Chapter 31

I didn't have long to be astonished. Within five minutes Geoff rang to say the Newcastle lot had asked to see me to discuss their ideas. I was testy. I asked if they'd never heard of conference calling, or emails. He apologised and said they had plans on paper, and would I go the next day, early.

"How early?"

"There's a train from Piccadilly at just before seven, get in about ten. They'll pick you up."

I went to bed and woke when I needed to, but long before I wanted to. I woke as I went to sleep, angry.

I was angry all the way to Newcastle. I restrained myself, at least part of the time, talking to physicists who seemed to think that everything was as possible in real life as in theory. It was a question of how long they were prepared to wait while we worked through their specifications. They wanted it quickly. Tough.

I had a contract for them, Jenny had drawn it up and it was perfect. They promised to read it and see me the next day. I crashed at the hotel immediately after dinner. The next day they agreed with a few minor quibbles and all was finished by eleven that morning.

I toyed with the idea of going home straightaway, but decided to stay over that night as well and think through what had transpired in my life.

I retired to my room and worked my way through the 'tapes' from all the conversations I'd held with 'the three', with the PI in York, Derek and Stephanie. Then I reprised them and added David's and Viv's. I talked my way through the conversation I'd had with the next-door neighbour.

Everything seemed to fit together. Derek met Ann at the party. In the year that followed, at some time, they struck up a friendship. They were seen together. Derek claimed they began an affair, and Stephanie's evidence bore that out, emphasised by Derek's reluctance to bring Ann into the divorce proceedings, which on thinking about it reflected well on him.

Then when I disappeared Ann was devastated. I could understand she loved me a great deal, but wanted Derek and his sexual technique as well. So losing me put her off him for a while, probably from guilt. She thought I had cheated with someone else, and realised how guilty she was in her turn.

So the affair cooled while she longed for me to return. She could forgive; she had sinned as well. Perhaps she may have met him for comfort when the children were at school. Our neighbours certainly saw him at the house often enough. Finally she was able to move in with him and settled down, even if, as the children seemed to think, she thought him second best as husband material. The sex must have done it for her.

I could understand her anger at me when I first made myself known. She was under a misapprehension, and her vehemence seemed to show her love for me, her sense of betrayal. She had stayed with me during her affair, but I had left her and the children high and dry. I was much more guilty than she had been, but she still wanted Derek, and my return complicated her life.

This showed after she knew the truth about me, her guilt forced her to try to re-establish our relationship but she longed for Derek's body and it showed in her constant siding with Derek against all the evidence. That stubbornness was surely more than just a hunch he was innocent? It was as if she desperately wanted him to be innocent. The only reason for that had to be that she lusted for him, while discovering she still loved me in every other department.

So would she go back to him after the trial? Her repeated returns to him in spite of protestations that she was finished with him seemed to bear that out. The last two occasions she slept with him seemed to reinforce what Derek said, she loved him more than me; she wanted him and couldn't stop having sex with him and she felt guilty and pitied me. Stripping for him seemed to indicate more than a sexual farewell to a long time lover. Perhaps she was in love with each of us in a different way?

I mentally shrugged my shoulders. Ann would be confronted with the facts and I would hear her side, though I wondered how she could possibly have any reasonable explanation that showed she wanted me back, as she kept asserting she did.

The evidence of Derek's guilt seemed straightforward. The three assailants were part-time employees. O'Malley admitted leading them to me, or me to them to be accurate. His connection with Derek was straightforward. Those three were definitely guilty.

Then there was the payment. That was a clear link to Derek: his money. Then there was his forged letter and his previous affair with Ann. Motive: either to get Ann herself or her money. He got the former but failed to get the latter.

Behind all this, there remained a niggling feeling that I had missed something. What was it? Where was it? There was certainly this mystery go-between, the tall man who organised the attack and paid the men off. Did the tall man also recruit the PI from York? The tall man wasn't seen again, and no one saw him with Derek. O'Malley thought he was a friend of Derek's, but that was conjecture based on a supposed sighting some years before.

