Regrets

Regrets, I have a few.

But unlike the song, where it states, too few to mention. In my case, my mistakes are of my own making, many in number, and mostly ones I'm deeply ashamed of.

Before I start on telling my tale of woe, I'll just give you a brief glimpse into who I am and my situation at the onset.

My name is Cheryl; I'm a twenty-two year old, 5' 7" blond with a 38-26-38 figure. I'm married to Garry, he's thirty-three, 5' 11" slight build, but with a volatile temper. And this temper was something I never found out about until after we'd married. But in these last two years since our wedding day, I've been on the receiving end of his fists over a dozen times. Once, being so badly bruised, I'd had to ring in sick, blaming my two week absence on a bout of influenza.

I guess like most people, you're thinking, Stupid Cow. If things are that bad, just walk out and leave him.

But anyone who is in the same situation as me will know, it isn't that simple.

I love him.

And I know he loves me.

It isn't really his fault, it's usually mine. I'll do something wrong (not intentionally) or forget to do something I've promised to do, and it will annoy him. It isn't his fault he's got a short fuse. And he's always sorry afterwards.

Well I won't dwell on this part of my relationship with my Garry, but I mentioned it in passing, as it goes some way to explaining my actions; the actions this story is about, and the great regret of my life.

It was not long after I'd had the two weeks sick leave to recover from a beating, when I was called into the office. They explained the company was down-sizing, and after reviewing my absentee record, they regretfully were going to have to let me go.

This in itself didn't go down well with Garry, and in no time, the lack of my wage was soon making our household finances very tight. So first thing to go was my car. But even though Garry didn't need his car to get to work, there was no way he'd allow me to use it. Consequently, it was only insured for him, as it had been before I sold my car.

I guess even that was understandable; I had been on his insurance when we first wed, and I twice damage his alloy wheels by parking to close to the kerb. You see, his car is his pride and joy; a tuned-up Ford RS.

So now my story starts, it's a wet Thursday, I'm still out of work, and I'm feeling really down. I've got to go into town, and it's a ten minute walk to the bus-stop where there is no shelter. The bus timetable is a fairytale book, so I'll no doubt have to wait anything up to an hour for the bus.

So mistake number one.

My Garry's car is in the garage, and his keys are on the bed-side table. It seemed such an innocent thing to do. Yes, I knew it was wrong. And yes, I realise now how serious it is driving without insurance.

But, at the time, as I blasted that guided missile through the B roads of Leicestershire, it felt sublime. All my depressive feelings melted away, and I began to sing along to the New Model Army CD.

So as I entered the outskirts of Leicester, I dropped down to the speed limits, conscious I couldn't afford to attract any police attention. I arrived at the supermarket, and just as I was about to turn into the entrance to the car-park, a car coming down the road from the apposing direction, cut across the road directly in front of me, causing me to take avoiding action.

I swerved left, they swerved right, and we both stopped. Our cars hadn't touched, but it really shook me up. As I glared across, the woman in the other car gestured I should go first. This was really the only option, as I'd been slightly ahead of her when we'd both turned in, so my car was blocking her passage.

So up comes mistake number two.

I was frustrated and angry, and so wanting to show this stupid woman just what kind of powerful car she was dealing with. I floored the accelerator, and dumped the clutch. Big mistake!

I'd been in the car as a passenger when my Garry had done this very same manoeuvre. And when he did it, it would pin me into my seat, whilst the car would take-off like a scalded cat in a cloud of tyre smoke, and screeching noise.

Well I got the tyre smoke, and screeching noise. And I guess it took-off like a scalded cat. But as it threw me back into my seat, the steering-wheel was wrenched from my grip. The car shot off across the car-park, narrowly missing a parked car. I did my best to re-gain control, and I hit the brakes.

But as the car skidded to a standstill, there was an almighty bang. The front right-hand side of the car leapt skyward, and then came down to a standstill with a sickening crash. I wasn't hurt; it wasn't as if I'd collided with a wall or anything which had brought the car to a sudden halt throwing me forwards.

But I knew by the noise and way the car had leapt into the air, that the front wheel had sustained damage; but to what degree I could only imagine. My previous mood of anger had now been substituted by despair, resulting in me dropping my face in my hands as I sobbed onto the steering-wheel.

