Tgi Chronicles Pt 1 Ch 03

I must have fallen asleep for a while once my crying had subsided. I came to and the bedside clock said it was a quarter to one. I just kicked off my shoes and slid under the duvet. I woke up next at quarter past seven as a crumpled heap.

I sat up in bed and found I had a pounding headache. I went down to the kitchen, purposely ignoring the love note and rose on the table, knowing I was trying not to look at them. I put the kettle on for a cup of tea and looked for the paracetamol. I swallowed two tablets, dry. When the kettle boiled I made a pot of tea and sat down. Bravely I pushed the note and flower to one side.

I poured myself a cup of tea, and thought the teapot was far too big for one person. I guess I'm going to have to get a smaller one. It never seemed too big when Beth had been away on business, or that time when she went to stay with her parents. She'd gone, with my encouragement, when they were so upset that her brother Stephen had come out as being gay. I don't thing the homosexuality had upset George and Mary as much as the possible pink lifestyle, as they imagined it, and the certainty of no grandchildren from Stephen. I stared at the teapot, is this what my life is going to be like? A series of little things constantly reminding me of what I've lost, of what I once had. Oh I hope not.

Then I pondered my long hours of sleep. That was a surprise. I didn't expect a good night's sleep for weeks or months or maybe never again. And then on the very first night I had hours of dreamless sleep. Was my collapse into total crying and sobbing a cathartic period that will let me move on, and at least sleep at night? Or was it just the result of mental and physical exhaustion, and that it will be troubled nights from here on in? I guess I'll find out.

My head was still hurting. I thought it's a little late to have a hangover from Thursday's lunch with Perry. Maybe its stress. Then some inner voice said, 'or maybe its hunger!' I thought about that. I don't think I'd eaten a thing since Thursday breakfast, and that was only two slices of toast. My last real meal was on Wednesday night. Yes, my headache could be hunger, I answered that inner voice.

I looked at what was in the fridge. Not a lot. No surprise, Friday night is shopping night. Often we meet Phil and Denny there, and can, if no one's bought anything frozen that needs to be got back to the freezer, have a Chinese or Indian with them.

Phil is my best friend. We were at university together, although he was training as a vet, a long way from my mathematics course. But we were both cricketers and became firm friends. He was my best man when I married Beth. There she is again, she comes into every one of my trains of thought. Anyway, Phil had a girlfriend, Denny. She was in Beth's year, but I don't think they knew each other very well. Then they got married. Then they came to stay here for a weekend just after we moved in, and they loved the place. Six month's later Phil had got himself the job of junior vet at the local practice. Slowly, over the years, Beth and Denny have got to become very close friends as well. So we make, or made, a happy foursome.

I would phone him this morning, but it was still a bit early for that. I poured another cup of tea, and put some bread in the toaster. It wasn't much to eat, but better than nothing, and I didn't feel like searching out food from the freezer, or cooking for that matter.

After my meagre breakfast I went for a stroll round the garden. The fresh air was good. Then that bloody rose came into view. I walked up to it. I swung my foot back. I swung it forward with the full intention of kicking the bloody thing so hard it would enter the earth's orbit. But then I had second thoughts and tried to stop my swinging foot. I ended up flat on my back. But what was the point of taking my anger out on a rose bush? It had never done me any harm. I got up and laughed at myself.

I went and had a shower, a shave and a change of clothes. I felt better for doing so. Afterwards, I went into the sitting room. It was no happier a place than it had been the night before. I determinedly turned every photograph on the little alcove table over so they lay face down. That was better.

Then I did nothing.

I thought lots of dark and evil thoughts. Revenge? Murder? Contract Killing? Maybe just a little gentle maiming? Maybe have her raped?

I forced myself to think civilised thoughts. I wondered if there was a way back for me and Beth. Maybe she wouldn't want one. I wanted one, but didn't think it was possible.

Then the questions started to arrive. Had she lied? She said she had never lied to me. But surely that story about Thursday afternoon was lies? Why hadn't I noticed? Surely she would have shown some signs of her new lifestyle? Who had started it, him or her? Had he used his money to tempt her? Was the business trip to Rhodes really a business opportunity, or a chance for a holiday together? Had she delayed coming off the pill because of Ken or because she really did doubt about having a family? I wonder what went on in Ken and Jean's life? I wonder what will happen to them now? I wonder how Beth's parents will react? I think they grew to be rather fond of me, I guess their daughter's behaviour will be a bit of a shock.

