Not Just for Christmas Ch. 10-13

He watched them talking. He watched Bob's hand cover hers on the table, and saw she did not pull hers away. He watched as Bob put his hand on her knee, and saw her gently take it off and smile at him.

Bob seemed to be apologising for she laughed. Bob put it back and she left it there. He leant over to her and kissed her. Mike couldn't see if she kissed him back but her hands stayed on the table.

Mike always prided himself on his logical approach to life. He prided himself on his ability to subordinate his emotions to the logic of any situation. Not any more it seemed. Logically Claire had decided to break relationship with him. It was her right. He might find her reasoning suspect, nay ridiculous, but as a free individual she had a perfect right to do that. Any resentment at her being entertained by another man should have been suppressed. But it wasn't. No.

At that kiss Mike was gripped by deep anger. It was rage, a feeling of deep betrayal. He had to keep telling himself to calm down or he would have lost it and started a fight. His ire was directed solely at her; she, the one who had assured him of her love during the previous six months; she, who had given herself to him body and soul, and to whom he had pledged his love.

Here she was paddling palms with one of the worst wastrels anyone knew. Not just a wastrel but a parasite who begged money off the women he bedded. All he had to offer was a large penis, and they all fell over themselves to sample it, and here was Claire doing the same.

Mike saw them in his mind's eye at her house in her bed. He could imagine her feelings as his huge member stretched her, her exclamations that she had never felt so good. Mike was forgotten. Her lies about letting him go because she loved him were made all the more disgusting. In spite of these thoughts he did manage to keep his calm, but only just.

Then she looked up and saw him. Mike was intrigued by her expression as she realised he was there staring at her. She took Bob's hand off her knee. He could have sworn she looked guilty then annoyed.

She said something to Bob who turned and saw Mike. He looked worried. It was quite gratifying for Mike really. He made his way to their table. His face must have shown his true feelings, for he could have sworn there was fear on their faces. Perhaps worried that he would be violent or cause a scene?

He reached the table and stood over them. He ignored Claire for the moment.

"Hello Bob," he said smiling, but his stare was cold. "Out with your latest conquest? Another notch on the bedpost?"

"Look Mike," he began. "Don't make trouble. She's finished with you. She's with me now."

Claire made a movement at this but Mike was not really paying attention.

"I can see that, arse-hole," he said, his smile gone. "Have you told her about Adrienne, and Cloë, and Leah wasn't it, you know, the three married women you're shagging during the day while their husbands are at work? I noticed your affair with Claire here has been conducted during the day as well, I suppose so the kids don't find out?"

"How d'you know?" he wondered.

"Neighbours Bob, neighbours," Mike said. "You didn't have to be so careful with her, though, did you? No husband to take offence? And what about Cheryl, does she know you're screwing behind her back, not that she needs to be offended with what she gets up to."

"Cheryl?" he blustered, "I don't know what you mean."

"My ex-wife, arse-hole," he explained doggedly. "You know, the woman you're living with. So you're out clubbing with the latest woman to be intrigued by your big cock? Is she paying? Or is Cheryl funding this little outing? You've got no cash have you? You want to tell Claire about that, she may not want to be the latest addition to your harem!"

Now he turned to Claire. "So it was all a front. All those protestations of love, you were dumping me because you loved me? That's a laugh! It was really because you wanted some different cocks, and he's got a nice big one.

"Was it Tracy that told you he was hung? So the woman I thought had high ideals turns out to be a cock slut! I loved you so much, Claire, I worshipped you. I loved you when I first met you with all those bruises, I loved you when Gary had slashed your face and body, your appearance made no impression on that love.

"You think I'm so shallow that my feelings for you depend of a pretty face? Because that's what you told me. I would only stay out of a sense of duty, wasn't it? Loyalty? You stupid cow, loyalty can come out of love, a side effect.

"And these ideas were reinforced by three friends of Cheryl. Cheryl Claire, who had a grudge against you and your family! Oh, by the way, you know she visited Gary in the fortnight before he attacked you? After he tried to murder you she stopped visiting him. Did you never wonder who told Gary where you were?"

"But--" She tried to interrupt but Mike was on a roll.

