Chapter 2

Claire was deeply disturbed as she drove away from John’s house on a sunny calm afternoon. It had been a sudden decision to visit him, born of her compassion for his bereavement, but as soon as she saw him all the old feelings had returned.

She could not identify what it was about him that turned her emotional life completely upside down. It had happened exactly like that all those years ago. She smiled as she remembered how all her beliefs and convictions about love and sex had been undermined, not by his urgings or his arguments, for there had been none. All the changes came from within her and her desire for him.

She smiled. She had been far from prudish, but she had always resisted the groping of her previous boyfriends, none of whom lasted very long or got very far. She blushed as she remembered how, after her first date with John, he brought her back to her hall of residence. Unusually she had kissed him with a total lack of inhibition, her hands round his neck instead of by her sides, and had not resisted his hand as it made its journey up the outside of her leg under her pleated miniskirt to stroke her bottom.

Then there was the second date when they had gone out with his friends and, finding she was too late to return to her Hall, they had returned to their friends’ first floor flat. The second date! The others were already couples and went off to their shared beds, leaving John and herself in the living room on the bed-settee.

She had stripped down to her knickers, even removing her bra and actually displaying her breasts to him as he undressed to his underpants. Then they had spent an uncomfortable night on the lumpy furniture. He had not tried to make love to her but they had cuddled close, the size of the ‘bed’ forcing them together. From then on they were an ‘item’, though it was many months before she would offer him her virginity.

He just made her feel so alive, so capable of anything. His ideas were so original to her, especially about religion. And, she ruefully thought, nothing had changed even after all the years.

She was also astounded and angry, indeed livid, as she thought how Peter had intercepted John’s letter, hidden it from her, and had presumed to answer it on her behalf.

How dare he! She seethed all the way to her sister Ellen’s house and her resentment grew. It was not simply resentment about the letter. She realised he no doubt thought he was doing it out of love to protect her, but she knew it was really because he always sought to organise and order her life in every detail to keep control of her, because he was an intensely jealous man.

She was qualified as a teacher, but on his urging had stayed at home while the children grew up. She even wondered if their move back to the Netherlands was to prevent her getting a job of her own. She had never tried to practise in the Netherlands, though she was soon fluent in Dutch.

His control of their finances ensured that she always did what he wanted. In fairness, she thought, he was a company director and organising others, including her, was part of his nature, and she was sure that he did really love her.

She never had any serious doubts as to his faithfulness. Indeed it was his love and faithfulness that allowed her to suffer his overriding jealously, but this affair of the letter, this was serious. It went beyond all bounds of decency and even morality (she knew he thought himself to be a moral man). His action deeply insulted her.

As she drew up to Ellen’s house, Ellen rushed out to the car.

“Claire, where’ve you been? Peter’s been ringing every half-hour. He’s worried stiff. You should have been here over two hours ago.”

Claire rested her head on the steering wheel and looked sideways up at Ellen. “D’you know, Ellie? I don’t care a fucking damn how worried he is.”

Ellen looked startled. “What’s the matter, Claire? Something serious has happened hasn’t it?”

Claire nodded. “I’ll say it has. Let’s get into the house and I’ll tell you over a cup of tea – or coffee.” She remembered that Ellen did not drink tea. She got out of the car and the two sisters walked arm in arm into the house.

Claire sat at the table in the roomy kitchen of the large house, as Ellen made the coffee. While it brewed, she turned to Claire. Ellen was an accountant and worked from home; Simon her husband was a solicitor. The house reflected their wealth.

“So? What’s happened? Where’ve you been?”

“I went to see John Pollard.”

Ellen was nonplussed. The name did not ring a bell. “Who?” she asked.

“Sorry.” Claire had forgotten how long it had been. “He was my boyfriend before Peter. Remember now?”

Ellen remembered. “It must be thirty years Claire. He came to the house one summer. I was going on holiday with Mum and Dad. I was out and he’d gone before I got back. Mum and Dad didn’t like him at all, if I remember rightly. They thought you could do better. Didn’t you invite him back while we were away, you dirty girl?” she giggled. “Dad was very relieved when you married Peter. God, our parents were snobs back then! So why look John Pollard up?”