Eventually, I thought it a respectable time to phone Phil. I used his cell phone number. He answered promptly.. "Hi Tim. I'm glad you phoned. You should know that Beth is here."

"Oh, she went to you did she? I thought she'd go to her parents."

"She will if I've got anything to do with it. I don't know what's going on between you two, but I don't want anyone to think we are taking sides. I think Denny felt obliged last night, but she agrees with me, she's got to move on this morning."

"I don't blame you, and I promise you, I don't think your taking sides. Or not yet anyway. I just wanted to ask if you're around at lunchtime."

"Er, let me think. Yes, I can be. I've got the Saturday morning surgery to do, but that's really 'emergencies only'. So I'll be free by twelve easily. Where?"

"How about the Magpie?"

"You've got to be joking. Make it the Red Lion and you're on."

"Red Lion it is then. Twelve. See ya."

---

I arrived early at the Red Lion. Ordered myself a glass of red wine. I don't normally drink wine in pubs, but I wanted to remain very sober for this flat viewing and Charlie and Rose, and I could make a glass of wine last a lot longer than a pint of beer.

Phil arrived not long after I'd sat down. I stood up and got him a pint. We both sat down and looked at each other in silence.

Eventually I spoke, "What did she tell you?"

"Not much. You two have been having problems. It all blew up yesterday morning and you suddenly called her a lot of nasty names and threw her out without even talking to her properly."

"That's all?"

"Yeah, basically. We got back from the supermarket at about nine, and there she was, sitting in her car, all upset and in tears, saying you'd thrown her out. We got her inside, and then it was an evening of whispered conversations in the kitchen between Denny and myself as to what we were going to do with this wreck in the living room. I've never seen her like it, I don't think I've ever seen any woman like it. She was so upset. Denny said we couldn't throw her out. I said we had to get her to go back to you, I offered to phone you which set her off again. In the end she slept in the spare bedroom. She wasn't up by the time I left for surgery, but Denny is under strict orders to get her off to her parents by lunchtime."

"Will she go?"

"Looking at the state of her last night, I wonder whether she will be fit to drive. I said to Denny, maybe we should call her father to come and collect her. Why won't you have her back? You can't sort whatever it is out long distance."

"I'll talk to her in good time, but not for a few days. I think we both need some time to calm down and think things through."

"Well, you two do seem to have got yourselves into a right old pickle, as my Mum would say."

He drank a large part of his pint in one go. I was just sitting staring at nothing in particular. Then I realised I was staring at a couple at the corner table. They were youngish, he on one side of the table, she on the other. Just drinking and chatting. Then it struck me. A eureka moment.

"Phil, what are that couple in the corner doing?"

He glanced round briefly. "They're drinking. This is a pub you know."

"Yes, smarty pants, I know that. What else are they doing?"

He looked round a bit longer this time, but the couple didn't notice us looking at them. "My guess is they're flirting, why?"

"Exactly. I know they're flirting. You know they're flirting. Yet, if we were in a witness box, all we could say is they are a couple sitting on opposite sides of a pub table. She seems to have an OJ. He's got a pint, about half drunk. She's sitting fairly upright, her legs tucked together and to one side. He's lounging back with his legs straight out in front of him. They seem to be talking amicably. Right?"

"Yes, I suppose so. She might be drinking a screwdriver."

"True. But we know they're flirting. Its all in the body language."

"Yes, I suppose so. Why?"

"Nothing. Just something that's been troubling me for a couple of days."

Phil stood up, "Do you want another glass of red wine to cuddle? Or are you going to drink that one?"

"No get yourself one, but leave me out."

While Phil was away at the bar, I pondered Beth's lack of telling Phil and Denny the whole truth. Maybe she was too upset. Maybe she wasn't prepared to tell her best friend what she had been up to. What I didn't like...no what I really hated.. was the suggestion that somehow this was a sort of mutual fault, that I was partly to blame, that I was the bad guy that called her names and threw her out quite unreasonably. I was going to put that right. And sooner rather than later.

