Life has intervened and I've not been able to proofread this part as fully I would like. So I apologise for any typos or other mistakes.
FORTY-TWO
I rang the bell at Stephanie Fanshaw's front door and switched on my recorder. There was a long pause and then the door opened.
Stephanie Fanshaw was a striking woman. She was very tall with a thin angular body. She was quite flat-chested but had a waist and hips and a flat bottom which reminded me of anorexic catwalk models. Her face was soft and quite round with a button nose and a wide mouth emphasised by thick lipstick and gloss. Her eyes were a startling blue and her permed hair was rich brown tinged with a hint of red. I suspected it was coloured and hid some grey. We were all getting older, I thought. I noticed her hands which were unusually very large with long fingers and nails, the latter coloured to match her lips. No rings.
She was dressed conservatively though casually, with a high-necked sweater and form-fitting trousers beneath which peeped sensible black shoes.
"Yes?" The tone was aggressive, not to be trifled with.
"Allan Jonsson." Somehow I knew that the less I said the better she would like me.
"Oh yes. I should have known that, I saw you on television. Derek did quite a job on you."
I did not reply and she stood aside to allow me entry, closed the door behind me and then led me into a well-furnished and expensively appointed room.
"Please sit down," she said, gesturing to a plush armchair, into which I sank, wondering how I would ever get up again. She sat at right angles to me on a sofa. I noticed she sat on the edge of the seat, and thought I should have done the same. She smiled as if reading my mind.
"I remember you from before your 'accident', a Christmas party, I think. You were a very good looking man."
She said it matter-of-factly, as if talking of someone else. She had shown no emotional reaction to my appearance at all, her only reference being her comment about Derek.
I remembered she was not at that party, at least that was what David had said. Interesting.
"I assume you want my help in regard to your wife's relationship with my ex-husband."
"Ex-wife," I said, and waited.
"So you got rid of her. Good for you. Once a cheat always a cheat."
"No, she got rid of me before I returned to the scene. She was about to marry Derek."
"But she didn't?" she smiled. It was not a pleasant smile, almost vicious.
"No."
She waited a moment for further explanation, but as none was forthcoming she launched into her account.
"Derek is a weak man. He can't resist pretty women. Your ex. was not the first, but she was the last I would tolerate. I told him when I discovered his previous peccadillo, that there would be no more. He had it coming. I took him to the cleaners; he deserved it."
"Mrs Fanshaw--"
"Call me Stephanie."
"I won't bore you with a long story but I've been away for two years and as a result of this," I touched my head, "My memory is patchy and incomplete. I remember some things from before my attack, but very little of my relationship with Ann. I don't know much, so I'm trying to find out the facts."
"OK," she said, "I've got facts. She touched a file on the coffee table. This is the Investigator's report, and photos, none of any sexual activity, but enough to convict. Read it; I'll make a drink. Tea or coffee?"
"Tea, please."
She left and I began to read. There it was. Dates, times, places, or rather the same place week after week. The hotel was the same one Trish and I had used when I first came back to Sale. The photos showed Ann entering the pub, followed by Derek a few minutes later, then one of them entering one of the motel rooms together, and another an hour later of Derek coming out, then some more of them having coffee together. The dates were over a six month period from the April to September 2000. There were two photos of Derek entering our house in Sale; both times were lunch times. I remembered someone saying that Derek's divorce had run over the Christmas before I disappeared, which was when we started to have pity on him, I supposed.
I felt depressed. Stephanie returned with the tea and set it down on the coffee table.
"Not pleasant reading is it?" she said quietly. I shook my head.
"I don't suppose either of them gave any explanation of these photos and the report?"
"Didn't give them the chance. I told Derek that I would make their little affair very public if he didn't accept the divorce and the settlement. I don't know whether he even told Ann why I divorced him."
"You didn't contact me."
"None of my business. Sorry but I'm a selfish bitch. I'm not good to live with, probably why he strayed in the first place. Sometimes it's better not to know anyway."
"I suppose it shows some love on his part that he wanted to spare Ann from being found out," I suggested.
"Oh, yes," she laughed a dry laugh. "I don't mean he played with his women, I think he genuinely thought he loved them. I suppose he did." She stopped and looked pensive.
"You were very resentful when he cheated." I stated it, but it was a question.
"Oh, yes. I hated him. Still do. That's why I crippled him financially with the settlement. He had to borrow a lot to pay me off. You probably don't know, but he's a lousy businessman. Good practically, but rubbish with accounts and taxes and such like. If I hadn't handled that side, he'd have gone down years ago. I believe he's in serious trouble now, apart from the court case."
I nodded. "Seems so, you don't communicate with him any more?"
"No way!" she stated adamantly. "Communications go through my lawyers. There have been none."
"That'll be why he was pushing Ann into getting married quickly. She's worth a bit, the divorce settlement would have left her very well placed."
"I bet getting those photos of you and that woman in York was a god-send to him, helped push her into marriage and push the settlement up?"
"Well, yes, but they came a cropper when they took it to court. Got a worse result than I was offering."
She laughed. All her laughter was dry and brittle. She really did hate the man; she was not the only one.
"Good for you. Serves him right. Though I think he wanted to kill you to get Ann to himself. I think the money would have been an enticing afterthought. Still he was a fool to think he could get away with it."
"Doesn't make me feel any better either way," I laughed, and for the first time her laughter softened.
"The sobering thought is that if I had died according to the plan, he would have got Ann for good and all her money."
"I have a feeling their marriage wouldn't have lasted," she said it with renewed viciousness. Then she softened, "I really am sorry about your marriage. You were such a lovely couple."