“I called on Fr Gerard on the way here. Don’t ask me why, it was just a whim. I hadn’t seen him for over a year and his parish was on my way. He told me that John’s wife had died very suddenly a few months back and John was taking it badly. Apparently they were deeply in love all through their marriage. So I diverted to see him. It was a spur of the moment thing.”

“So how was he?”

“Bearing up stoically, I think is the best description. Still very unhappy and depressed. I’m glad I went: it seemed to cheer him up.”

“But what’s up with you and Peter? You’re angry with him, I can see that.”

“Ellen, you won’t believe this. John said he’d written to me some years ago. He was very ill at the time with cancer and wanted to make his peace with people he thought he’d hurt or treated badly. I never got the letter. Peter opened it and sent a nasty reply on my behalf saying I didn’t want anything to do with him! And he didn’t tell me!”

“Good God!” Ellen’s blasphemy was heartfelt. “I know Peter’s a jealous bugger – he never used to let you out of his sight at parties. Didn’t he get angry when you talked to that Graham?”

“The jealousy I’ve coped with. Let’s face it I’ve lived with it for all our marriage. But this! He treats me like I’m his property. I wonder how many other letters he’s intercepted from friends of the past and answered them for me?”

The phone rang. The two women stared at each other. Then Ellen rose to answer it. She turned to Claire. Mouthing that it was Peter.

She spoke into the receiver. “It’s OK, Peter, she’s here.” She covered the mouthpiece. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Tell him I don’t want to speak to him. I’ll talk to him when I get back.”

Se relayed the message, then there was a silence as Ellen listened. “He says he wants to speak to you now.”

Claire rose in a temper, grabbing the phone from Ellen and shouting into the mouthpiece. “Peter don’t you understand English? I will not talk to you, I will not explain anything to you until I get back.” She slammed the phone down.

She was shaking with rage as she sat down and as she did so the phone rang again. Ellen dived for it before Claire could reach it. She listened. Then spoke quietly.

“Peter, there’s no point in shouting at me. Claire isn’t going to talk to you until she gets back. She’s a very angry woman at the moment, so there’s no point in phoning again. Good bye.”

She replaced the receiver on its cradle. It did not ring again.

Ellen poured the coffee and set it between them, offering milk and sugar. Then she sat and leant forward. “So, what was it like with John after all this time?”

Claire smiled. Her anger just evaporated as she remembered the meeting. Ellen could see the tension dissipating as Claire smiled fondly. Oh, she thought. Our Claire’s still carrying a torch for him, eh?

“It was as if we’d never been apart. He didn’t know me at first, but that’s not surprising, I’m in my fifties and we last saw each other when I was twenty one – I’ve changed and he wasn’t expecting me. But once he did, his eyes softened as he remembered, and when we hugged, well, I know I shouldn’t say this but I felt somehow back at home in his arms.”

“Wow, Claire!” Ellen exclaimed. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, Sis, but I realise now that I hadn’t felt so peaceful and content for a while. Peter and I have been coasting along, and I sort of got used to it. You know how strait-laced he is! It’s like living in the 1950s. He moralises all the time, following the strict right-wing church line – no contraception, a good wife obeys her husband in everything; only men can be priests. He believes all those dogmas which I’ve always taken with a pinch of salt – Immaculate Conception, Assumption, Virgin Birth. For him it’s all literally true.

“I know he loves me, he’s very affectionate, very comfortable, generous, caring, just not imaginative. I think he could be passionate – I know he desires me – but he won’t let himself go. We do get on all right together. Or rather we did.” At this Claire’s jaw set and her anger returned.

“When did you last have sex with Peter?” Ellen asked. She had always been direct and she had picked up on Claire’s remarks.

Claire thought. “About three months ago, I think. It was quite an effort to seduce him, and he was worried that he’d make me pregnant again – at my age! He doesn’t know I’ve been on the pill for the past three years. He’d have a fit!”

They both laughed.

The two sisters had always got on well together, and there were no secrets between them. They each knew the other would never break a confidence. Indeed they felt a strong bond of love and affection.

“The truth is, Ellie, visiting John has unsettled me.” Claire continued after they had calmed down. “As I said, he’s heartbroken, poor man, and I realised how deep their relationship was. It could have been me with him, having a relationship like that. Now I feel I’ve somehow missed my way in life. I’ve missed out somehow. It’s thrown a new light on my life with Peter.”

“Claire, you’re not...”

