A Diamond and a Club

British English spelling and grammar.

In UK we call them mobile phones. This story is set in the early days - before they got cameras and GPS.

Yes, they're boyfriend/girlfriend, and I put it in Loving Wives. Live with it.

***

A diamond and a club

Prologue

I called Ed to see if he fancied a Sunday lunchtime pint.

"Sure, I'm already in The Wheatsheaf Bob."

"But I called you at work."

"Yes, but I can transfer work calls to my mobile."

"That's neat. Maybe I should get one."

In the pub, Ed explained.

"I have to work one Sunday a month, but only to man the phones. So I got one of these new mobiles, and I can transfer office calls to it. Any customer who rings, thinks I'm at work. And if I can't answer their query from memory, I just say I'll call them back Monday."

Chapter 1

Tabby and I live in a rented place, but all the furniture is ours. If I get a promotion next year, the plan is: buy a house, get married, start a family. Meanwhile, I keep my nose to the grindstone at work, and I'm getting noticed. Every week or so, I have to work in one of my company's smaller branches, and stay in a hotel overnight. The sex is always wild when I get back. We have a routine when I'm away. I call Tabby at her office when I've checked in, to let her know I've arrived safely. I call again around ten thirty, when usually we're ready for bed. Those calls are more intimate.

One Tuesday it was Bristol, and we went through our usual routine when I got into bed.

"Bob, I guessed it would be you!" she said. "How are you managing without me, attacked your right hand yet?"

"No." I replied. "I'm saving it up for you. I'd rather make love to you twice tomorrow, than once to my hand tonight!"

And next night, I managed three. Tabby came four times.

Back at work, I handed in the Bristol report, and was called into Frank's office.

"The Bristol manager, Carl, was impressed with your work, Bob. He asked if you'd like a permanent position there."

"Wow, he never said."

"No, he thought it best to run it past me first, in case I can't let you go. Are you interested?"

"You bet!"

"Well, here's the situation. You'll get promotion next spring anyway. But you can get the same deal there next month. I don't want to lose you, but neither do I want to hold you back. I know you come from the West Country, so I thought you'd probably want it."

"I do."

"There's another advantage: the guy you're replacing has already left, and Carl says there's three months left on his rented apartment. If you want, they'll hold it for you. It would make for an easier start, till you get yourself sorted."

"I really want this Frank."

"Three weeks then."

I wrote my resignation and had a quiet afternoon. I decided not to share my news with Tabby, because I suspected she was having an affair with a work colleague. Sounds very matter-of-fact, but I'm a logical thinker; that's what I get paid for. I applied myself to the problem.

I was sure she was been lying to me. There's a psychology to lying. 'If you're going to lie, tell a big one' is nonsense. A person having an affair will intersperse their lies with as much truth as possible. But the name of the other person will be looming large in their minds. So they'll mention it. That way, if it crops up in conversation, they're covered. 'Oh, X? You remember X, I've mentioned him before.'

I had mentally trawled through our recent chats about Tabby's job and workmates. Then selected the name she'd come up with most often. Charles.

'Is he your boss?' I'd asked.

'No, Richard's my boss. But when we're seconded to a project, we shift from line to project managers. I report to Charles for everything on the Omega Project.'

There was more: Charles had only been here a few months. Other members of staff really liked Charles. Charles was divorced and lived by himself. Charles was being fast-tracked for a director's position. Yet there was never anything about whether Charles was tall or handsome, etc. Sometimes you leave clues with what you do not say.

Maybe Tabby was not having an affair. Or she was, but not with a colleague. Still, cutting through the maybes, Charles was my candidate. And if they were guilty, I have a violent streak; they were both going to pay. I snooped around for more clues, but found nothing. I have a vindictive nature, which is usually well hidden. Blood would be spilled if Tabby was playing away from home. But, before the situation got out of hand, I was prepared to step back and give her the benefit of the doubt. So I tested her.

"You wouldn't ever have an affair would you? I'd be furious if you did."

"Where's this coming from?" she asked.

"Will you answer?"

"Of course I will. No, I would never cheat on you."

"No reason for asking really. It's just nice to hear it said out loud sometimes."

"So, would you have one? Is that what this is about?"

"I would not." I said.

"I'd dump you if you did."

We drew back from that little chat and avoided each other for an hour.

Chapter 2

One week later, I was off to Coventry.