"Well, when you didn't die, she turned you off me through her friends, including this one here. Did you never wonder why he suddenly turned up at your bedside? And now Cheryl's succeeded in putting me off you. Have a good life, Claire, the world is full of big cocks. Plenty to choose from."

He turned and left. Claire had not a chance to say anything, but he thought he heard her call him above the noise of the music. As he reached the door, he literally bumped into Tom and Tracy.

"Where are they?" Tom asked, scanning the room and finding his own answer. "Oh, they appear to be fighting. Time for Tracy and I to chat with them, eh?"

Then he looked at Mike's face and realisation dawned. "You've seen them, haven't you?"

"Yes," he said. "I've finished with that bitch. She can screw whoever she likes. Finished!"

He brushed past Tom and left. He got in the car and was about to drive away, when he decided to take some deep breaths. Just as well, it would have been foolish to drive out in his frame of mind. As he put the car in gear, he saw Claire, Tom and Tracy coming out of the club. Claire made as if to run towards his car, but he drove out and away.

It felt like a long drive to the haven that was his empty desolate house. He slumped into a chair and closed his eyes.

His thoughts went something like this: Why do I do it? Why get involved with people? I didn't look for her love, in fact I assumed she didn't love me. Then the children and my friends turned my mind to her and I fell. And for what? Now look at me. Angry. Lonely. Jealous. Resentful. And scarred for life!

He reached for the bottle of red wine, then put it down. Then picked it up again and poured a large glass. He lifted the glass to his lips and the doorbell rang. He cursed long and volubly: he'd left the gates open. He wandered to the door. It was Tom.

He stood back to let him in but Tom stood on the step. Mike cocked an eyebrow questioningly.

"Mike, I've got Claire in the car. She's very, very upset. Tracy is trying to comfort her but she's verging on the hysterical. Will you talk to her?"

"Sorry, Tom," he snapped. "I talked to the tart in the club. The truth hurts. She'll get over it and find another cock to enjoy."

"Come on, Mike! That's unworthy of you!"

"Why Tom, why do I have to be the worthy one? Have I fucked anyone since Claire dumped me? There you see, very worthy. But that slut in the car? Why should I care about her? Tell her to go home and look after her children."

"Mike!" he shouted angrily. Mike took a step back. He didn't remember Tom ever doing that before in all their years together. He stopped his tirade.

"Mike," he said again. "She couldn't believe what you'd said. All that info you gave her was a complete surprise. Bob, of course denied everything until Tracy confronted him. It didn't take long for Claire to realise she's made a dreadful mistake finishing with you."

"Cheryl realised that as well and I sent her packing too. These women are all alike. You've got it right Tom, fuck 'em and leave 'em."

"You know as well as I do that Claire is a different matter, you know deep down there's not a selfish bone in her body." Tom paused to let that sink in, which it did. Coming from Tom, it had weight.

Tom was right and Mike's brain knew it, but all his rampant emotions denied it.

He slumped. Tom turned, thinking he'd won the argument, what there was of it. Mike stopped him with his hand.

"Tom," Mike said humbly, "you're a good friend. Look at me. The state I'm in. This isn't the time to talk to Claire. Why don't you and Tracy take her home and spend an hour or so with her.

"Tell her to come back tomorrow when the children are in school. After a night's sleep, I'll be better able to stop my temper getting the better of me.

"But Tom, after what I saw tonight, and after her sessions with Bob at her house -- you know I've never been invited in there? -- I don't know if there's any point. Don't give her false hopes. She's betrayed me badly."

"OK," he said, seeing the sense of it, "but think on this. If you don't love her to bits, why are you so wound up? Good night!"

He turned and went back to the car. He drove off and Mike could see Claire's face looking back. It reminded him of the children's faces when they had to leave. He started to get uptight again.

A few minutes later his mobile phone alerted him to a text. It read, Claire coming after kids 2 school. It was from Tom's phone.

What Mike perhaps should have done was to sit down with a leisurely glass of wine, and think things through. What he did was to slug back two more glasses of the stuff and stagger off to bed.

