Chapter 3

Martin had been thinking as he drove home, an idea had hit him on his way out of his office. Now he was working out what needed to be done to implement it. He pulled up outside his house and sat for a while going over the last details in his mind. He smiled to himself, it was ingenious in it's simplicity with only one complication, if it worked he was home free if not he would have to go with the plan laid out to him by his anonymous copper.

He heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs as he slid his key into the lock, when he entered he could hear the shower start to run. "Have I just missed a visit from Franky" he wondered.

He was brewing tea when she came down, he looked at her and asked. "Your eyes are red, been crying?"

"No" she cried defensively, "I got soap in my eyes."

"Bit late to be taking a shower." A statement not a question, his voice had an edge to it, an edge he didn't want.

"I had a rough night, slept in, er, I haven't been up long. Er, why are you home?" she replied.

"I was chucking up, came home sick." he said as he checked around the room, looking for signs that she had had company. He could see none.

"I think I will go and lie down for a while." As he spoke he watched for signs of guilt, signs that she didn't want him to see a freshly used bed. He saw both guilt and fear, a little more of the love he once had slipped from his grasp.

He was pleased to find that although the bed was unmade, but there were no signs of fresh infidelity. He pulled the quilt straight and lay down upon it.

He lay upstairs for an hour or so trying to iron out the one complication in his plan. It was easy if he didn't have a "chaperone" as the cop with no name had called it. Try as he might, he could not see a way past that. The only thing he could think of required a change to his normal routine, and he had a viable excuse for that. He clapped his hands together with glee and jumping up from the bed pulled out two suitcases and began packing.

After he closed the second case he walked down to his wife, he could see she had been crying some more.

"You have been crying darling, it is because I treated you so roughly last night isn't it?"

Grateful of the excuse he offered she agreed that it was.

"I think we should go away for a few days." he told her. "Try to sort ourselves out, we seem to be getting it all wrong, when I want you, you don't want me and vice versa, I hope after a short break we will be back in sync."

Her eyes lit up for a second, then the fear returned. "H'how long for?"

"I'll call Charles in a while, if he says no then we will leave tomorrow night as soon as I get home and come back late Sunday, or I could phone in sick tomorrow and we could leave right now, but if he says yes, I will try for all next week." He gave her a couple of seconds to ingest what he had just said. "So up to you, do we take a definite three days, or do we risk that for a possibility of a good ten days, that could well be only two."

As she answered, she knew it wouldn't be ten days, at the most it would be seven but the idea of being away from any prospect of Frank fucking Grimard turning up on her doorstep demanding she fuck him or some other bastard, getting away from that, for any time was to be jumped at. "Yes, oh, yes please, where shall we go."

"Lets decide that when we know how long I can take off." He smiled. "I made a pot of tea earlier, I doubt it's still drinkable."

"I'll make a fresh one." She offered reaching for the kettle.

Over a cup of tea they chatted weighing up possible destinations things they would like to do or see, both remembering how this was how it used to be between them, both covering up their own secrets, their own agendas.

Martin waited till just after half past three before he called Charles Chiswick.

"Hello Charles, Martin here."

"Curtis said you went home ill, are you feeling better?"

"Somewhat, still feeling a little queasy, I think it's best if I take tomorrow off too, er, but I er, was er, wondering could I take next week off as holiday, Angie and I have been talking and we would like to get away for a few days."

"That would be alright with me hang on I will check with Curtis to make sure he has nothing planned for you."

Martin could hear a mumbled conversation, he assumed Charles had covered the mouthpiece. After a couple of minutes Charles spoke to him.

"We will need you back at the end of next week, so we will see you Thursday goodbye."

Martin had never gotten used to the way both Charles and Curtis ended a call, goodbye and hangup, no chance for whoever was on the end to say cheerio. Martin turned to Angie, "We are coming home Wednesday."

Angie forced a smile, she had hoped for a while there would be a way out of her predicament.

"I suppose that means you will be heading over to Europe again?" she proffered.

"He didn't say?" he answered, both of them knew he hadn't needed to.

Martin fetched the suitcases down from the bedroom and locked them in the boot.

"I didn't realise you had already packed, do you want to get going immediately?" said Angie.

"Ready when you are" he replied.

"Um um, I'll just use the loo."

As soon as she was out of sight he looked in her handbag, he was pleased to see no syringe. He took her phone out and kicked it under a chair, closing her handbag he took it out to the car. He was returning inside when she met him at the door.

"Have you seen my handbag?" she asked.

"Yes, I just put it in the car, come here, we might as well start as we mean to continue." He grabbed her and pulled her close, he kissed her passionately, running his hands over her body, or as far as he was concerned, her pockets, he was still checking for a syringe.

Martin loved to drive, he is one of those people that holds an atlas in his head, perhaps it was the numbers, he held them in his head too. As he picked his way north and west until he connected with the A1 at Retford. From there they headed north for another couple of hours, before finding a hotel for the night. Conversation had been sparse, both of them thinking about their own situation. Angie could think of nothing other than ways of getting herself out of her predicament. Hopefully, without her husband finding out. She had in the last few days, either remembered her love for him, or fallen back in love with him.

Martin had his own thoughts, he was still angry with her for the betrayal and the sheer bloody disrespect she had shown him, and he needed to pay her back, however he did not want the woman he had loved to be used as a whore for the man he now hated.

She ravaged him once the door to their room was shut, but she did ask that he give her arsehole a rest. She was still sore from the pounding he gave her last night. Tonight he did not just fuck her and feign sleep, he made love to her, doing to her everything he could, to keep her in ecstasy. His devotions giving her orgasm after orgasm. When he finally let her rest she was asleep in seconds. He made sure she was asleep and dressed quietly, then he left the room and went to his car.

They showered and put on clean clothes before an early breakfast, Martin wanted to get a few miles under their belts before the traffic thickened. As Angie had repacked their suitcases putting their dirty clothes in a plastic bag she was puzzled at how dirty Martins clothes had seemed to get over night.

Their next stop was to be Rosslyn chapel, a place they had visited years before Dan Brown had made it famous. They agreed it looked better now the roof had been restored, and the protective covering over it that had made it look like a Dutch barn had now gone. Later that afternoon they headed into Edinburgh. Martin took no notice when the oil warning light came on. They took a hotel in Edinburgh, a very late lunch followed by more sightseeing, they did the castle and the ghost walk (Royal mile ghost tour) before returning to the hotel for a late dinner. Martin sampled many of the single and double malt nectars on offer. So many, Angie had to get assistance helping him to their room. Needless to say, no ones toes were curled that night, and there was no early start in the morning.