"You don't often get consecutive weeks." said Tabby.

"They're seriously backed up babe. I might get another trip next week."

I still hadn't told her about the Bristol position; that would remain a secret for now. That night, from my hotel room, we went through our goodnight phone routine, and I included 'I hope you're tucked up in bed alone!"

"Not that again; of course I am!"

"You sure you don't want anything to eat?" she asked, when I returned next evening.

"No, it's late. I just need to get to bed. I don't sleep well without you."

In the bedroom, there were two cushions, resting on their corners, and leaning against the headboard.

"What's this?" I asked.

"It's modern. It looks sophisticated."

I climbed into my pyjamas while Tabby brushed her teeth. Then, as I finished brushing mine, she screamed. I rushed back into the bedroom, and she was standing on a chair, shrieking. She looked like Tom's big black mama, when she's just seen Jerry.

"Spider!"

The duvet was pulled back on her side, to reveal a hairy tarantula the size of a saucer.

I picked it up, held in front of my face, and squeezed.

"Bad spider! Frightening poor Tabitha, like that!"

I threw it at the bedroom door, where it bounced off onto the floor. It lay on its back, twitched once, and went still.

"It's all taken care of babe. The hero returns!"

"You bastard!"

She jumped down off the chair.

"You know I hate spiders."

"Well yeah, that was kind of the point of the joke."

"It wasn't funny. Get rid of it."

I picked it up. Not hairy after all, but rubber.

"Where shall I put it?"

"Throw it in spare bedroom. And while you're there, go to bed. You're not sleeping with me tonight."

I took it downstairs and put it in the kitchen waste bin, wrapping it in newspaper first. I returned to the bedroom.

"No way am I sleeping in the other room. I don't sleep well in hotel beds."

"Well, you're certainly not getting any sex."

She was crouched into her pillow, clutching one of her fancy cushions to her chest.

"Fair enough; I'll try and keep the wanking quiet!"

I didn't wank of course, and during the night she snuggled up against me. In the morning, we made passionate love. Afterwards, lying in each other's arms, she spoke.

"Sorry about last night. But you really scared me."

"I'm sorry too. I spotted in a joke shop while I was away. It was supposed to be a bit of fun."

I wasn't entirely surprised at her news over breakfast.

"We're invited to a barbecue on Saturday."

"Oh, whose?" (Could it possibly be Charles'?)

"Charles'." she confirmed. "He's invited everyone from the project, plus a few neighbours. He doesn't know many people round here, so it'll be a good chance for us all to get together socially."

"Well, let's go and make him welcome then."

"Great. He asked if we can each bring our own tipple."

Chapter 3

We gathered late afternoon. There were a dozen others from the office; I knew most of them, and half a dozen neighbours, who I didn't. I don't know if everyone got the same personal service as us, but he was keen to show Tabby and I around the house. The room I found most interesting was his master bedroom. There were three cushions artfully placed between the pillows. Very sophisticated; we've only got two. Back downstairs she joined her colleagues. Charles and I were in his study, which he referred to as the library. The bag of golf clubs in one corner looked incongruous.

"You have a lot of Stephen Kings." I said, picking up 'The Stand'. "I've never seen this extended version."

I was putting on my reading glasses, when he said: "A lot are first editions."

I started to put it back.

"No, it's ok, have a look. All the valuable ones are on the top shelf; some are still shrink-wrapped."

Throughout the barbecue, I kept an eye on Tabby, but she gave nothing away. She had brought two chilled bottles of Pinot Grigio in a cool box. As far as I knew, she'd never drunk it before. I'd brought twelve cans of Boddingtons in the same box. I didn't expect to drink them all, and was prepared to share. One of the neighbours had turned up with a litre bottle of The Macallan. I'd get to know him better!

I stood next to Charles and chatted.

"Pretty isn't she?" I said.

"Who?"

"Tabby."

"Oh, of course. Yes, she's nice."

'Nice?' I thought. 'What a giveaway. You're scared to admit she's pretty to her husband. I knew it was you!'

He was casually dressed in polo shirt and jeans, and incredibly hairy. I don't have much underarm hair, and none on my chest. But his was bursting over his shirt; not unlike a big spider. I smiled.

