"That is probably the most disgusting thing I've ever heard," I declared sternly, adopting a look of utter disdain.
My companion, my best friend for as many years as I could remember, looked totally distraught. She stared at the half-empty wine glass on the table in front of her, unable to meet my gaze and completely taken aback by my condemnation of the very personal secret she'd just shared with me.
"Really, Beth," I went on, struggling to keep a straight face, "No one... absolutely no one... has an extramarital affair with a bloke named Eric!"
She stared at me for a second or two, uncomprehending; then her face broke into a huge grin and she began to laugh. "You really are such a bitch, Sophie!" she told me, as tears of laughter began to seep from her eyes, "For a moment there, I really thought...."
"Oh, come on, Beth," I giggled, "Surely you know me better than that!"
If she didn't, then she really ought to have done. We were both in our late thirties, we'd been friends all the way through school, and we'd always shared secrets that we couldn't possibly talk to anyone else about.
In our teens, it had all been about our fantasies and ambitions; the careers we'd coveted, the boys we fancied, the music we liked and so on. Later, it had become more serious; the losing of virginity (she'd been a couple of weeks ahead of me on that one!), the first serious affair and, eventually, bridesmaids at each other's weddings.
As we approached the big milestone of 40 we no longer lived in the same town – and our social circles were very different – but we made a point of meeting for lunch at least once every month to catch up with things. It was harder for me to do, because my work involved long hours, while Beth was a 'lady of leisure.' That had been the main difference between the paths we'd chosen; Beth had married for wealth and security while I had chosen a much more romantic path.
As it happened, neither of us had managed to get what we were looking for. Beth's husband had lost a huge chunk of money from some dodgy investments and, while they were still a very long way from penury, the mansion had been swapped for a large cottage, the frequent holidays in the Caribbean had given way to a timeshare in Spain, and her Mercedes had been replaced by a Mondeo Cabriolet. In my case, although the love hadn't completely died, it had certainly diminished. My husband, Daniel, seemed to find it impossible to hold down a job for very long, always complaining that the ones he had weren't really what he wanted to do (even though he'd never been able to work out what that was!) and, with the passage of years, he'd put on an unhealthy amount of weight, smoked too much, and paid little attention to me as long as I continued to bring in the monthly salary from my job as a legal secretary.
If anything, it ought to have been me who was in the market for an affair, but I'd honestly never considered it. Unlike Beth, I was beginning to show signs of becoming middle-aged; lines on the face, breasts starting to sag, waist and hip sizes not quite as slim as they once were. Beth, on the other hand, was as slim and elegant now as she had been at 19; her figure was kept in trim with plenty of time spent in the gym, her hands and face had been treated with care and she seemed to have a permanent tan that showed no signs of being artificial.
A few months back, she'd told me that she was seriously considering a divorce – as long as she could be sure of a decent 'settlement' from it. She'd discovered that her husband was keeping a mistress and it was a case of the mistress being willing to do things that the wife wasn't; in his case, quite extreme bondage. Last time we'd met, she'd told me that, after a confrontation, she'd agreed to stay with him – although sex was completely out of the question – as long as he made suitable financial arrangements.
"So... is Eric the next millionaire on your list?" I teased.
"Not unless there's a lot more money in window cleaning than I realised!" she replied.
"What? You're having an affair with Eric the window cleaner?" and we both burst out laughing so loudly that several other customers in the small bistro turned to look at us.
"Behave yourself, Sophie!" she demanded, still grinning, "You're beginning to sound like my husband's stuck up friends!"
"Okay... sorry, Beth," I apologised, just about managing to be serious again. "So tell me, what's the attraction? How did it happen? Where did you meet him? What's he like? Is it serious? Are you going to run off with him...?"
"Whoa! That's a lot of information you're asking for," she grinned and then, after looking around as some customers began to occupy the table next to ours, she went on, "I don't think I can say too much here. Let's settle up and go for a stroll through the park, shall we?"
I agreed, even though I knew it would mean having to stay behind at work to catch up with what I was doing and, as usual, she snatched up the bill and paid it before I had any chance to object.
A little while later we found a bench in the park, sat down to enjoy the bright warm sunshine, and she began to fill me in on the details of what she referred to as her 'extracurricular activity.'