That man hadn't been traced by the police. Derek certainly wasn't helping there, he denied all knowledge of the man, according to Colin, but he would do that wouldn't he? Was it possible that the man was paid by someone else and the money out of Derek's account was a coincidence? But the payees were fictitious. Could it be Derek squirrelling away cash before he went bankrupt? Against this the amounts were the same as those paid to the three and to O'Malley. No, it was his money all right.

I played through all the conversations yet again. Still nothing. I had the feeling it was staring at me and I couldn't see it. I gave up. Ann was guilty. Derek was guilty. Just the final showdown with Ann to go. I felt sadness. I was already very fond of her, nay more, attracted to her. It had grown as my memories returned, memories that we had a good life together for all those years. It seemed that only the latter part of that good life was a lie.

I had a thought and left the hotel. I went to the pub frequented by the staff at the hospital. Perhaps someone would be there.

I bought a pint and was about to find a seat when I felt a hand on my arm.

"Aled? I mean Allan, silly me."

I looked round. Oh, yes!

It was Sue. Now I had a terrible memory for names, but hers shone like a beacon lit by lust!

Sue. There are women's bottoms which one could stare at for hours, so perfectly shaped are they, seeming to invite touching and fondling, breasts that are not huge but balance perfectly the inward curve of her waist. A long neck, and long, long legs. A face you just can't tear your eyes away from – except to gaze at her arse. Beautiful long flaxen hair. That was Sue.

She shepherded me to the table where a few of Trish's and my friends were sitting, and the night became perfect. Of course, they got my history since I left. They were by turns sympathetic and envious and happy for me. Once that was over, the stories and jokes flowed, and the drinks with them. At the end, we all stood to leave and Sue came and stood by my side.

"You're single then?" she asked, tucking her arm in mine.

"Yep!" I reposted, feeling full of the cheerfulness alcohol engenders, as we arrived on the pavement outside the pub.

"My day off tomorrow," she said, "I've always wondered about you. Your hotel near here?"

Suddenly I knew I didn't want what she was obviously offering. She was exquisite and she was offering it to me, but I didn't want to have sex with her. Was it that she was so totally confident that any man she offered herself to would obediently follow her to her bed? A sort of arrogance born of her certainty of her own attractiveness? Did that put me off?

She pulled her arm away. "What's the matter, Allan? Have I said something?"

Then I had a flash of memory. Trish upset because she'd had casual sex with that medic.

"Sue," I said. "I'm sorry, I don't do one night stands. You're one of the most beautiful women I know, but I'm not into casual sex."

"Oh," she said, disappointed.

"I've been told that I was completely faithful to Ann for twenty years, then I was faithful to Tirsh for those months we were intimate, and I was faithful to Jennifer, the last girlfriend I had. My friend David says it's in my genes. I just don't do casual."

"I see," she said. "I think that's nice."

"Sue," I said, "I don't understand this. My face is not pretty," I laughed dryly, "but you wanted me. Why? There are lots of good looking blokes out there, why me?"

She stood in front of me. Looked hard at me. And smiled.

"It's not your looks Allan! You're sort of transparent. There's no affectation; you don't try to impress. You have dignity and strength, and you put up with your injuries with humour and cheerfulness. Makes you sort of intriguing.

"You know, it's actually weirdly flattering that you think enough of me to turn me down. Well, must go."

She pulled my head down to her and gave me a scorching kiss, which I returned.

"Hmm, good kisser too!" Then she laughed. "Well, this evening's been different!"

"You're quite special Sue, you know that? I've had a great night. Thank you."

"Love you too. Goodbye," she said and turning, strode off, attracting a good number of male eyes to gaze on her swaying hips and that prize-winning arse outlined in her tight, tight jeans.

I wandered back to my hotel, had a whisky in the bar and went to bed where I masturbated vigorously to Sue's bottom's memory, and then fell into a deep and satisfied sleep.

I love travelling by train, and I was able to assess the Newcastle contract and find it satisfactory, to review what I had learned, and what I needed to know about Ann's dalliance with Derek before my attack, and to decide what I would do about it when I returned to the flat. All that and gazing out of the window at the fields and houses flashing by.

