl who was most likely to, or more like the girl who quite definitely would. Christ, I think she took most of the guys' cherries, but unfortunately not mine. I'd been a very early starter in that game. Anyway, I'd had more than a few enjoyable afternoons in Rosy's company when we'd bunked off school together.

Poor old George had drawn the short straw on that one though. He'd put Rosy in the club. Well, let's be honest here: George was the poor bugger who had taken the fall for it anyway. He had finished up doing the manly thing and marrying our Rosy. Yep, that's what men did in those days; you stood by your responsibilities. Still from what I'd heard, they were very happy together and Rosy's wandering ways were all in the far distant past.

Tony, who had apparently kept in touch with George and Rosy, said that they had had at least half a dozen children. Not surprising to me, knowing Rosy's love of procreation like I did. Well, I don't think she was ever that keen on the idea of actually having kids. But she sure did like the preliminaries.

Apparently, they had moved up to Darlington shortly after they got married, when George had been offered a good job up there. That is probably why I didn't remember seeing them for years.

"What harm could it do to meet up with a couple of old school friends," I thought. No, I wasn't thinking I might get lucky with Rosy again; I was a happily married man. So a week or so before I left for my trip, I gave them a call to let them know I was coming. It was then that I made what was to prove to be an eye opening but ultimately disastrous decision; George and Rosy insisted that I stay with them whilst I was in town and I acquiesced.

On my arrival at their house, I realised that I had made a mistake. Both the once gorgeous Rosy, and George had turned into a couple of real barrels, about as wide as they were tall. Yeah, they were pleasant enough, but they were so damned boring. Christ, their life seemed to revolve around their kids, the church and bloody bingo.

Mind, Rosy was one great cook. I was damned glad I was only staying for five days; as it was, I must have put on quite a few pounds that week.

Anyway, we spent a few evenings talking about old times. I was surprised at the long list of guys that Rosy asked me if I knew what had happened to. I know that if I had been George, I would have gotten at least a little annoyed. Because I knew that most of the list were guys who had sampled Rosy's charms at one time or another. But George didn't appear to bat an eyelid.

It was on the Thursday evening that my life started to turn to shit. When Rosy wasn't asking me about what I knew about this guy or that, the pair of them had spent most of the time telling me about their kids, of whom they were very proud. It was on that Thursday evening just about the worst fate that can befall a houseguest befell me. About eight o'clock just after Rosy put the twins to bed, George got out the bloody projector and spent the whole evening showing me his old home movies of their kids.

I think I was in that daze we all fall into after watching someone else's home-movies for several hours. I was acting my heart out trying to at least look and sound vaguely interested, whilst George and Rosy told tales of holidays long past. Mind you, in some of the older films when Rosy still had her figure, shit, she looked good in those tiny bikinis she wore back then. I quietly attacked the bottle of Rum I had purchased that day to dull the senses.

But then it happened. A scene came on the screen that made me sit up and take notice. George and Rosy both noticed my sudden interest, as I nearly jumped out of my seat.

"What's up, Pete," Rosy asked, "Have you seen someone you recognise?"

I bleeding-well sure had. "George, can you run the film back a bit?" I asked in a panic-struck voice.

George stopped the film and then ran it back until I asked him to stop. "Exactly when did you say this film was taken?" I enquired.

"Ten years ago in Bournemouth," George replied, "Why, do you recognise someone?"

"Yeah, that couple in the back ground; the woman with the blond hair looks pretty familiar?" One hell of an understatement; that woman was Leanne, my bloody wife. But I wasn't about to tell George and Rosy that.

"Oh, those two," Rosy commented, "they were a really nice couple. Americans, weren't they, George? Well, at least I think he was; she didn't say very much to anyone, did she, George? They were a real love struck pair hanging all over each other all the time. Hey, George aren't there some more shots of them at the party night? Now that did get interesting."

As usual Rosy didn't give George a chance to get a word in edgeways. I had gathered that that was how conversations with these two normally went. George ran the film on for a few minutes; the picture changed from the hotel's swimming pool area to what was obviously the ballroom. The same couple appeared in the background again; only this time they were dancing. But slowly the film began to concentrate more on them as they got a little - well, putting it politely - amorous on the dance floor. I was by then having a little trouble breathing.