When Phil came back from the bar with his pint and a packet of salted peanuts, I asked him "Phil, can I tell you something without it getting back to Denny or Beth. I don't want to put her on the spot."

"Yes. Partly. And you won't."

"Pardon?"

"Yes you can tell me something, but it will get back to Denny, and no it won't get back to Beth if you don't want it to. And you won't put Denny, or me for that matter, on the spot. Denny and I discussed this possibility over breakfast. We talked of little else, except for the two hours last night trying to guess what's up between you two. Anyway, we have decided that whatever you or Beth tell me or Denny will be shared between us. What we will do, however, is promise that it goes no further from either of us. We are not going to carry messages or play piggy in the middle."

"Oh.! I see. Actually I don't blame you. It sounds good sense to me. Well done. I'll try to respect that."

"You won't have an option. Do you want some peanuts?" He held out the packet, ready to shake some into my hand.

"No thanks." I said, and actually took a sip of my wine.

Phil was a good friend and so was Denny, but I'd changed my mind, I won't tell them the truth yet. I think I prefer that Beth tells them. Let's see if she can be totally honest for once. That led me to my next train of thought, "Do you think Beth always tells the truth?"

"Good question. Yes and no."

"Elaborate." I sat back to listen, I knew Phil would give me a full answer to an open question like that.

"Well, one of the wonderful things about Beth, one of the things I really like, is that she is always so positive. She always finds the nice thing to say. If we give her something to eat that really she hates, when asked she'll say 'The sauce was nice' or 'I loved what you did with the potatoes'. She'll find a way out of an awkward question with a good, positive comment. I guess it's her professional training. Her job is to put a good spin on things, that's why their spin doctors."

"So your saying that she doesn't answer the question, but she doesn't lie?"

Phil took another handful of peanuts, then he turned the packet over and became engrossed in the back of it. I was about to remind him that I'd just asked a question when he looked up. "Its like this packet of peanuts. It says on the front '15% less fat.' Less than what might be a good question. Less than this brand was last week I guess. But, I've just looked it up. They are nearly 50% fat by weight. They are full of salt, and yes, they've got lots of protein in them. But, anyone seeing this packet is meant to believe 'Hey, these peanuts are good and healthy for me. I know they are full of protein, but now they've taken away the unhealthy fat. I'll have some of those' In fact they are salt laden, oil rich heart attacks in a packet, but that isn't such a good slogan." He stopped and looked at me. "But they do taste nice" he said as he emptied the remaining few nuts into his mouth.

I sat quietly, thinking about what he had said, and took another sip of wine.

He waited for me to respond, and when I didn't, he went on, "Look, Beth is very professional in her job, I suspect she is really good at it. She has to respond with the accurate, truthful best case under tremendous stress sometimes. She has to stand up at press conferences, sometime with the cameras rolling, and the '15% less fat' answer has to roll off the tongue as if it is the complete and only fact about these peanuts that's worth reporting. And I bet she does it bloody well. Don't knock her for it. Be proud."

We sat in silence and he finished his second pint.

"Your thirsty today." I observed "Do you want another one?"

He stared at his empty glass for some moments. "I guess its nerves, I was quite..." he searched for the word "...concerned... about what I would find when I walked in here this morning."

"You shouldn't have been. You should know that I wasn't going to scream or shout. Well not at you, anyway."

"I was thinking back as I drove here. You nursed me through being dumped by the love of my life several times before I found Denny. I don't think I ever had to do that for you, ever."

I thought for a moment "You're probably right. The only time I was really dumped, and it was from a great height, was in the long vac, and you weren't around.. Well?"

"Well what?"

"Do you want another pint?"

"Only if you can drive me home. I can then pick up my car later."

"I'll take that as a Yes then." I stood up and went to the bar. When I got back with his pint, Phil was missing. I expected him to return from the direction of the Gents. He came in the front door again. "Where have you been?"

"Talking to Denny. I hate phoning from the bar, it isn't fair on everyone else. She's got Beth off to her parents. Apparently it was only the threat of Denny phoning her father to collect her that made her go though."

"Oh."

