Chapter 9

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 Sharon said she looked puzzled."

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

"Tracy had been telling me and Sharon a while back that Cheryl told her that you were talking about getting together again. Tracy 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."

"I'm sure Tracy doesn't know about that," 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 Mike's 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 in 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, 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'd 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.