CHAPTER 4
My everyday life seemed somewhat dull but strange after that. I collected the kids and Mum asked me if I had a nice time with Erica, hoping for some romantic indication, but I had none to give her. I had been "well and truly, thoroughly and utterly fucked" is what I wanted to say, but did not.
Next week I went for an evening with Paul and Erica. They asked how I had enjoyed the experience and I said I was surprised what Paul had let Erica do, but on reflection he was a wonderful husband.
Then there was a surprise. Paul had received an email from Dick, asking if it could be passed on to me. Did I want that? I wasn't sure, so asked what they knew about him.
Erica said all she knew was that he was too big for her to take twice, but she remarked she had been glad to have another go with Tom and Chuck. She kissed Paul.
Paul said he knew that Dick was a reliable structural engineering technician, but was perhaps a bit dull. He remarked how inventive Tom was in dealing with problems, but if Dick had prepared some documents you knew that they would have no mistakes.
As they talked, I heard what has been described as faint praise when someone is not really pretty or clever. I had heard plenty of that about me, and felt slightly annoyed. Not everyone was as good-looking as them, and not everyone could get their qualifications and well-paid jobs. I felt that I was a good mother, at least, and was doing my best. Dick was doing his best, and seemed more honest than the others.
Paul also pointed out that Dick had (as he put it) failed in one marriage, and was now on a two-year contract abroad with only occasional visits to the UK. Erica said I would be better looking elsewhere, especially since I had children, which would put a lot of men off a long-term relationship. She thought that Dick was not that sort.
Their attempts to persuade me had the opposite effect. Yes, I would like the email, please.
I mentioned to Mum that I had met a man (at dinner with Erica, I said) and he had asked to email me. But he was a contractor working on a project in the Middle East for two years, who could only visit the UK occasionally.
She thought about it for a while, knowing what had happened with my last man.
"Did you know your grandma and grandad, my mum and dad, were pen-friends?"
I didn't, and I wasn't quite sure what it meant.
"Before email and such, people used to write letters a lot more, and some people wrote a lot to each other. Mostly it was just friendship, but sometimes a romance developed."
"Your grandad was in the army for a while and ended up in a place called Aden, which was very hot and dangerous. There was some scheme for girls to write to the young men and be pen friends. It usually petered out after a few months, but they kept on, and somehow found each other."
"He visited her once on leave. They managed to have sex once, and decided to get married. When he came out of the army they did, though they had only actually seen each other for a few weeks. It lasted over forty years until he died."
"The funny thing is that Dad (your grandad) insisted that he knew from the first letter that he was going to marry her. Love at first write, he used to say."
I was touched by the story, but began to see that it wasn't likely to be repeated. Would love at first fuck count?
"It'll do no harm," she continued, "but be careful not to build up expectations. Men are not always honest online, and you can be sure there will be other women while he is away. I think some couples make a go of it while the husband is away a lot, but not too many. And I have to say this, think about your lovely children."
She was right. It wasn't very likely. Dick was probably as dull as Paul suggested, and after all he was a stud for hire - so not exactly an ideal prospect.
Still, we started to email. It was in many ways better than speaking. I actually wrote it like a letter and pasted it into the mail when I thought I had got it right. I knew the damage that a hasty email could cause, so spent hours over each one.
It was not exactly poetry. He was used to writing engineering reports, and I was used to office documents, and I think we were both not that creative. He made more spelling and grammatical errors than me, because he had not had my training. But we sort of got on.
The first thing I learned was to call him Richard. He didn't like Dick because people thought that was the only important thing about him, and some called him Thick Dick.
Finally I told him about my grandparents and got a surprise. He was actually working on a port in Yemen, near the city of Aden. Mum got out some black and white photos Grandad had taken, and I scanned them and sent them. Richard was able to recognise some places, and sent me back modern pictures. They actually had a clock they called Big Ben! A picture of Grandad in front of it had always puzzled Mum.
Somehow that made the difference and our correspondence relaxed. He said that he had stopped doing the Three Cocks Service, but I said he should carry on, so long as he used a condom. I did actually mind a bit, but it was silly to deny him and the ladies the pleasure. He said he would really like to see me and the children when he came home over Christmas. Yemen doesn't have a Christmas holiday, but it is understood that the contractors usually take a couple of weeks at that time, if the work allows.
CHAPTER 5
Mum was pleased to have the children for a weekend, and they were glad to be spoiled by their gran and grandad, being allowed to stay up late and eat sweets. Dad came and collected them in the morning. Just after lunch, Richard arrived in a taxi.
We were like teenagers on a first date (in the 1950s!). He was wearing a suit, and I had had my hair done in a way I was now regretting, plus a completely new outfit, including suspenders and stockings. This was on Erica's advice. She said all men found them sexy.
We kissed as if our parents were watching, and he brought his suitcase in. Then we sat and made stupid remarks in the living room. I had already downed a large gin to give me courage, and would have had another if he hadn't refused a drink and asked for tea.
The conversation flagged after a while, and we sat in silence.
Finally he said "Could we go to bed, do you think?"
"Yes, yes, yes!" I thought
"Why not?" I said.
In the bedroom I undressed as seductively as I could. Standing there in my underclothes, I remarked coyly "do you like stockings and suspenders?"
"Actually, no," he said. "I think they're a bit silly. I don't know why women wear them today."
I loved his simple honesty.
"Me too," I said, and got the silly things off. No more striptease, I just got naked as he did the same.