Chapter 30

I rang the bell at Stephanie Fanshaw's front door and switched on my recorder. There was a long pause and then the door opened.

Stephanie Fanshaw was a striking woman. She was very tall with a thin angular body. She was quite flat-chested but had a waist and hips and a flat bottom which reminded me of anorexic catwalk models. Her face was soft and quite round with a button nose and a wide mouth emphasised by thick lipstick and gloss. Her eyes were a startling blue and her permed hair was rich brown tinged with a hint of red. I suspected it was coloured and hid some grey. We were all getting older, I thought. I noticed her hands which were unusually very large with long fingers and nails, the latter coloured to match her lips. No rings.

She was dressed conservatively though casually, with a high-necked sweater and form-fitting trousers beneath which peeped sensible black shoes.

"Yes?" The tone was aggressive, not to be trifled with.

"Allan Jonsson." Somehow I knew that the less I said the better she would like me.

"Oh yes. I should have known that, I saw you on television. Derek did quite a job on you."

I did not reply and she stood aside to allow me entry, closed the door behind me and then led me into a well-furnished and expensively appointed room.

"Please sit down," she said, gesturing to a plush armchair, into which I sank, wondering how I would ever get up again. She sat at right angles to me on a sofa. I noticed she sat on the edge of the seat, and thought I should have done the same. She smiled as if reading my mind.

"I remember you from before your 'accident', a Christmas party, I think. You were a very good looking man."

She said it matter-of-factly, as if talking of someone else. She had shown no emotional reaction to my appearance at all, her only reference being her comment about Derek.

I remembered she was not at that party, at least that was what David had said. Interesting.

"I assume you want my help in regard to your wife's relationship with my ex-husband."

"Ex-wife," I said, and waited.

"So you got rid of her. Good for you. Once a cheat always a cheat."

"No, she got rid of me before I returned to the scene. She was about to marry Derek."

"But she didn't?" she smiled. It was not a pleasant smile, almost vicious.

"No."

She waited a moment for further explanation, but as none was forthcoming she launched into her account.

"Derek is a weak man. He can't resist pretty women. Your ex. was not the first, but she was the last I would tolerate. I told him when I discovered his previous peccadillo, that there would be no more. He had it coming. I took him to the cleaners; he deserved it."

"Mrs Fanshaw–"

"Call me Stephanie."

"I won't bore you with a long story but I've been away for two years and as a result of this," I touched my head, "My memory is patchy and incomplete. I remember some things from before my attack, but very little of my relationship with Ann. I don't know much, so I'm trying to find out the facts."

"OK," she said, "I've got facts. She touched a file on the coffee table. This is the Investigator's report, and photos, none of any sexual activity, but enough to convict. Read it; I'll make a drink. Tea or coffee?"

"Tea, please."

She left and I began to read. There it was. Dates, times, places, or rather the same place week after week. The hotel was the same one Trish and I had used when I first came back to Sale. The photos showed Ann entering the pub, followed by Derek a few minutes later, then one of them entering one of the motel rooms together, and another an hour later of Derek coming out, then some more of them having coffee together. The dates were over a six month period from the April to September 2000. There were two photos of Derek entering our house in Sale; both times were lunch times. I remembered someone saying that Derek's divorce had run over the Christmas before I disappeared, which was when we started to have pity on him, I supposed.

I felt depressed. Stephanie returned with the tea and set it down on the coffee table.

"Not pleasant reading is it?" she said quietly. I shook my head.

"I don't suppose either of them gave any explanation of these photos and the report?"

"Didn't give them the chance. I told Derek that I would make their little affair very public if he didn't accept the divorce and the settlement. I don't know whether he even told Ann why I divorced him."

"You didn't contact me."

"None of my business. Sorry but I'm a selfish bitch. I'm not good to live with, probably why he strayed in the first place. Sometimes it's better not to know anyway."

"I suppose it shows some love on his part that he wanted to spare Ann from being found out," I suggested.

"Oh, yes," she laughed a dry laugh. "I don't mean he played with his women, I think he genuinely thought he loved them. I suppose he did." She stopped and looked pensive.

"You were very resentful when he cheated." I stated it, but it was a question.

"Oh, yes. I hated him. Still do. That's why I crippled him financially with the settlement. He had to borrow a lot to pay me off. You probably don't know, but he's a lousy businessman. Good practically, but rubbish with accounts and taxes and such like. If I hadn't handled that side, he'd have gone down years ago. I believe he's in serious trouble now, apart from the court case."

I nodded. "Seems so, you don't communicate with him any more?"

"No way!" she stated adamantly. "Communications go through my lawyers. There have been none."

"That'll be why he was pushing Ann into getting married quickly. She's worth a bit, the divorce settlement would have left her very well placed."

"I bet getting those photos of you and that woman in York was a god-send to him, helped push her into marriage and push the settlement up?"

"Well, yes, but they came a cropper when they took it to court. Got a worse result than I was offering."

She laughed. All her laughter was dry and brittle. She really did hate the man; she was not the only one.

"Good for you. Serves him right. Though I think he wanted to kill you to get Ann to himself. I think the money would have been an enticing afterthought. Still he was a fool to think he could get away with it."

"Doesn't make me feel any better either way," I laughed, and for the first time her laughter softened.

"The sobering thought is that if I had died according to the plan, he would have got Ann for good and all her money."

