Every Tuesday morning at nine minutes past ten Kay says to her husband, "I'm off to town Tom."
Tom always replies, "Have a nice time dear," then he laughs and says, "Give him my best wishes."
Kay smiles and replies, "I will dear," and then leaving the house she makes her way to the bus stop and catches the nine fifteen bus into the CBD.
Had Tom known it his joking remark about giving an make-believe lover his best wishes was closer to the truth than he knew, but to explain that and tell Kay's story some background is needed.
* * * * * * * *
In describing Kay's life adjectives such as "Ordinary," Suburban," "Bland," "Commonplace" and "Humdrum," might spring to mind. Those descriptions might be true as they are for many of us, but also like many of us there is one small, private corner of Kay's life that none knows of, not even Tom.
As for Kay, at the time I am concerned with she was in her early sixties. Around five feet five tall her figure was still almost as trim as it had been when she was in her twenties, and looked at from behind you might mistake her for a woman of thirty or even younger.
It was only as she turns to face you that you realise that she is much older, but even so you might mistake her for being in her middle to late forties, and if you had been privileged to see her medium sized breasts -- which only two men have ever seen naked -- you might wonder at their youthful elasticity. I have it on good authority that she wears a 32B bra.
Tom, the retired manager of a small branch of a large bank, had been married to Kay for thirty seven years; they live in a medium sized suburban house, comfortable but not spectacular. She and Tom are regular attendees of the Anglican Church, and are considered a very respectable couple.
Their married life had begun passionately enough and they had produced two children in fairly quick succession, which children have now been gone from home for several years. After the birth of their second child their sex life had gradually diminished, not so much because of Kay, but because of an apparent loss of interest on Tom's part. If Kay regretted this she has never said so, and she still retains a fondness for her easy going husband and has no wish to break the marriage bond and go in search of new sexual pastures.
It was not she who went in search of new pastures, but new pastures that seemed to find her and this came about because of her pre-retirement employment.
She had worked in the university library, not as an exalted chief librarian, but as a modest library assistant. In the course of her work she had chanced to meet Professor Alexander Cavendish, head of the Political Science Department. A tall man with a handsome mane of white hair, and unlike many of his colleagues he was of friendly and cheerful disposition. He and Kay had often exchanged pleasantries and she found herself mildly attracted to him. It is after all pleasing to have a man say that your hair looks nice or your dress suits you so well.
Alex, like Kay, was coming up to retirement and in fact they did retire within a month of each other, he to become Emeritus Professor and to write a weekly political column for the newspaper and occasional articles for various journals. Kay retired to focus on her beloved garden.
It was in her retirement that she began her regular Tuesday trips into town, initially to shop and wander round the Art Gallery and Museum and occasionally attend a lunchtime concert at the Festival Centre.
It was in the Art Gallery Café while having a cup of tea and some biscuits that Kay chanced to meet Emeritus Alex. He asked if he might sit with her and agreeing, Kay addressed him as "Professor" as had been her custom in the past. He smiled and said, "Would you mind calling me Alex, it's much friendlier."
She, blushing mildly, said that perhaps he would like to use her name, and so they became Kay and Alex. They chatted for a while, mainly about how they were enjoying retirement and what they were doing with their time. Kay spoke unaffectedly of her Tuesday activities and Alex had shown some interest.
This chance meeting was very agreeable but as they parted Kay saw it as no more than that, a chance meeting that was unlikely to be repeated. She even told Tom about it, but he showed no particular interest.
It seemed strange, but after that chance meeting they seemed to keep running into each other: at the Art gallery, the Museum and the lunchtime concerts. They even casually mentioned where they were likely to be the following Tuesday -- purely in the course of conversation you understand.
* * * * * * * *
The friendly relationship that had been established between Alex and Kay took a new turn when one sunny Tuesday morning Kay set out for the city and the weather unexpectedly took a turn for the worst. It became cold and poured with rain, and Kay, without umbrella or raincoat got soaked to the skin before she could get to shelter.
Alex, armed with an umbrella, found her wet and shivering sheltering in the foyer of the Museum.
"My dear Kay," he said, "Your soaked, would you like to come back to my flat and dry out."
"Wer-were's yer-your fer-flat," Kay said through chattering teeth.
"Only about five minutes walk from here," Alex replied cheerfully, "Come on."
Alex's flat was located in one of the blocks of flats that had in recent years been built in the CBD to try and draw people back to live in the city. Alex's flat was on the third floor and Kay found it surprisingly spacious.
She was invited to take off her wet clothing in the privacy of a bedroom. Since every article of clothing she was wearing was soaked this meant total nudity until Alex handed her a dressing gown round the corner of the door. Wearing this outsized garment and drying her hair with a towel, she joined Alex in the lounge, and instead of their usual cup of tea or coffee he poured two brandies, telling Kay that this would ward off undesirable ailments. He gave no reason for his own imbibing.