"It ain't every day you see folks behaving like that in a Bournemouth hotel," George laughingly commented, "I just had to get it on film."

"He's a real pervert sometimes," Rosy cut in. "You wait until we get to the videos George took out in Spain. You've never seen so many tiny bikinis in your life. I think George paid the kids to stand near the girls wearing the smallest ones, just so that he would have an excuse to film them."

I'm afraid I wasn't really listening to Rosy, as I watched my wife doing just about everything except fuck the guy on the dance floor and his hands were everywhere they shouldn't be in a public place.

I thought back. George had said that this particular film had been taken about ten years before. It was ten years ago that my company had sent me out to India where they were setting up a new manufacturing plant.

I had been away for nearly seven weeks that summer and during that time Leanne's parents had taken the children away with them on holiday for a fortnight. I remembered that there were a few days when the home phone was apparently out of order. Leanne was forced to call me out in Mumbai from a public phone, because I couldn't get through to her at the house.

"Pete? Pete, are you alright?" Rosy said, "You've gone a funny colour."

"That woman - can you remember her name?" I asked.

"No, sorry I can't. Can you remember, George? You spoke to them a few times."

"I think his name was Clayton or something like that. No, hang on it was Clinton; you know, like Clint Eastwood. But I don't recall what her name was. Funny that, what with them being just married and everything. I don't recall him ever mentioning her name. I never spoke to them when she was around; they were too busy if you get the idea. You know what it's like, they were obviously just married and on their honeymoon.

"One sexy little bitch, isn't she? I bet she nearly killed him in bed at night; she really did get turned on. To be honest, it was getting a bit embarrassing until the hotel manager asked them to cool it down a little."

It was no good. I had to tell them. "Sexy she sure is. But there's the problem. She's my bloody wife!"

"Oh, shit!" George said.

"Oh, bugger! It can't be," Rosy exclaimed.

George and Rosy used different expletives.

Neither George nor Rosy had ever met Leanne, I had lost track of them once they had got married and that had been well before I met up with Leanne.

"Sorry, George, but I'm going to have to ask you for a copy of that film."

They had both realised the implication and I think they were a little lost as to what to say to me.

"Oh, damn, I am sorry, Pete. Of course, I'll run you off a copy on a CD. I had them transferred to the computer last year. Personally we think the atmosphere is better when you see them on the big screen, but I suspect before long everything will be on CD's or these new DVD things they are bringing out."

Well, that was all there was to it. George ran me off a copy. I didn't sleep well that night and I left for home as soon as I finished work on the Friday evening. I had planned to travel home on the Saturday but I wasn't in any mood to sleep that night.

I arrived home at some unearthly hour on the Saturday morning, after a long slow drive back down to the West Country. My nerves were completely shot; I had no intention of killing myself on the way and I crashed out on the sofa.

Some hours later I was awakened by the sound of Leanne's voice.

"Crikey, Pete! You scared the life out of me. I didn't expect to find you lying there. When did you get home? Why didn't you call last night and what are you doing sleeping on the sofa?" Leanne demanded when she discovered me lying there in the morning.

"It must have been about half past two," I replied, ignoring her other questions.

"Why didn't you come up to bed? I've missed having you to cuddle up too."

I couldn't see much point in beating around the bush, as inside I was hopping mad and only just managing to keep my temper under control. So I dived straight in.

"Is that a fact? Are you sure you haven't got anyone else you'd rather cuddle up to?" That took Leanne completely by surprise, but I figured that I had some more surprises in store for her.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

"Just what I said. Haven't you got some stud or the other that you'd rather be with?"

"Are you feeling alright? You're not making any sense."

I could see that Leanne was beginning to get more than a little annoyed with me; but she could never be as angry, as I was with her. I slowly got off of the sofa and walked over to our home computer that I had turned on when I'd arrived. At a touch on the mouse the monitor flashed back into life.