“Oh no! I made a commitment to Peter and I’ll stick with it. I do love him very much, you know. At least I will if I get a proper apology for what he’s done. I’m astounded at his nerve! Fancy writing to a man suffering from cancer, who’s trying to make his peace with everyone in case he dies, telling him to back off and that I want nothing to do with him! It’s almost unforgivable. And to lie that! I didn’t want to talk to him. I tell you, Ellie, it’s shaken me completely. I don’t know what I feel for Peter now. I can’t get my head round this.”

“Well, to be honest, Claire, I don’t know how you’ve stuck with him as long as you have.”

Claire looked startled, as indeed she was. She was surprised their relationship was transparent to others. She tried to explain.

“Well, it was great at the beginning. After the intensity of my time with John, he came as a relief. He was a real friend. He never made any sexual move on me and it was clear this was because he had these strong beliefs about sex before marriage.

“And believe me, Ellen, after we married, there was a lot of passion. He wanted children – and so did I. It was only after John was born that the sex began to be less frequent, except when I assured him I was safe. Of course then I got pregnant with Philip, number five, and after that he didn’t trust me.”

“I never asked you before. Were you a virgin when you got married? Was Peter the only one?”

Claire looked down at her hands on the table.

“No,” she said.

“John?”

“Yes.”

There was a silence. Then Ellen spoke again.

“Does Peter know?”

“No, he thought he was the first, but since he was a virgin, he’d no way of knowing that I wasn’t. I think he thought I’d popped my cherry on my bike or some such, since there was no blood. He never mentioned it, and knowing him as I do now, he really would have.”

“You know, Claire, I can’t believe we’ve never talked about this.”

“It’s not surprising, darling. Peter’s always been here with me, and the children were always around as well, ours or yours.”

“So what’s sex like with him?” Ellen asked leaning forward.

“Hey, Ellie, that’s a bit personal!”

“Oh, come on, Claire! We always used to talk about everything. Tell!”

“It’s always very nice–”

“Nice!” Ellen exclaimed. “Nice?” she repeated more gently. “That’s a very ‘interesting’ way of putting it. What do you do? How much variety?”

“You mean having sex?”

“Yes. Positions? Foreplay?”

“Missionary. He’s very gentle. I always enjoy it and feel loved.”

“Orgasms?”

“He always comes.”

“I meant you!”

“Not with him. He won’t touch me down there, says it’s immoral. Luckily I’m usually moist and I can get myself off in the bathroom. If I get randy I can get a good buzz on my own.”

“Did you get any with John? I assume he broke you in.”

“Yes, that time when you were on holiday with the folks.”

Ellen laughed. “Naughty girl!”

“Funny you should ask that though,” Claire continued, after a grin at Ellen. “He was saying that he knew practically nothing about pleasuring a woman when we had sex. I remember I got really excited but I never actually came. And I finished with him not long after that. I felt I was getting too serious too early: we were getting so intense. I was a fool. I reckon he knows a lot more now! I read his wife’s letter.”

Ellen looked puzzled.

“When John was being treated for cancer he wrote a letter to Elizabeth for her to find if he died. Anyway, she found it while he was in hospital and it gave her the idea to write one of her own in case she died. So after she passed so suddenly, their solicitor gave it to him.”

“Pretty personal – intimate?”

“Ellie, you’ve no idea! Anyway,” she coloured up and grinned. “It was incredibly steamy!”

“Whoa!” Ellen gasped. “And he let you read it?”

Claire nodded. “How about your sex life?” She asked her sister as if vouchsafing that information about herself gave her permission to pry.

“Fantastic! Missionary, me on top (they call it cowgirl), doggy, sixty-nine, standing up, on the kitchen table, wheelbarrow. He’s really sensitive and loving, and skilful! He fingers me to perfection, does a fantastic job with his tongue as well. I come and come. He loves my blowjobs! Yeah. We have a blast!”

Claire was silent, breathing hard, red faced, her face a wooden mask.

Ellie took her hand. “Hey, Sis. You did ask. I’m sorry.”

Claire sighed. “Yes I did, didn’t I? Elizabeth said much the same in her letter to John.”

“Can’t you get Peter to...” she faltered to a halt. “No, I see you can’t.”

Claire’s eyes were tearful. “I wish now I hadn’t gone to see John. Peter and I have a very good life, but now ... God! What a mess!”