Chapter 1

All the fours, forty-four, as the Bingo callers say, or should that be shout. That was my age when my life was turned upside down. My wife of fifteen years suddenly decided that the grass was greener elsewhere, younger too. She’d been a few months short of forty, an age she refused to acknowledge was approaching, when she left me for her secretary, a young man named Stephen. I always thought it was supposed to be the husband who run off with his secretary.

Kids were her excuse. We both wanted them, but it just didn’t happen. The practise was good, especially early on, but she just didn’t catch. I’d had mumps as a teenager and I’d heard that it can lead to infertility, so I guessed it was down to me. Jacqui, my wife, always blamed me.

The first few months, as we divided everything, were strained, full of paperwork and sympathy. The latter was mostly of the half-hearted kind, readily offered, but rarely actually felt. My family, that is parents and elder brother, were genuinely sympathetic and very surprised. They’d thought I had an ideal marriage. I hadn’t thought it was ideal, though I did believe it to be good.

As the end of the year, actually the millennium, approached, I’d recovered pretty well and was getting on with my life. Fortunately, I’d managed to dodge all the women those so called friends had tried to introduce me to. My brother laughed when I told him about it.

“Better find one of your own soon, else it’s just a matter of time.”

“Cheers Brian!” I’d responded.

All this went through my mind as I waited at the reception of my local council. Stoke-on-Trent council was a typical one party city council that knew that the party would win the next election, no matter what. They spent our money on nice jollies and posh new offices, that were inevitably built by some councillor’s friend or family; over priced and shoddily built.

It did little to improve the already poor mood I’d been in since Monday, when I’d received a visitor from a debt collection agency, chasing my wife. It took a long and very loud discussion before he accepted that I no longer had a wife. He insisted on entering the house to check. I was equally insistent that he didn’t. It didn’t help that I had no idea of Jacqui’s new address. Eventually, he’d given up, though I’m certain he still didn’t believe me. I’d had numerous telephone calls in the three days since, threatening me with all sorts of court actions.

I was a freelance photographer, specialising in architectural and urban shots. That was why I was queuing, a councillor had seen my work and wished to discuss a commission. It would be much needed work, as I’d let the business slip somewhat over the past year.

“Can I help?” A pretty voice asked, snapping me out of my reverie, the previous visitor having disappeared...

“I’m here to see Councillor King, ‘ I told the young lady.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Yes. John Cooper.” I stated, handing a business card to her as confirmation.

Our fingers touched as the card was exchanged and I felt an extraordinary buzz, almost an electric shock. I instantly put it down to static, but paid a lot closer attention to the young woman as she phoned through to, what I presumed was, the Councillor’s office.

She wore her dark hair straight and long, and had incredible blue eyes. She was slim, with smallish breasts, or at least as far as I could tell, given that she was sitting behind an imposing counter. Her lips, highlighted in dark pink, wore a smile, though sadly, only one of politeness.

“I’m sorry, Councillor King is out at the moment.”

I could tell by the phone conversation that this was a blatant lie and was just about to say so when she spoke again.

“He says he will be in touch, to make another appointment.” She said sweetly, not realising that she had just contradicted herself.

“If he’s not in, how can he say he’ll be in touch?’ I asked, rather nastily. I hated these elected officials, who believe they are so much better than the rest of us. He had made the appointment, to suit him; now he couldn’t even be bothered, and if he couldn’t, why should I?

I smiled inwardly as I saw the look of discomfort appear. I could almost see her mind working, trying to find a suitable excuse.

She tried. “It was his secretary, she told me he’d left word to that effect.”

“Bullshit!” I said angrily. “He can’t be arsed to keep his appointments and expects others to clear up his mess. Well he can stick his appointment where the sun don’t shine.”

She was a little shocked by my outburst, but it only took a few seconds before she was reaching for the phone again.

“Don’t bother with security. I’m leaving this pit of vipers.” I snarled before walking out.

Once outside, a few deep breathes calmed me down. Almost immediately, I regretted my outburst. I wasn’t usually quite that bad, but I’d refused a small commission to attend this meeting. My remorse was not over what I’d said, but more of how I’d expressed it to the young woman, who was only doing her job.

‘Oh well, might as well do some shopping whilst I’m in town.’ I thought, as I walked away from the Civic Offices.

I was typical male, in that I hated shopping; so it was with relief when I’d done the necessary. I decided to treat myself to one of the all-day breakfasts on offer at the market’s café. After a few moments browsing the menu, on the blackboard, behind the counter, I went for the Mega. This was bacon, sausage, eggs, black pudding, beans and mushrooms, served with toast and a large cup of tea. It might as well have been called a walking heart-attack, but I usually ate healthily enough, and I was only a couple of pounds over my ideal weight.

I was halfway through when I noticed a pretty woman enter the café. It took hardly a moment to recognise the Council receptionist, who I’d been rather abrupt to, at the very least. I swiftly looked back down at my plate, hoping that she didn’t notice or recognise me. I then forced myself to look in the opposite direction, which meant looking out of the window.

The first thing that caught me eye was a plastic bucket, filled with bunches of flowers, and please don’t expect me to tell you what they were, other than they were red and white, the colours of Stoke City FC, and therefore a very popular colour combination.

Remembering that electric touch and still feeling slightly guilty, on impulse, I ran, or at least walked very quickly, across the street and purchased the first bunch I picked up. I headed back equally rapidly. I still don’t know whether the speed was down to the fear of changing my mind, or, the fear that the waitress might clear away my half-eaten breakfast.

The latter was not the case, as she was clearly busy. I was going to say fortunately busy, but I realised that if I was to give the flowers to the receptionist, then an empty café would have been preferable.

Just after I re-entered, I noticed that the receptionist was heading towards a table with a cuppa. (In many British cafés it is common to order at the counter before taking your seat to await your meal)

“I’m sorry for being such an obnoxious jerk.” I told her, holding out the flowers, as she was looking for somewhere to sit.