Chapter 2

I went on as usual. I was well aware of how people saw me, a quiet inoffensive little man, wearing a charcoal-grey pin-stripe suite, carrying a briefcase, in fact I encouraged the image. There are hundreds like me going to work every day. We work at our desk surrounded by paperwork, dry as dust, dependable and boring and most importantly, unremarkable. I liked to be unremarkable. Yet many of those men had a secret. For some it was a small secret, like reading porn magazines in their lunch hour before going home to their loving wife who could never be as exciting as that girl on the page. For others it was gambling or drinking, the need to place a bet on a sure thing or the surreptitious glass in the local pub before taking the bus or train home. I had my secrets. The first was my connection with the criminal class; not even Lily knew about that. The second was that I was having Lily; the woman I worshipped, followed. My dry, logical, mechanical brain had acknowledged the possible problem and had come up with the means to gather more knowledge. What if more knowledge meant the end of my marriage? My brain gave me the answer, my heart wouldn't listen. Lily had a special place in my life. Not just because she was good to look at. She had that ability to make my life fun. My work as many could imagine had no place for merriment. It was painstaking attention to detail and the rules of accountancy. When I got home, Lily lifted me out of that husk. She was full of' Joi de vie', so much that she had enough for it to spill over onto me and make my home life a time of laughter, happiness and pleasure. If she was cheating that life would end and my heartbreak and pain would be inconsolable.

Vin phoned me on the next Monday.

"I have something for you Mr. Martin. I can tell you over the phone or do you want to meet?" I wanted to prepare myself for this so asked him to meet me at the 'Starlight'. Even if Frank wasn't there the staff knew me well enough to allow me some privacy.

"I'll see you at the 'Starlight' at two thirty."

Vin apologised to me.

"I'm sorry Mr. Martin, but I am certain that your wife is up to something." He referred to his notes. "I followed her to work every day. Tuesday through to Thursday She worked all day only coming out to get a sandwich from the supermarket just down the road. Friday she left at eleven-thirty in her car. She had a passenger. I followed her to Marks Tey, where they went to a hotel for lunch. They came out at two and drove back to work. I went back to the hotel and asked some questions. They go usually once a week for lunch, just as I observed Friday. They have lunched regularly for about five weeks. I did learn that he had booked a room for one visit and he spent a couple of hours in the room. But my informant could not say for certain that your wife was with him that day. But it seems likely." Vin had seemed loathe to tell me that, and I was just as unhappy to hear it. Oh God Lily. What have you done to us? I pulled myself together.

"How did you get this information?"

"I had worked in a hotel once. You don't ask reception, you corner one of the porters. They know everything that happens and quite happy to talk once a few notes get offered."

"Would they know who books in?"

"Yes. The porter's room has a computer logged onto the bookings page, so that they know where to take the cases when a guest arrives."

"Who is the man she is lunching with?"

"His name is Bennington. W.A. Bennington." I knew the name, he was the Managing Director of the company Lily worked for. I sat silently, trying to come to terms with this. Vin had proved nothing except my wife had lunch with her boss at least once a week. Inadvisable for her but not actually infidelity. If she had told me it would be acceptable, but she hadn't thus making it a secret. She may or may not have spent two hours with him in a hotel room. You shouldn't accuse when you can't prove. I needed more.

"Vin will you carry on with the observation?"

"Yes, Mr. Martin. There is something. Bennington has booked a private dining room for next Friday. It will be him and three guests. I could get access to the room before, and a mate of mine could fix up some digital cameras. That is if you think it would help." I looked at him.

"Won't they be seen?" He shook his head.

"No. Mr. Martin. They are so small he can put them into air-conditioning vents and smoke alarms."

"Do they take photos or video?"

"Video. He will need to be quite close, loading the images onto a computer. The signal doesn't travel that far but he can get screen grabs anytime you want."

"How much will this cost?" He thought for a moment, possibly wondering how much he could con out of me.