And then through my fit of self-pity, I heard a voice accompanied by a rapping on the driver's window. I couldn't hear or understand what he was saying, so I dropped the glass.

"Are you alright? Do you need an ambulance?"

It was the supermarket security man.

I gathered my wits, and through tear filled eyes replied, "I'm sorry. I think my foot slipped off the clutch pedal. I haven't hurt anyone? Have I?"

"No. But are you alright?"

"Yes. I think so. I'm just a little shaken up. But something exploded in front of my car!"

"Yes, you ran into a raised kerb. It's one of the shrub planters. You're not the first one to miss seeing them. But I've never seen anyone run into one at such speed. I guess you're new to the car and it ran away with you?"

"It's my husband's car. I rarely drive it."

"Well you won't be driving it much more today. It's totally destroyed your wheel. And the explosion you heard. That was your tyre exploding. It sure went with a bang."

As I realised the damage I'd done, and the consequent cost. The repercussions that awaited me when Garry found out struck home. My face dropped into my hands and I again started to sob.

"Hey now, come on. It's only a wheel and tyre. Nobody was hurt. A couple of pages of insurance forms, and it'll be good as new."

I tried to reply, but the despair I was feeling robbed me of rational responses.

"Come-on love. It's not that bad. Look, you get out and go get yourself a nice cup of tea in the cafeteria, and leave me the keys. I'll park the car up, and fit your spare wheel for you."

So without thinking about the consequences of just handing the keys to my Garry's precious car over to a total stranger, I climbed out, and made my way to the cafeteria in the supermarket. I'm not sure how long I sat staring in my empty coffee-cup, but I was in a world of my own; trying to think how I could get myself out of this mess.

I was suddenly brought back to reality as the security man dropped the keys on the table, "Ok luv, it's done. But you'll have to take it steady. The spare on that thing of yours is only rated at forty miles per hour, and it's only got a legal range of fifty miles."

I was shaken from my trance, and I tried to get my head around what he was saying, "I don't understand. Is there a problem with the spare wheel?"

"Not a problem as such. But like lots of high powered cars, the alloy wheels and tyres are too wide to fit into the space where the spare is supposed to fit. So they use a silly little get-you-home wheel and tyre."

"Oh shit!"

"Pardon."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't swear. But what you're saying is my husband will know instantly as soon as he sees the car?"

"Well yes. It stands out a mile. Is that a problem?"

"Yes. It's his car, and since I damaged one of his wheels two years ago, he's taken me off the insurance, and won't let me drive it. So I'll have to get a new wheel and tyre today without him knowing."

"Well if you're trying to get it back to how it was without your husband knowing? A new wheel and tyre would be just as obvious."

I hadn't thought about that, and so now knowing there was no way out, my face went back into my open palms, and I resumed my crying. I was oblivious as to whether he was still there, or not.

But after what must have been a good five minutes or more, I heard him say, "I'm sorry luv, but if I can't be of any more help, I'd better go and get on with my duties."

I looked up, and through tear soaked eyes, said, "Thank you for your help, but I'll be alright. You just go; I don't want to get you into any trouble."

So off he went, and I just sat there not knowing what to do next. I guess I'd been sitting there for over half an hour, when I noticed the same man walking back towards my table. I lifted my head, and tried to put on a brave smile; but I'm sure it must have looked fake.

He opened with, "I've just had an idea." He had a big beaming smile on his face, and he looked excited. "I've got a pal who works in a scrap yard. Only these days, they don't call them scrap yards, they're called re-claimed parts suppliers. I could give him a call, and he might be able to find a replacement wheel and tyre."

He obviously saw my confused expression, as I still couldn't see how that would help.

So he continued with, "The wheel won't be brand-new, and if he can find one with the same make of tyre, your husband will never know it's not the original one. Even if the tyre is slightly more or even less worn, I'm sure he won't notice."

As the logic of his idea sunk in, my face must have lit-up, because he continued with, "Wow! That's better. I knew there'd be a pretty face in there somewhere once you started to smile. So do you want me to give Ken a call?"

"Oh yes please."

And then as I remembered my financial situation, my smile must have dropped as I asked, "But how much will it cost?"

"Hey come-on. You can't let that smile go so quickly. What ever it costs, it'll be a lot cheaper than buying a new one. Hang on I'll give him a call. Oh, do you know what year the car is?"

