Chapter 3

January

So there was John, sitting in his old local with his cousin Vicky. They had driven up separately in his car and her rented one, both filled to the gunwales with his personal possessions. Having lived in the company furnished flat the whole time, there was no furniture as such, but many of the extras one acquires over time.

They had got the central heating going, since the flat was icy cold and smelled musty, for it was January and the flat had not been used recently. They arranged his things to his taste and then they had repaired, tired but satisfied to the Griffin, while the flat warmed up.

They chatted, enjoying the warmth and the drinks, until John stopped and stiffened. Vicky sensed it as she returned to her seat with a new round.

“What is it honey?” she asked.

“Carol,” he stated, watching his ex-wife walk into the pub with a man, a man he knew. Liam Malley worked at his company and they had been colleagues those years ago. John knew Liam was still working there, having done his homework on the division. Liam had neither the ambition, ability or drive to progress in the firm, though he was more than adequate at what he did.

He watched as the pair chatted animatedly, standing at the bar ordering their drinks. Then they turned, and saw John.

They stopped, and it was obvious that if he had not been staring at them, they would have found another area of the pub, indeed Liam looked most uncomfortable and tugged at Carol’s sleeve to pull her away, but she was already moving toward John.

He saw afresh how pretty his ex-wife was. Her shoulder length auburn hair, her piercing blue eyes, delicate features, perfectly proportioned body and long wonderfully shaped legs.

He remembered how lucky he had always thought he was. The memory of their affection, her sudden gratuitous hugs, her smouldering kisses and their passionate love-making, it all flashed before him in a second as he felt all the resentment that she had ended it without giving him a chance. He felt a cold disgust for the woman.

“Hello John,” she said flatly. Those wonderful eyes looked coldly at him.

“Hello, Carol,” said John, conveying, he hoped, distain by his tone. “Vicky, this is my ex-wife Carol, and Liam Malley.”

They made the necessary noises. Carol remained standing, and John did not invite her to sit down. He waited, his face neutral. At that moment he just wanted her to go away.

“How’ve you been John?” she asked at length, without, he thought, much interest in the answer.

“You mean now, or after you divorced me giving me no reason for what you did?” he said with a touch of aggression.

“John,” she tried to placate him, “It’s water under the bridge now. Can’t you let it go?”

“Not really,” John replied, relaxing against the bench seat. “I have nothing to let go of. If I knew why you did it, then perhaps I could begin to let it go. You wouldn’t talk to me, or even tell me what I’d done, so I’m in a sort of limbo about that.”

“You know perfectly well why,” she said patiently.

“No, I don’t,” John said, his impatience rising, and it showed. “I am not aware I had done anything to bring that on. I certainly never cheated on you as someone told me I had.”

“You cheated. You did. You admitted it – you accepted the divorce.”

“You know as well as I do,” said John becoming exasperated, “that it is suicide to contest a divorce that a partner wants in this country. In any case I didn’t want your brothers beating me up again.”

She had the grace to look guilty for a brief moment.

“They didn’t do it,” she said. “They were at our party.”

“Oh don’t be so stupid,” he snapped, angry now. “I can recognise your brothers when they are beating me up! What your delinquent family and you say to the police and what really happened are two totally different things. Those two nearly killed me. I know who did it. I was there.

“If you’re still living in that weird universe of yours, Carol, I’m not surprised you believe I cheated on you. I assume you made up the story so you could shack up with Liam here. You could have told me if you just wanted out. I’d have given you a divorce without all the violence.

“So why don’t you just leave me alone Carol? As you say it’s water you polluted, under the bridge. You lied; your family lied.

“I know you are lying about my so called cheating because otherwise you would have given me what evidence you had. You couldn’t do that, could you? Because there isn’t any evidence. So to escape from our marriage you lied your way to a divorce. You got what you wanted: we’re divorced. Good bye, Carol. You sicken me.”

John was adept at reading faces. As he delivered his swingeing monologue, he watched the faces. Puzzlement on Carol’s face; she seemed not to understand why after all this time he had not admitted his cheating, then resentment and what seemed to be frustration.

Liam by contrast looked worried and uncomfortable. It couldn’t be that he knew John was now his boss, because it had not been announced. So what did he know? That would bear investigation.