"Leanne, remember when my firm sent me to India all those years ago, to help set up that new factory out there?

"Yes, you were gone over six weeks; they promised that would be the last time they would send you abroad."

"And whilst I was gone your parents took the children away on a holiday for a couple of weeks, didn't they?"

"Yes, but why bring that up now?"

"What did you do whilst they were away, Leanne?"

I've got to admit she was good; there wasn't any sign that I could discern that she had anything to hide.

"Nothing much really, except I redecorated James's bedroom."

"You didn't go off yourself for a couple of days?"

"Of course not! Why do you ask? What's this third degree all about?"

I clicked the start button on media player. Leanne looked at the computer screen with a blank expression on her face.

"Tell me, Leanne, who's that guy you're sitting with by that swimming pool?"

What I can only call a look of surprised curiosity came on Leanne's face; that then changed to what I took to be a look of bewilderment as she realised what she was watching.

"What the hell is that? Where did you get it? That isn't me!"

After that we watched in silence until the film switched to the ballroom. It could be that the first little seeds of doubt were planted in my mind at this time. Her reaction was perfect for someone who hadn't the foggiest idea what was going on. But I had to take into account that Leanne has always been a very good actress. Hey, she was a member of the local dramatic society after all. So I took her reaction with a pinch of salt.

"Well, that sure looks like you to me!"

Leanne's face turned bright red as she watched the behaviour of the two of them on the dance floor.

"God, Peter, I could never behave like that in public."

"Well, if it isn't you, who the hell is it?"

Leanne was staring closely at the screen now.

"I haven't got the faintest idea. But it certainly isn't me! She does look like me, I'll give you that, but I can promise you it definitely isn't me!"

"So you've got a twin out there that you didn't know about?"

"It appears I must have, Peter. But I swear to you, that isn't me."

Well, the "it must be" and "it definitely isn't" argument went on for the next half-hour or so, until our son James surfaced for the day. Then Leanne and I held our peace for the rest of the morning, until he went out to meet his girlfriend.

"Peter, you've got to believe me that isn't me on that film," Leanne said the moment the door closed. "I've been thinking. Jean next door will tell you that I wasn't away from the house for more than a couple of hours at a time, all of the time you were in India. You know that I would have had to ask her to come in and feed the cats if I'd gone away for even one night."

Having said that, Leanne turned and went out of the back door. I sat in the kitchen trying to work out whether I was wrong in my first assumption, that it had been Leanne in Bournemouth with that guy.

Leanne returned about ten minutes later with Jean in tow.

"Tell him, Jean. Tell Pete that I was home all the time he was away in India."

"That's right, Peter. I saw Leanne everyday whilst you were out in India. It was a long time ago, but if you remember Leanne and I used to have coffee together every morning back then. We did every morning until Leanne started back to work again," Jean added.

Well, really, that was the end of the discussion on the subject. I had Leanne swearing that the woman on the film wasn't her and Jean assuring me that Leanne hadn't been away from the house for more than a couple of hours at a time.

I'm not sure now how much I really swallowed the story, but I had no reason that I could think of to suspect Jean would lie to me. Although I think I would have been more convinced if it hadn't taken Leanne ten minutes to come back with Jean. Ten minutes is plenty of time for them to get the story worked out.

That night, against my better judgement and with a lot of willpower on my part, Leanne and I made love. But as I lay awake in bed afterwards - I found my mind wouldn't let me sleep - things kept going around in my head. Jean was Leanne's best friend. Could I really trust her to tell me the truth?

In the following weeks I'm not sure what happened really. My trust in Leanne had evaporated and I found myself spying on my wife. Searching her cupboards when she wasn't around. Hunting out her old diaries, looking for something, anything. But I found nothing. If she was home from work just a little late I was asking awkward questions.

The closeness that I had always felt for her in the past had suddenly gone, just evaporated. I loved her, but in my heart I felt I couldn't trust her. Things came to a head one-day when I was going through my computer CD's looking for some old files. I suddenly realised the CD that George had given me wasn't there anymore.

"Leanne, have you seen that CD that George made for me. The one with the woman I thought was you on it?"