"No. I think all the documents for it are at home."

"It's ok; I'll get all I need from the registration plate. I'll go out to the car park and call Ken from there. Back soon."

His soon seemed like an age, but when he came back, I could tell from his face, the news wasn't going to be good.

"I've spoken to Ken, and he's checked on the computer around all the yards in Leicestershire, but you're out of luck. The nearest one is in a yard up near Derby. But again, there's a problem."

"What?"

"They've got all four wheels and tyres, but he's phoned the guy, he'll only sell them as a set."

"How much?"

"Five Hundred."

"Oh my God!"

"That's cheap really. I mean, the new tyres alone would be around two hundred apiece. And new wheels would be about the same. So a set of four would be over a grand and a half."

"But I can't get anywhere near five hundred without my husband knowing."

"Well there's only one way I can think of then."

"And that is?"

"Drive up to his yard, let him see you in person, and explain how desperate you are."

"But what good will that do?"

"Don't underestimate your charms. A pretty girl like you could sweet-talk a man into anything."

"What are you suggesting?"

"Hey don't get up-tight! I wasn't suggesting anything untoward. I just mean, a man will bend over backwards to help a pretty girl in distress."

"Well the idea is no good anyway, I couldn't even think of driving as far as Derby; especially as you said that wheel isn't safe over fifty miles."

"Well the wheel would probably get you there and back; I think the mileage is just a safety get-out clause they use to cover themselves. But are you saying you couldn't drive that far?"

"I told you, I'm not insured."

"Well yes. I know you shouldn't be on the road at all; but I thought being as you drove here."

"And that was a mistake."

"Look, I know this is a long shot, but from where I'm looking, you don't have many options open to you."

"But all the way to Derby, what if I get pulled up by the police?"

"Well like I said a second ago, that pretty smile can make men go the extra mile for you."

"Maybe, but it wouldn't stop a policeman from booking me."

"No; but my shift ends in twenty minutes, and my insurance covers me to drive any other vehicle. So I could drive you up there. It isn't strictly legal, because really speaking I need your husband's permission. But with you in the car, I'm sure the plods wouldn't think it out of order."

"What? You'd drive me?"

"If you want me to?"

"Why?"

"Your smile."

"No seriously."

"I am being serious. You must be very naïve if you haven't yet realised how far men will go just to please a pretty girl like you."

"And what do you expect to get out of it?"

"A smile, a thank you, and if I'm very lucky, maybe a kiss."

"But I'm married."

"So? I'll settle for just the smile and the thank you."

"I'm not sure. I mean, don't get me wrong, but if I won't even promise you a kiss, I can't understand why you'd go out of your way for me."

"Sometimes, just feeling good about knowing you've helped someone is its own reward."

It all sounded innocent, and everything he'd done so far had been over and above what you might expect from a total stranger. But I still felt a little uneasy about accepting his offer. But contrary-wise, had I got any alternative?

"Well thank you. So long as you don't mind me not promising you any, you know. Sexual favours in return. Then I'll be grateful for your help."

"No conditions, no ulterior motives, and definitely no payment in-kind. Now you wait here, I'll go and hand over to the next shift, and be back in ten."

"Thank you."

So fifteen minutes later, he is walking towards the table where I'm sitting. And he's now dressed in his own clothes, that is as apposed to his store security officer's uniform. And for the first time, I see what a hunk of a man he is. His age is probably around the same as my Garry. And he's also of a similar height. But this man is broader in the shoulders and a good deal tighter in the tummy. Not that my Garry is fat, but he has started to develop a bit of a beer belly. But I shouldn't be noticing these kinds of features on other men, so I'll get back to the story.

So within a few minutes of his shift ending, we are on our way, with Ralph (the supermarket security man) behind the wheel of my husband's car. And just to keep my story accurate, as we'd both closed our doors, and he'd been busy adjusting his seat position, I'd reached across, taken his face in my hands, and kissed him. I hadn't planned to do it, but it was a sudden impulse as I looked across to him.

His reaction had been one of surprise. But even as he realised what I was doing, there was no return kiss to capitalise on my moment of vulnerability. Just a, "Wow! See I told you that fate has a way of re-paying good deeds."