“If that’s your attitude,” Carol snapped. “There’s nothing more to be said. Goodbye, John.”

“Give me evidence!” John shouted after her. “I need closure.”

Vicky and John walked back to the flat. She was as puzzled as he was. They got a takeaway delivered and were eating it when his mobile rang. It was Carol.

“Yes Carol?” said John.

“I’m glad you kept your number,” she said sharply. “You want to know what I know about your cheating? It was at that company conference in London. You fucked some tramp there. I have evidence – photographs.

“OK, John? OK? Try wriggling your way out of that!” and she disconnected.

John bridled. She knew he hated ‘OK’, and she had used it deliberately as an insult, indeed she stressed it. She clearly hated him, but now he had something to go on. He would get some recompense for her behaviour and her attitude to him.

He sat back in his chair, his meal forgotten. It would be three, no four years ago. The firm’s annual conference. He racked his brains. Then it became clear. He now thought he knew what it might be. He remembered some details of the particular evening that now stood out with clear relief in his memory. It was certainly an eventful evening.

Why hadn’t he thought of that when Carol accused him? Then he realised that at the time he didn’t know what he was supposed to have done, nor even what place or year the offence was supposed to have taken place.

He decided he needed to make a few calls the next day, forgetting it would be Saturday.

He discussed the matter with Vicky, and she agreed he needed absolute proof, but then asked what he would do with the proof.

“I want her to know I was faithful to her all along. I want her to feel sorry that she threw away our marriage, that she wouldn’t let me know what I was accused of. I want to see her face when she realises what she’s done. Enough?”

“Enough!” she agreed with a sympathetic smile. “And if, full of remorse, she wants to come back to you?”

That stumped him. “I hadn’t thought about that. I don’t think she will. You saw her engagement ring? I think she’s engaged to Liam. I really don’t know.”

“Then you’d better think about it, hadn’t you? Be prepared?”

He thought about it. He thought about that short meeting with her. It was something he’d said that had aggravated her. He had said she’d made it all up so that she could get together with Liam. Could that still be the case?

The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed. Why else would she and her brothers be so keen on keeping him away from her, even to beating him up? Either way he was going to prove her accusation wrong.

Next morning, he was up early. There was a great deal to do, sorting out his laptop and logging into the flat’s broadband connection, thoughtfully provided by his outgoing predecessor. At eleven he made coffee as Vicky came to life and was heard moving around her bedroom.

Then he phoned Tom Forstone. Tom was now Sales and Marketing Manager for the North, the same level as John when John was Research and Development Manager, but back at the beginning when they joined the company at the same time they were at the lowest level, doing the research and de-bugging programmes. They used to joke about being ‘de buggers’ of ‘de company’.

“Hiya John! Y’a’righ’?” Tom’s Mancunian greeting showed his obvious delight. “What’re you doing up here – head office sent you spying on us?” he laughed. “I heard you’ve been everywhere else but here!”

“Tom?” he asked, “I’m at the company’s flat. Any chance of you coming over sometime today?”

“Important is it?” Tom asked. “Ann won’t be pleased, work on a weekend – until she hears it’s you. Can she come as well?”

“Yeah, and bring the kids,” John said. “This isn’t about the firm, it’s personal.”

Vicky and Ann took the children to the park. Ann said it was a warm morning – for January, the wind being from the south and the children being well wrapped up and needing a run. Vicky volunteered to go as well. Ann had hugged John tightly, so pleased was she to see him. She looked with admiration at Vicky and gave a knowing wink to John, who hastened to explain she was his Canadian cousin. Ann was clearly disappointed, being romantic at heart.

John sat down with Tom.

“Well?” inquired Tom. “What’s this about? You haven’t been up here for over three years.”

“First, Tom,” John began, “if I tell you why I’m here, can I count on you not to divulge the information to anyone until after Monday?”

“Ann?”

“You can tell Ann. No secrets between husband and wife.” A meaningful glance passed between them: Tom was well aware of Carol’s actions and her refusal to tell John why she was divorcing him.

“OK, spill.”

He saw John shudder, and looked apologetic, though he could not resist a half smile. John saw and smiled back.