"I put it through the shredder."

"What the hell made you do that?"

"Because it was disgusting. It upset me having it in the house."

Leanne's destroying of that CD got me thinking again. The woman certainly looked like Leanne. But there was a question I hadn't really asked myself: who was the man? To Leanne's horror I had shown the video to a couple of our friends and we'd had a good laugh over it. But they had all noted the remarkable resemblance the woman bore to Leanne.

I'm afraid my anger or distrust got the better of me.

"Why was that, Leanne," I asked. "Were you worried that if too many people saw that bit of film, in the end somebody was bound to recognise the guy or have seen him around somewhere local?"

I don't know why I said that, but it was to turn out to be the question that brought our marriage to an end. Leanne went ape-shit at me. The row between us that followed was loud enough for the neighbours to get worried enough to call the police. Later that evening after the police left, I packed up some of my things and moved out of the house.

The following Monday morning found the two of us in our solicitor's office. Leanne apologised for losing her temper and asked me to return home but I told her I couldn't see anyway that we could put things back together. I was convinced that it was her in George's movie.

The divorce went off surprisingly amicably really. I found myself a flat in town and would see James several times most weeks. My daughter, Ashley, was away at nursing college and the oldest one, Jeanette, was away at University so it made little difference to them. I went to all James' school events, probably more than I had done before the divorce.

To start with, Leanne and I were extremely civil and polite to each other when we met, even if our meetings were a little strained. Leanne kept sending me little notes through James, asking me to reconsider things. Ashley, when she was home, kept telling me that her mother cried a lot. That didn't do much for my well being as I was... well, not exactly crying myself to sleep at night... but not far off it. If I'm honest, quite a lot of the time I felt like a real heel.

I know I was drinking far too much, and that resulted in my boss having a long hard talk with me about it. So I was forced to take stock and pull myself together a bit. I thought about taking the pledge. I didn't swear off drink completely, but I cut down a hell of a lot on my consumption.

Then one evening when I picked James up from his after school football practice, he told me that his mother had been out on a date with some guy the night before. The little notes had stopped a few weeks previous, so I figured that Leanne had resorted to trying to make me jealous. Why else would she tell James she was out with another guy?

I'm afraid it worked; I did get jealous and that I couldn't stomach. So I think more as a kind of retaliation than anything else, I tried the dating game myself. You know it was just a reprisal thing. I'll be honest with you; my heart wasn't really in it. I had to persist though, as I wasn't going to let Leanne get one up on me, again!

As time went on Leanne and I were getting less tolerant of each other. And that led to all out guerrilla war breaking out between us. Unfortunately the kids were playing piggy in the middle in that little game. I was making sure they knew about the girls I was taking out (including quite a few fictitious ones, I'll add) and Leanne made sure they told me about every time she went out with a guy.

What was even more frustrating for me was the fact that Leanne was being quite devious about things. Apparently, she never let her men friends come to the house to collect her. I figured that was because James might recognise some of them, if they were any of my friends. Which I suspected some of them were.

Of course I asked all the single guys I knew, but they all denied taking Leanne out. Oh, yeah, and I believed them? I'd seen the way they had looked at Leanne over the years. Anyway in the process, I think I lost quite a few of them as friends.

My problem was that I couldn't live with Leanne, because I felt I couldn't trust her. But I still loved her, and now found I was having extreme difficulty living without her.

It was a year after the divorce and I was in such a state that I had already been passed over for one promotion at work that should have been mine. In fact I think I was really on my way out of my job completely; I know that the quality of my work had fallen off a lot.

My boss called me into her office one day and asked me if I would do a six-month stint at our Birmingham office. Apparently, one of the managers up there was going on maternity leave and they wanted me to run her department whilst she was away.

Now this wasn't really an offer, it was as near to an order as you can get. It was made clear to me that if I didn't take the placement, I would probably find I was out of a job before too long.

If I took the placement, I think my boss thought I would have to either get my act together or get myself fired by the Birmingham office. Whichever happened, it took the problem of me off of her hands. I can't blame her; she had been very tolerant of my shortcomings for some time.