"A hundred for the Porter and say five hundred for my mate." I nodded.

"Do it." I got my wallet from my inside pocket. "Here's two thou, let's call it wages for the week and expenses. That should cover your mate and the Porter." I put the money down on the table. He didn't pick it up.

"Mr. Martin. I'll take the money for expenses, but you don't owe me anything for wages. This is a favour for Mr. Weston." I looked up in surprise.

"Vin. I know how Mr. Weston assumes that people will do him a favour. Your favour is benefitting me and when someone does a good job for me, I believe that should be recognised, Take the money." I didn't have to tell him twice. The money was scooped up quickly.

"Thank you Mr. Martin."

We left the 'Starlight' together. He turned left and I hailed a cab. The club was very near to Canary Wharf and Black Cab's abounded in the area now. Not so a few years ago when they would be as rare as Hen's teeth. No one living in Docklands at that time could afford a cab fare. But the influx of so many financial service types with cash burning holes in their pockets had changed all that. The cab took me back to Old Street and my office. I sat at my desk and stared into nothing. Nothing is what my life promised to be from now on. In that future, like an automaton I would take the train in the morning, my fellow passengers knowing nothing, nor caring of the bitter pain that I carried with me every day. I would come to this office and place figures in the right columns and even then the pain would keep me reminded of what I had lost. Then in the evening I would return to an empty home. No, not a home, a house, a dull listless place empty of her laughter, her presence, her voice, even the lingering perfume she would leave in any room she entered. That would be my life. It didn't matter that my logical brain told me that I had no proof. My emotions told me otherwise. She had allowed another man to view, taste and possess her. Giving to him that which she had once promised only I would have. Lily! Oh Lily. Why? Why?

When I arrived home that evening I was feeling sick. I had wondered how I could refrain from making love with Lily, as she would expect for the next few days. In making love we revealed all of ourselves, hopes dreams and bare emotions. I could not act sufficiently well to fool her, she would know something was amiss. I didn't have to act ill, the closer I got to home the more the knot in my stomach tightened until I was actually ill not faking. Lily was full of concern.

"Have you eaten something that has upset you?" I shook my head.

"I don't think so. Well ... I had a Kebab at lunchtime." She looked at me in astonishment.

"A Kebab? Oh Chad you of all people should know that re-heated meat is certain to make you ill. What made you do that?"

Chad. Now there's another name. My given name is Charles, a name rarely used when I was younger. Lily didn't like the name, she said it reminded her of upper-class, toffee-nosed twits. The Yanks would of course change Charles to Chuck, but in the U.K. Chuck was a slang word for vomiting so that was out. From very early on in our relationship she had called me Chad.

"I just fancied a Kebab for lunch. It seemed like a good idea at the time." I tried to joke. It didn't work for either of us.

"Come on. Let's get you to bed. If you're still bad in the morning, I'll get the doctor to call in." I would be still bad in the morning, and probably every morning for some time to come. It was a sickness I would learn to live with. The Lily that was so solicitous of my condition was at odds to the picture I had in my mind of a cheating adulterous wife. An imbalance that I found difficult to equate. She fussed around me like a mother hen. Keeping me supplied with liquids and making sure that the bowl was close at hand should I be sick. I did retch a time or two and she was there, her cool hand on my brow supporting my head as I heaved, the other hand stroking my back. Her loving actions added to the dichotomy rather than resolving it. I could put an end to this, but with what could I challenge her? That she had lunch with her Boss? I could not be certain that she was one of the party next Friday. Perhaps I could pretend illness next Friday. Would she go or would she stay home to minister to me? Possibly she would have stayed home, but that would only put off the inevitable if there was an inevitable. Fidelity cannot be demanded as a right, it is a gift, given freely and unconditionally from one partner to the other. I gave my fidelity to Lily, happily with the love I bore her foremost in my mind and heart. My sad thoughts were that she had already compromised her commitment even if she had not given him her body, by seeing him socially without telling me. The mind becomes unfaithful before the body.