"We've had our windows cleaned by the same firm ever since we moved into the cottage," she began. "They're very reliable, very efficient and we've never had any complaints. Of course, with the kind of winter we've had, it hasn't really been possible for them to do very much so they were getting a bit grubby. The insides were okay because the cleaning lady does them of course."
That made me smile. I did my own housework, including the windows both inside and out – my husband washed the dishes occasionally and genuinely believed he was a real help to me.
"Anyway, there was that nice spell at the beginning of April," she went on and, sure enough, the window cleaners turned up. This time, though, the older one of the two wasn't there – apparently he'd had some stupid accident and broken his arm... or was it his leg? I don't know... something like that. Anyway, the bloke who replaced him simply took my breath away! He was gorgeous! He's thirtyish.... Don't look at me like that, Sophie! He's not that much younger than me!
"Anyway... he's got long dark hair and a sort of 'Mediterranean look,' if you know what I mean. Of course, that's shattered as soon as soon as he opens his mouth and speaks in a broad Yorkshire accent... but never mind.
"Of course, I couldn't keep my eyes off him. He's got a really great physique and a very handsome face. Apparently, he was making a living as a golf-professional but he had a bit too much to drink one day and disgraced himself. It seems that during an argument with some of the committee members, he lost his cool and ended up being thrown out. He hasn't played at all since then because his heart isn't in it any more.
"I learned all this on that first day because I made them a cup of tea and we had a bit of a chat. I asked Eric if he'd be interested in partnering me in a tournament that was coming up at our club – a mixed 'four ball, better ball' if you know what that means?"
I didn't, but she carried on any way, obviously delighting in the memories as she told her story.
"Anyway... he wasn't sure about it at first but, after a bit of persuasion he agreed to dig his clubs out and give it a go. Well, the day of the competition was windy and a bit wet... not the sort of weather that well-heeled members relish. For me, though, it was wonderful. He was careful not to make it look too easy... he even told me when he was about to deliberately fluff a shot... and we just about won it.
"I'll tell you what, though, he didn't half annoy me!"
"Oh, why's that," I asked, trying not to look at my watch because this was obviously going to take longer than I'd expected.
"Well... I'd introduced him as a family member from 'up North' and the sod kept calling me 'Auntie Beth' at every opportunity. I could've swiped him with a sand wedge!"
"A sandwich?"
"No, you clown," she laughed, "A sand wedge... it's a lofted golf club that... oh, never mind! Anyway, after the tournament we all had a few drinks in the clubhouse. Eric was very well behaved and stuck to a single beer that he nursed very carefully. I'm afraid I had a bit more than that because I'd put one over on a certain lady who is quite prepared to cheat in order to win... which she normally does.
"So, by the time it came to leave, I gave the car keys to Eric and asked him to drive me home. We'd met at the cottage and he'd left his battered old Renault there while I gave him a lift to the club, so it wasn't going to be a problem.
"I suppose it's fair to say that I was a little bit tipsy, but I certainly wasn't drunk. On the way home, Eric started off by praising the way I played but, as we relaxed, I realised that he was slipping in a few ambiguous comments...."
"Such as...? I asked.
"Well... for example, he said he liked the way I gripped the shaft... don't laugh! And there was something about my ability to 'open my body' when I was 'swinging.' It's a game that lends itself to that kind of thing. Anyway, I gradually began to realise that he was eyeing me up whenever he could manage to take his eyes off the road... and it seemed as if he liked what he saw.
"So, when we reached the cottage, he parked the car and gave me the keys back. I mean, don't get me wrong, I was already fancying him... big style! But I wasn't about to make things as easy as that. I was polite and pleasant... we'd already arranged to partner each other in the next tournament... so I confirmed the arrangement for that one... gave him a 'thank you' peck on the cheek and left him to head for home by himself.
"A couple of weeks later the window cleaners came again... but Eric wasn't with them. The usual man was back at work and when I asked, in as vague a way as possible, what had happened to the younger one, I was told that he'd been moved onto a different 'round.' Well, I didn't know what to do. I hadn't bothered to take his number or anything, so I didn't even know if he'd turn up on Sunday! The truth is, I suppose, that it was the uncertainty that made such a difference. It wasn't just that I needed a partner for the tournament... I found that I was really dreading the thought of not seeing him again."
"You were smitten."
"Yes... I suppose I was. I mean... don't get me wrong, Sophie, I knew then and I know now that it wasn't anything serious. It was just lust... just one of those itches that you need to scratch... you know what I mean"