"I have a feeling their marriage wouldn't have lasted," she said it with renewed viciousness. Then she softened, "I really am sorry about your marriage. You were such a lovely couple."

"Thanks, but I'm beginning to think that perhaps not remembering some things is a better way to be."

"Perhaps," she said.

That was it. I thanked her, levered myself somehow out of the armchair's grasp and left. As I drove back home, I reflected on how Stephanie's life had been blighted by resentment and hatred. Better to let go and look ahead, and talking of looking ahead, there was now something to talk to Ann about. There would be no going back to her after what I had learned.

However, at the back of my mind, there was a niggle. It was intensely annoying: whenever I made progress, something at the back of my mind niggled away at me.

What was it this time? Was it that none of my friends noticed she was cheating on me? It certainly seemed from what trusted friends were saying that I knew nothing of it. Did they? So Derek's gloating comment that they were having an affair and I knew nothing of it rang true. No one noticed a change in her attitude, her behaviour? Weird! I shrugged and let myself into the flat. As I closed the door I realised it was something in that conversation with Stephanie that was niggling, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was.

Next day Jenny and I were on a train going to London. She told me she had booked a service flat for a week. It was cheaper than a suite in a hotel since we didn't know how long we'd be there. The bill would be a known quantity. She grinned as she told me that it was a two bedroom flat. I shrugged. I hadn't expected any sex with her. Anyway I had too much to think about.

On Friday Jenny's presentation was flawless as always, and we went into the component in detail. The negotiations were protracted as they haggled over the price on what for us was a very small order. Jenny was very patient, but we had to meet again on Saturday morning. On Friday night Jenny and I reckoned they were pushing us into the weekend to get us to give ground.

At lunchtime on Saturday, Jenny told them that we had plenty of work and didn't need their custom. They knew our spec. was the best and that we could deliver on time.

"We've talked round the subject long enough, either make us a reasonable offer, or find another supplier. We're just wasting our time here." I was astounded at her aggression!

However it had the desired effect: they were stunned and they signed the contract I offered them.

The MD actually applauded Jenny's feisty behaviour and offered to take both of us to dinner and a club that evening, which he did, being joined by his wife.

We got to bed in the early hours. Jenny had repeatedly tried to phone Peter, but his phone was off.

By early Sunday afternoon we were back in Manchester. We parted at the station, and I got a taxi to the flat, where I phoned Ann and asked to talk with the boys. Then some late lunch after which I stripped off and got into the shower.

I stretched out on the bed and fell asleep, being woken some two hours later by the insistent ringing of the doorbell. I donned my bathrobe and went to the door. It was Peter.

He barged in, past me and into the living room.

"Afternoon Peter!" I said sarcastically.

"You couldn't keep your hands off her could you? Had to have a bit of extra from your assistant, did you?"

"Now wait a minute–"

"I knew it was too good to be true! I knew she'd be back in your bed before long. She told me you'd given her up to be with me, can't you keep your prick in your pants?"

I had seated myself in my chair and waited until he calmed down. He was pacing the floor.

"Peter, have you talked to Jenny?"

"I don't need to; the meeting was Thursday and Friday, it's Sunday! I assume you were busy in her bed all day yesterday!"

"PETER!"

We both jumped. There was a very irate Jenny standing in the doorway, hands on hips, a face like thunder. I had forgotten to close the front door.

"How dare you!" she shouted at him. "How dare you accuse me of cheating! And without talking to me! If this is the way it's going to be, I'm finished with you! I don't need a jealous boyfriend. How dare you accuse Allan of all people! He's been my protector and my guide, and when he makes a decision he sticks to it."

Peter was visibly cowed under the onslaught. "I ... I..."

"You what?" she snapped.

"I thought–"

"You didn't think, Peter," she snarled. "You acted like a jealous little boy."

"Well," he retorted, "Why are you a day late?"

"The negotiations ran over," she said, quite patiently, I thought. "In the end I had to cut up rough with them. We had separate bedrooms. Last night their MD took us out for a meal. We were deadbeat and stayed over, in any case there were no trains that late.

"Incidentally," and here she was warming up again, "I tried to phone you repeatedly but your phone was off. Why? Who were you seeing?"

"No one!" he was indignant, "Are you trying to–"

"Accuse you? Weren't you accusing me, or Allan? Come on; leave Allan to rest. He's had a hard time."

She dragged him towards the door.

"Sorry, Allan," he called over his shoulder helplessly. I smiled and gestured that it didn't matter. The door slammed.

I had just dropped into my armchair, when the doorbell rang again. I pushed myself vertical wondering what Jenny had forgotten and padded to the door. I was tired and hoped it was someone who had the wrong flat. I opened the door, and there stood Ann's sister Claire.

"Can I come in?" she asked with a shy smile. It struck me it was a shadow of Ann's smile, another memory.

"Yes, of course," I said and stood back. She entered and stopped in front of me, her face upturned for a kiss. We were ex-siblings in law after all. We kissed cheeks and I led her to the living area, and offered a drink. She sat on the sofa and shook her head with thanks, and another of those smiles.

"So," I said, as I sat in my chair, "what have I done to deserve a visit from my ex-sister in law?" I smiled. I felt I had always liked Claire.

"Allan," she began hesitantly, "Ann phoned me."

"Oh," I said, flatly. "Go on."

"She said you think she was having an affair with Derek long before you disappeared, before his divorce; that Ann caused his divorce."