I also did what I hate other people doing on trains, I used my mobile phone, but I did my phoning in the toilet. I had to bring Geoff up to speed since I would not be returning to the office that afternoon. I was going to relax in my flat.

'Man proposes, God disposes' as the saying goes. Perhaps He/She (perhaps Both/Neither?) was miffed at my boozy activities the night before. God was on the side of my daughter that evening, and rightly so as it turned out.

I had a plan. I re-recorded Stephanie's conversation with me, and also Derek's, burned a CD and had it ready for Ann. She could listen to the evidence and then explain herself. Then I went to bed for an hour. It might have been longer if the doorbell had not gone and forced me up to answer it.

There, standing in front of me, were Greta and Ann. I stood back as an invitation, and they went through to the living area.

"Greta was wondering if she could stay with you this weekend," Ann began, "The boys have gone to stay with Peter. He's taking them to a football match tomorrow, and to some junk food place tonight."

Greta was trying not to look hopeful but failed. I sighed.

"I'm pretty bushed, I'm afraid," I said, "Newcastle was very busy and exhausting,"

Greta looked disappointed and downcast and dear old Dad couldn't bear it.

"If she's prepared for me to fall asleep," I continued, "she's welcome to stay."

Greta's smile was all the reward I needed. Then Ann followed it on with, "I wondered if we could talk while I'm here? Save the delay in making another appointment,"

I immediately felt angry. She was trying to catch me unprepared. No way.

"No, Ann," I said, "I am dead beat and couldn't concentrate. We agreed we'd make appointments and we'd have these meetings alone. I'm not talking to you with Greta here, the flat is too small, and what I've found out about you, I don't think you'd want to talk about with her here."

"What?" she said, angry in her turn.

"No. No more," I said, "but I have something to give you," I picked up the CD.

"Listen to this, and when we meet we'll really have something to discuss."

"Bring her back Sunday afternoon before the boys get back," she snapped, "And be prepared to talk. I'm sick of being constantly put off."

And she turned and swept out, slamming the door behind her. Greta emerged from 'her' bedroom.

"What's going on Dad?"

"Mum is annoyed with me because I won't talk to her now. I'm going to talk with her on Sunday."

She was satisfied with that. "Dad, we don't have to do anything. I've got my laptop and games and books. I just needed to get away from Mum for a while. She's been very edgy and snappy – bad tempered. With the lads away, I'd have been first in the firing line. Finding fault with everything."

"OK," I said and off she went.

We did go shopping on Saturday, or rather we started out shopping together until she saw three friends and that was the last I saw of her until quite late. She had rung to tell me not to keep a meal for her.

On Sunday we ate out for lunch.

Over lunch: "Dad?"

"Yes?" what, I wondered, was coming.

"I don't know what's gig on between you two, but it isn't doing Mum any good. She's always flying off the deep end at the slightest thing. I hear her crying after we've gone to bed. I'm worried about her. Please relax your rules a bit and talk with her."

This was yet another side of Ann. Why was she crying? Ask the daughter.

"Have you asked Mum why she's so upset."

"No, she's so touchy."

"Look, if you hear her, go to her. Give her a cuddle, and ask her."

"Um," She said thoughtfully. Then she smiled lovingly and hugged and kissed me, leaning across the table. "I think it's you she's crying over, Dad, she wants your cuddles not mine."

There was no answer to that. It's hard to watch a daughter having to grow up too fast, hard to think of her as a woman. She's needs to be a girl for a long time after she's a woman.

We collected her things from the flat and I took her home, ready to meet Ann. The final showdown?

As we drove into the drive, Greta said, "I've got to make myself scarce while you and Mum talk, but she wants me there in case I can help with information."

That's what she did. We entered the hall, she shouted hello to Ann and went upstairs with her bags, shutting the door behind her.

Well I thought, it's a technical breach of the rules we set, but at this stage I don't care. After what Greta said, I don't want to be the cause of more suffering.

I went into the kitchen, and Ann was pouring two mugs of tea. She was dressed in a flowery tee shirt and jeans; no attempt to impress like last time.

"I want to talk in here," she said, "across the table. The living room chairs are too comfortable."