"So, Denny is coming down here. She just wants to see you. To inspect you I think. But she's taking a taxi down so you won't have to give me a lift home. I hope that's OK?"

I wasn't sure I wanted to see Denny, not just yet. But it looked like I wasn't going to get an option. "Sure, I'm always pleased to see Denny."

"Liar."

"The only time I'm not is when I have to deliver you back home pissed. She always blames me. And she can be quite frightening to a simple lad like me."

He let that pass. I suddenly realised I was hungry. I guess talking to an old friend had relaxed me enough to actually let me feel my body for the first time in days. "When she gets here, perhaps we could have something to eat."

"That's what you'll miss. No home cooking."

We made small talk until Denny arrived. Then we ordered some food. Denny kept giving me and Phil questioning looks, but beyond saying how sorry she was that Beth and myself were having problems, and how she was sure it would all blow over, nothing more of importance was said. We finished our meal, and left with kisses and hugs in the car park. For them to show sympathy I guess.

I drove home. I was pleased that I had broken the ice with Phil and Denny. Maybe especially Denny. I had known I would have no problem with Phil, he was too old and trusted a friend. But Denny was a woman, and really she was Beth's friend. Two reasons that had made me wonder how she would treat me. Another hurdle over.

The house remained a dismal reminder. As I went into the hall, for the first time I noticed that it smelled of a home I had once known. A home with a happy married couple living there. Pity it wasn't one now.

I went upstairs and showered again. I'd heard, somewhere, that some women, after they've been raped, wash and scrub themselves time after time, trying to wash away the rape. Maybe I felt a bit like that, dirty, sullied. I don't know. I just know that I wanted to shower.

Not long after that Rose phoned to say that it was a very quiet day at Symmonds & Burtons, could she bring our appointment forward? I was happy to do so, and within fifteen minutes I was getting into her car. Rose was one of those instantly likeable people. Bubbly and fun, but with a strong current of sensitivity. You know your in safe hands, but there will be some jokes along the way. Almost before we were out of my drive she tackled THE subject, "Sorry to hear about what has brought you to look for a flat, Tim."

"It wasn't your fault. I'm grateful that you thought of me with this one."

"Well, I used to be a reconciliation counsellor. My advice is to think hard before you do anything. Quick decisions have a habit of coming back at you and biting."

"I'm beginning to realise that already."

"Why? What have you done."

"Yesterday I threw Beth out. It was an angry, instant response. But I now realise it was a mistake."

"Well, I expect you can put it right. Have you talked to her?"

"Oh! No! I don't mean that I regret us splitting. I hate it, but I still think that that was the right thing to do. But I wanted to throw her out, I wanted to make her be inconvenienced. Why should I move when I've done nothing wrong? Or that's what I thought. But it means that I'm the one that is living surrounded by everything from our life together. There are memories wherever I look, with whatever I touch. She's back in the safe neutral ground of her parents. She should be suffering the pain of our house as an empty shell. She should understand what she's done."

"I am sure she is learning that fast. Don't worry, she'll be suffering. Unless she was mentally out of the marriage already?"

I didn't answer. That idea raised horrid thoughts. We sat in silence for the rest of the way.

River Mead is a wide 19th century avenue that runs down to the river, parallel to the High Street. It's made up of large, detached houses. The road, when it gets to the river, turns sharp right into a small lane that follows the river for a while, and then cuts back to the High Street. Trafalgar House was the large house on that corner, next to the river and with the little lane going up its side. There was a large, nearly new Range Rover in the drive. The house was a building site, with scaffolding partially covering it and piles of sand and boards around. To the river side of the house was a tall thin two story building, with a garage door at the road end. It would create a generously double length garage. Attached to it, on the river side was a single story flat roofed garage that also seemed to run the double length. The other side wall of this extension garage made the boundary wall of the property, onto the little riverside lane. There was some iron work on this flat roofed bit, probably to soften the sharp contrast of flat roof and the two story original building. Between the side of the house and the garage block was a wide passageway. I noticed that neither the house or garage block had any windows facing out onto this area. However on the blank brink wall of the garage was an attractive wrought iron staircase that led up to a little iron work porch with a single door into the top floor. I assumed this was into the flat.