Later, Charles was busy at the barbecue, I slipped into his kitchen. A high cupboard revealed a dozen bottles of Pinot Grigio. Suddenly he yelped. Turned out he'd left the barbecue fork with the handle hanging over the coals, and then picked it up. One of the female neighbours brought him into the kitchen. Her husband, he of The Macallan, was dozing in a chair. I went and joined him.

Tabby got up and took over chef duties. She ignored the hot fork and grabbed a spatula, flipping the burgers like a pro. She even rolled the sausages over with it. Bun in one hand and spatula in the other, she slid a burger in, and deftly put it on a plate next to the salad.

"Come and get it folks! Add your own bits and pieces to taste." she instructed. "There's mustard, relish, everything."

A loose queue formed. I nudged my new friend.

"You look comfortable. Can I fetch you a burger?"

"Not yet thanks. I'll have another whisky."

He reached for the bottle but I grabbed it first.

"Here you are. Shall I get you some ice?"

"Never put anything in Macallan."

"You're quite right."

"Will you have one with me?"

"Thanks."

(I thought you'd never ask!)

The wounded soldier returned. His new nurse had bandaged his hand.

"It's a quite a nasty burn!" she trilled.

He looked a bit sheepish, and she looked like she wanted to kiss it better. She came and joined us.

"Get up you lazy pig, and get me a burger - lots of salad."

Mr Macallan sighed and gave me a wink.

I watched Charles and Tabby surreptitiously, up until going home time. There was not a touch or a look. He flirted with the other women more than her. An outsider would say there was no evidence of an affair, but I'd seen enough to be convinced. Time to pretend I had another trip.

Chapter 4

"Frank's sending me to York on Wednesday."

"Three weeks in a row!"

"Sorry, it's important."

"No problem."

She was right, it wasn't a problem. Not yet anyway. What I'd really done was taken a day's holiday.

Tuesday night I was packing. Something was missing.

"Have you seen my reading glasses babe?"

"No."

"Shit! I've just remembered I last had them at Charles' house. I put them on when browsing through his books."

"Shall I call him?" she offered.

"No, it's ok. I need to buy more toothpaste anyway. I'll go round and get them."

Tabby looked uneasy.

"Bob, I wasn't expecting you!"

(No? I'll bet Tabby called you.)

"Sorry to intrude Charles, but I think I left my reading glasses in your library."

"Come on in. Would you like a beer?"

"Thanks."

We found my glasses next to 'The Stand'; where I'd left them. We had a beer and I asked if I could use his toilet.

"It's ok. I remember where it is from Saturday."

While I relieved myself, I also remembered he'd said he hardly ever used the downstairs toilet. I opened the top section of the frosted glass window; just a tiny crack. It was not big enough to allow a person through, even if it had been wide open. I visually measured the distance from there to the handle of the main window. I flushed, and we said our goodbyes. I remembered to buy toothpaste on the way home.

Chapter 5

Tabby left for work with the usual 'Love you's and 'Take cares'. I added a 'Be good' but it went over her head. Instead of going to work, I drove over to the next town and went shopping. I found everything I needed in a charity shop, pottered around till lunchtime, and came back to our town, where I bought a couple of new shirts and ties.I ate in KFC, not far from Charles' house.

When I'd finished, I went to their toilets and emerged in my second hand clothes. I walked round to the street behind Charles' place, and headed up the pathway to his road. I was wearing a nondescript jogging outfit, a cap, and a pair of cheap trainers. I was still carrying my overnight bag. I climbed over his six foot back fence and dropped into the garden out of sight. Down the side of the house the toilet window was still open a little. Just as well, I didn't really have an alternative plan.

I got my secret weapon out of the bag. It was crude, just a straightened out coat hanger. Now, with the gloves on, I opened the small window, and pushed the wire inside. It hooked the handle of the bigger window and opened it. I climbed in and shut both windows tight. My first port of call was the library, where I selected one of Charles' golf clubs. I've never played, so have no idea what it was. But it was heavy, and had a lot of metal on the business end.

Then I checked out his bedroom. Apparently, Tabby was expected soon. Two of his fancy cushions were now on the floor at the foot of the bed. They were just the right distance apart for someone's knees. The third was on the end of the bed. Was it something to bite perhaps?

I went back down to the library. They'd never seen these clothes before; just the balaclava to put on. I looked in the mirror; unrecognisable. Putting the cap on, over the balaclava, altered the shape of my head. Soon Charles' car pulled up. They'd left work early; eager to get down to business while the idiot boyfriend was away. I gripped the golf club, hoping I wouldn't have to use it just yet.