When we were seated opposite each other. She looked at me, and the look was of dislike and unhappiness.

"Have you got anything to say?" she asked, quite aggressively, I thought. "When you've finished, I've got a lot to say. So you'd better get started."

The feelings she projected raised similar feelings in me, and I started to feel angry. She had seen the evidence of her betrayal of our marriage, and here she was attacking me. What had I done? OK. I could dish it out as well as she could.

"I've had enough of your game playing and lies. You profess love for me, longing to get me back. You assure me that your sexual life with Derek is over, and days later you're in bed with him again.

"You say you're torn apart by the attack on me and its results, and yet you constantly side with the man who paid people to kill me so he could deceive you into his bed. You're still siding with him, believing him and implying I'm a liar. I couldn't work out why, until Derek came to see me and then when I went to see Stephanie Fanshaw.

"You were having an affair with Derek long before he tried to have me killed. So of course you want him, and want to keep going back to him. He must be a fantastic lover to have such a hold over you; someone I could never compete with. As he said, you wanted me for the lifestyle and him for decent sex. The evidence of your affair is sitting in Stephanie's files. Of course the folk next door saw him arriving once or twice a week while the children were at school.

"At least he had the honour, if that's the word, to keep your name out of the divorce, at immense cost to him and his business it seems. No wonder you wanted to use my money so badly to get him out of his financial hole.

"Also no wonder either, that he then needed me dead so he could move in on our money. The evidence is all there: the money from his accounts going to the three thugs who did this to me; the forged letter to get you to start on the road to marriage.

"Well, why don't you stop all the play acting and go back to him? Oh of course, the children. They hate him and wouldn't go back to him, and while you love lover-boy's body, you love your children more. So you're prepared to go through the charade of loving me and wanting me back so you can have the best of both again, the money, the lifestyle, the children, and Derek when you get the itch.

"I think what little relationship we have is over. We need to sort out the custody of the children. I will buy a house for you and they can live with me and you can have visitation rights as often as you want. There. It's all out in the open. Don't try gainsaying the evidence; it speaks for itself."

There was a pause. She had been looking more and more angry as I ranted through my tirade, but there was a deep sadness in there as well. She flinched visibly at some of my remarks which I took to be guilt.

"Have you finished?" she asked. I nodded and sat back.

"You are such a stupid bastard Allan sometimes. Now you will listen to me, and you will listen like I did, in silence until I have finished. Then I suggest you get up and leave, and go think about what I've said. I assume your precious little recorder is working?"

"Ann," I replied, "you know I need it. Short term memory is still risky."

"OK, so you can go home and replay it and then think about it. Then come back and talk some more. I've a lot to say, so be patient.

"I met and fell in love with you twenty three years ago. I knew nothing about your life, or about your ambitions or the future. Our early years were lived in relative poverty, as you got your business off the ground.

"When you appointed David as your attorney in case you died or were kidnapped you asked that I take half the company, and I refused. I loved you, not your money. I loved you, not your business. Out of love I put up with your many absences as you travelled round the world on business, and I longed for you to come home.

"As a lover you were second to none. I was deliriously happy with our sex life: it was always fresh, exciting and most of all loving. It was specially intense when you got back from your trips. You were my sole focus, and no one else came into the picture. You need to know that, because we've never talked long enough for you to find that out since you came back.

"Now I know you have memory loss, but I haven't. So my feelings for you are no different now than they were then. I know you don't believe that, but it doesn't stop it being true. I can understand that with a defective memory, you might not feel the same way, you won't have the continuity.

"I'll leave the issue of my so-called affair aside for a moment, partly because it never happened, and partly because it will interfere with the flow of what I'm telling you."

Evidence! Evidence! I thought, but kept quiet.

"When you disappeared my life fell apart. You said, or implied, that no one believed you would go off with another woman but that I did believe it.

"Sorry, Allan, I refused to believe it until the photo evidence came. I'd say here that you should realise that evidence is not enough. I'll come back to that as well because you're wrong about evidence speaking for itself. It never does. It's always interpreted, and we often have insufficient knowledge to interpret it properly.