-----

Some people wake and immediately feel a deep sense of dread at the coming day. That was something foreign to Mike; he always woke up ready to enjoy whatever the day would throw at him. It came from running his own business and generally being a success in it.

However, on that Thursday morning he felt that dread. He didn't want to face this day. He did not feel ill, or tired, or even hung over. He just didn't think he could face a showdown with Claire.

However, he did what everyone else does. He dragged himself out of bed and showered, shaved, dressed and had breakfast, and he did feel better then. It was 8.30am. Rosemary would be in. He phoned to say he would be in late, probably after lunch.

"I hear you had some angry words with Claire last night," she said in answer. "Are you going to see her this morning?"

Whence did the woman get her information? Was she part of a spy network? Mike said as much.

"Oh. That's easy," she laughed. "Tom rang to see if you were in. He told me."

"Thanks Tom," Mike said, provoking another loud laugh from Rosemary. "Yes I am awaiting her arrival. Am I right, I don't have any urgent appointments today, do I?"

He was assured that his day could be made completely flexible. There were some internal meetings but they could wait.

He settled down to some research on his computer, but soon realised that the exercise was fruitless. He was preoccupied with Claire's impending visit.

He reviewed their relationship since Gary's attack. Yes, she was worried about her attractiveness before the three Job's comforters arrived. Yes, she was upset that he was not more loving and took that to mean he was repulsed by her appearance.

She had said nothing to him about her worries. He thought he'd scotched that idea when she told him it was over, he'd been up to his eyes with practicalities, and he had always kissed her lips and cheek, the uninjured one, when arriving and leaving, and he did tell her he loved her: " 'Bye, love you."

No, they didn't talk about their relationship. Most of the time he had one or more of the children with him. He was in constant pain from his own wounds. He was running round like a headless chicken, as well as trying to keep the business on course. Perhaps he should have talked more. On the other hand she could have asked if things were still as they were between them. She didn't.

He was also unaware at the time of the visits of Cheryl's coterie, and she said nothing to check with him if they were right. Misunderstanding? Yes. Avoidable? Yes.

But her reaction was so extreme. No contact at all. No further meetings, never answering the phone or his emails. Conversations such as they were, through Siobhán. That was the mysterious part. Why such a drastic cut off?

Then this series of meetings with Bob. Why did she look guilty at being at that club with him? Why was she allowing some liberties from him, and being so gentle rebuffing others, as if ashamed of showing the world she had a relationship with him?

He decided to note down these questions for when she came. As he did so, the resentment surfaced. He'd done everything he could for her, and she shut him down quite violently. Something was going on and he didn't like it.

Perhaps her love was really just gratitude after all, and now Gary was out of the way, this was a convenient way to sever relations and return to her previous life. She didn't love Mike in that unconditional way a permanent relationship should. It wasn't duty on his part she was concerned about, it was duty to him on her part that she was escaping. It would explain her going out with someone else so soon after ditching Mike.

She must now feel free, and she was hoping Mike and she could drift apart so she could face him without guilt, having made a relationship with someone else. She didn't want to seem ungrateful, that's what it was. He wondered were all women so devious?

Well, his reaction last night must have cemented the idea that he was not the right man for her. He felt mildly embarrassed that he'd let his temper get away from him. He'd said things, used words he didn't really believe and weren't fair and once again he had not given her a chance to reply. Well, she would get that chance today.

He made some coffee, noticing that it was nearly eleven. If she'd dropped the children off at school she should have been with him by 9.30 at the latest. Where was she? By lunchtime he was very annoyed. He had wasted a morning when he could have been working. So now he knew it really was over. No further discussion was necessary. They were finished.

When he arrived at work, Rosemary looked up expectantly, read his face and looked compassionate. He sat down and collected the first file from his in-tray.

"Mike?" she ventured.

He looked at her.

"Not successful, then?"

"She didn't show. I'm finally finished with her. I've been insulted once too often. I would have thought a phone call or a text to say she was not coming was the minimum I could expect. She wanted to see me; I wasted a morning waiting for her."

"Shame," was all she said, and got on with her work. She always knew when not to speak, he thought.

He wondered how he could get most things to do with his business right, but his relationships so wrong. He shrugged and set to work.