I could hear them in the kitchen; a bottle was opened.

"Mmm, I love Pinot Grigio!" Tabby enthused.

"Me too, but mostly I love everything under your panties. And I want it all right now!"

"Well don't take too long for your first go, Bob may ring soon, telling me he's arrived."

I waited till they had closed the bedroom door, and tiptoed upstairs. I thought I could hear them getting undressed. This was confirmed when I heard him say: "You can leave your stockings on." I didn't even know she possessed a pair. I hoped I was going to get the timing right. When I opened the door a little, I saw exactly what I was expecting.

Tabby was kneeling on the cushions and bent over the end of the bed, her arse high up in the air. As instructed, she was only wearing stockings. Her head was on the third cushion. On the bed, next to her head, was a mobile phone. I'd seen her cunt before; but not the phone. Ah... waiting for her ever-loving fiancé to call from a York hotel.

Charles was naked and sporting an erection. I can't say it was anything special. His hands were also occupied; helping her to hold the target open. He was going to notice me any moment. I got halfway towards him, before he turned.

"What...?"

I didn't answer; I wasn't in the mood for difficult questions. He half rose, with his dick pointing straight at me. For a split second, I found that sight quite offensive; funny what goes through your head in extreme moments. What went through his head was the club. I'd swung it, and it connected just between his eye and ear. He staggered backwards and crumpled to the floor, landing so he was leaning against a chest of drawers, legs wide open. There was some oozing blood, but that was no problem. None of it got on me.

Tabby was still unaware what was happening. I swung the club again, this time into Charles' balls; ther was a definite pop. He said nothing; probably unconscious. I dropped the club. As Tabby started to turn towards me, I hooked my hands around her waist and threw her to one side. I hadn't planned on hurting her; in fact I'm not sure what I did intend, but fate intervened. She crashed to the floor, landing alongside him. They looked weird, sitting side by side.

Closer inspection revealed she'd hit her head on a wooden drawer handle. Nothing too serious; it had only dazed her; her eyelids fluttered and she groaned. She looked at me, her stare was glazed and stupid. I squatted and passed her the golf club. She instinctively took it and lowered it to her lap, smearing some of Charles' blood over her stocking tops. She closed her eyes again. I don't think she'd seen me properly. I stood and stared at them - sprawled side by side, with their legs wide apart. There was no blood, around Charles' groin. It just looked swollen and purple.

This had worked out better and much quicker than I'd hoped. With the lovers out of action, I found over two hundred pounds in Charles' wallet, and took the lot. Then retrieved Tabby's mobile phone and had a look at it. I'd never handled one before, but understood 'Contacts'. Charles was the only one. I went downstairs, removing the balaclava and gloves. A quick check in the mirror ensured there was no blood. I went back to the downstairs toilet.

If this next part did not work, I'd have to take leave via the front door. I opened the main window and climbed out. I lowered the handle to just above the point where it would drop. Then slammed the window shut. The handle fell into place, closing it. Well, it always worked when I was a kid.

I removed the SIM card and battery from the phone, and discarded it and balaclava and gloves into the canal. In KFC I changed back into my normal clothes, ordered a coffee to go, and drove home.

Chapter 6

A removal company sent some packing boxes round. I waited till five thirty before phoning Tabby's place of work. No, she'd left early. I called her mum, then her brother; they hadn't seen her. I tried her office again and got a straggler in Charles' department. No, there was no late project work; he had left early. At seven, I rang the local hospital.

Yes, they were just about to call me; they had a Tabitha Poulter, in with a head wound. I rushed to the hospital, where the police were already waiting. They wanted to speak to me but let me visit her first. There was little point though, as she'd been sedated. The police officers ushered me to a quiet corner.

"I'm DS Carter, and this is DC Burton." said the male officer, indicating the female with a nod. "We need to ask you where you were today Mr Poulter."

"And I need to know what happened to my wife. The medics will only give me vague details."

"Sorry." said DC Burton. "We are not at liberty to divulge anything at this stage."

"Look, my wife and I are moving house this weekend. Today, I took a day off and started packing. This afternoon I went over to Colliers and bought shirts, for my new job in Bristol. Came back here, ate in KFC and went home."