"I know you deserve more than that, but I am happily married."

"I understand. Don't worry. And let's see the pretty smile you're going to use to win-over this scrap-yard man."

I smiled, and it wasn't faked. By now I was beginning to think maybe things would come right.

On the journey, we talked about general things, and at no time did he steer the conversation to anywhere that made me feel threatened. And so eventually, the car was parked in front of an old barn-type building with Andy's Used Car Parts painted on the side in big letters.

As we both got out of the car Ralph said, "Ok, let's go find Andy, and remember the big smile."

Inside the building he asked the man behind the counter, "Is Andy around?"

"He's out the back, hang on I'll go and get him."

We waited and in a minute or so the original man returned, followed by a man who looked about my dad's age (fiftyish).

As Andy saw Ralph he said, "I guess you're Ken. Come to buy the full set after all?"

"Wrong on both counts. I'm Ralph, Ken's mate. He was asking on my behalf. Or to be more accurate, on behalf of this lovely young girl."

"So I got your name wrong, but you've come for the set of alloys for an RS?"

"Well not really. You see, Cheryl here is in a real pickle."

"I hope you're not gonna give me a sob story."

"Well I was hoping you'd cut her a little slack."

By now my smile was gone, and I guess I was on the verge of tears.

Andy turned around and began to walk away, but as he reached the end of the serving counter, he paused, lifted up the section which allows access, and said, "Come on then, let's talk in my office."

We followed him through the stores, and outside across the yards to a Porta-Cabin. He sat one side of an old wooden desk, and Ralph and I sat the other. He said, "Come on then; let's hear it."

"All I know is, she drove into the car park of the supermarket where I work as a security guard, like she was being chased by the hounds of hell. But it turns out, it's hubby's car. And reading between the lines, it's my guess he's not the type to mop her tears and say never mind. I was just hoping if you saw the state she's in you might take pity on her. She's got to replace the wheel and tyre with one he won't think has been swapped."

"Well before we get into any negotiations, I guess I need to see what boots he's running and if the ones I've got match-up. You can wait here luv. We'll go take a look at your car."

So I sat and waited, and I'm guessing Ralph pleaded my case to Andy whilst they checked the wheels out. When they arrived back, Andy said, "I must be getting soft in my old age."

My heart lifted, and I asked excitedly, "Does that mean you're going to help me?"

"I'll probably never get a buyer for the three odd wheels I'll have left, and the tyre is the wrong make. So I've got to take one off another rim. But yes. Give me two hundred, and it's yours."

A lump came to my throat. He appeared to be, as Ralph had put it earlier, bending over backwards to help me. But even this wasn't enough to get me out of the hole I was in. And I hardly dare ask for what was needed.

He saw my look and asked, "Well? Ok, maybe you don't think I've earned a kiss like Ralph here. But I at least thought you'd be happy."

"I'm sorry. Please I am grateful. But I haven't got that kind of money."

"No problem. There's a hole-in-the-wall machine at the garage just half a mile up the road."

I dropped my head as I said, "I daren't take money out of our account. I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. I shouldn't have come."

"I see. So how were you thinking of paying?"

"I don't know. I never thought that far ahead. I'm sorry I wasted both of your times."

Andy and Ralph looked at each other, and Ralph said, "I could maybe stump up fifty, so long as she can pay me back."

"That's not the point. If she's strapped for cash now, finding two hundred notes to pay us back will only make her life more difficult. And even if you trust her; I've got a business to run. It's one thing going the extra mile to help, but two hundred notes is real money in anyone's book."

Ralph looked at me, "Sorry. I didn't realise your situation was so dire."

Then Andy turned in his seat, lent over to a filing cabinet, and pulled out a book. As he passed it to me he said, "Look. Don't go getting the wrong idea. It's all above board."

As I took hold, I realised it was a photograph album. As I opened it and began to turn the pages, I could see photo after photo of girls. One or two were naked, some were topless, but most of them just in swimwear or underwear. But even the naked girls were posed discreetly, with hands or other objects covering their strategic places. I guess I understood within the first two pages, that he was suggesting this as a way of me paying for the wheel, so that is why I kept turning the pages, to see how involved this would be. And completely out of what I'd have thought my reaction would be, I placed the book down and asked, "Did you take all of those?"