He was not really very successful, his mind turning over the events and non-events of the previous day and that day. By four o'clock Rosemary broke the silence she had preserved all afternoon.

"Mike," she said gently. "Go home. Get some sleep."

He stood and was leaving the office when the phone rang.

She answered it.

"Mike, it's Siobhán."

He returned and took the phone.

"Hello, darling," he began. He got no further.

"Daddy, something's wrong with Mum," she babbled. "She's not collected Gin and Ryan. She's just sitting here. She won't talk to me."

Fear gripped him. "OK, Siobhán." he said quickly, "I'll pick the children up and bring them home. I'll be as quick as I can. Make some tea, and see if she'll drink it."

The poor girl was weeping.

"OK Dad," she sobbed.

"I'll be there soon, love," he added and disconnected.

"Got to go, Rosemary," he said, collecting his stuff. "I've got to go and get the children. Claire's ill."

As he left the phone rang again. He halted briefly to hear Rosemary assure the school he was on his way.

He did not break the speed limit more than he usually did, picked up the children who were completely unconcerned that Claire had not turned up. They were delighted when he came through the front door of the school, running up for a hug.

On the way, he explained that their mother was not very well, so they needed to be quiet and leave her alone until he'd had a chance to find out what was wrong. They accepted it all with the flexibility and trust of the young.

He had no key, but Siobhán let them in. She had calmed somewhat or was putting on a brave face for the two younger ones. She led Mike to the living room. There on the sofa sat Claire. She was lying back in it, quite still, and had her eyes closed. He sat down beside her.

"Claire?" he said but there was no reaction. Her hands were clasped together on her lap, and he touched them saying again, "Claire?"

She sat up, and her eyes opened but they stared straight ahead. She did not react beyond that. The children stood at the door, wide-eyed and frightened.

He got up and went to them.

"Siobhán darling," he said, "where can we go?"

"Let's go to the morning room," she said.

Siobhán led the way and they entered a room which was quite small. There was room for a table in the middle, four chairs, and one smallish sideboard. Either Gary or Claire liked earth colours, for the walls and ceiling were cream, green or brown, though the tones were fitting well together.

"Let's all sit down," he said, and they did.

"What's the matter with Mummy?" asked Ryan looking distressed.

"I've seen this before," Mike told them, "and she will get better. How can I explain? Have you ever had flu?"

They nodded solemnly.

"What happens?" he asked.

"You feel shivery and hot and cold and you ache," volunteered Ginny.

"And you feel weak and you have to go to bed," said Siobhán.

"Right," he said. "Well, that's a physical illness. When that happens, all the things you've said is your body making you rest until you're better. Your Mum has an illness in her head, her mind. Her mind has shut down so she can be healed. Her body's healed after the attack, but her mind hasn't got over it. Understand?"

They nodded.

"So she needs looking after, just like someone with flu. Shall I stay and help?"

Again they nodded. At the Home, he had helped people with dissociated conditions. He assumed that this was due to the aftermath of her attack, but she would need to see a doctor.

"OK, children," he spoke to the two younger ones. "You go into the living room and give Mum a hug and say hello. Don't get upset if she doesn't notice. It will register somewhere in her mind. You can hold her hand and tell her about your day. It will help her to get better."

He watched as they tentatively sat down one on each side of her. She did move, as if noticing them, but said nothing.

Practical matters took precedence. With help from Siobhán, he cooked poached eggs, chips and peas for their evening meal. Once they had eaten, he looked into the freezer and found some chicken stock. The children dispersed to homework and games, while Siobhán went and sat with her mother.

"You can talk to her," he told her. "Tell her about your day. Tell me if she reacts."

He chopped an array of vegetables and defrosted the stock. He found a pressure cooker and made a vegetable soup, which he then pureed. It took some time, since he had to find everything he needed. He brought the soup, suitably cooled, to Claire.

"She moved a little, but she's not really with me," said Siobhán. "How will you get her to eat?"

"We'll see," he said.

He sat down next to her and filled the spoon, lifting it under her nose so the aroma would reach her. Then put the spoon to her lips. She opened obligingly and took the soup. From there it was easy.