A wayward wife has to be dealt with. But things are not always as clear cut as they seem to be.
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"How about a quick apero before we go to the restaurant?"
"We've got time," I responded with a smile, the table I'd booked for us, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor, not being till a little later on that evening.
Truth was that the Taylor marriage was in trouble, and the possibility of a quiet chat before our meal might just be a good idea. Things had got worse since young Tom had left home to start his studies at university, but she'd so far avoided all my attempts to have a serious talk about things.
Silly me!
Before I could suggest anything more suitable, she'd beckoned me to follow her, and having no other option, found myself waltzing into the loudest, glitziest joint in town; the Bluebell bar no less.
I thought we might maybe be able to find a quiet corner anyway, so that
I could make her understand the seriousness of her actions.
Silly me!
At forty eight she was still a real looker, and was dressed to display what she had to perfection. Women of her age shouldn't maybe wear dresses that short, unless you had legs like hers that is, in which case why wouldn't she? I'd known her all my life since I'd been a child in fact, and she'd always dressed well, but this last year or so, classy had definitely veered towards slutty.
"Look who's arrived," I heard come from a big group who'd put a few tables together. "It's Jenny Taylor."
"Hi Jenny," came calls from several of them, which she responded to, as she left my side and walked over to join them, apparently forgetting to introduce me, despite the fact that I didn't know a single one of them.
One of the men pulled up a chair for her and settled her into the middle of the group, while I looked around for a spare chair, and not finding one, was left standing on the edge of the crowd. A couple of them did glance up at me, no doubt wondering who the hell I was, while the sudden centre of attention, Jenny, seemed to forget I was even there.
Ten minutes was enough, and only that long because it took that long to catch here eye and angrily tap the watch on my wrist to remind her we had a table booked.
What a waste of time that was, as with a dismissive wave of her hand she turned back to the guy who had been talking to her.
She'd never exactly been what you'd think of as a perfect wife, or for that matter, a decent mother. Still, it wasn't that easy to turn my back on so many years and walk out on her.
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The meal wasn't too bad all things considered, though I'd hardly expected to be eating it on my own. When I'd walked out, I don't think she'd even noticed, though I did wonder whether the burst of laughter as I left, was related to me leaving.
My hope that she might join me proved wrong, but just as I was finishing up she did call me.
"Where are you?" She demanded brusquely
"At the restaurant where you should be," I snarled back.
