Living A Lie

With her heart fluttering like a dying moth, Molly pushed open the study door, holding the umbrella like a deadly weapon. There was Suzy, James' young secretary, standing by his mahogany desk looking at a file. She screamed and dropped some loose papers as Molly shouted.

"What are you doing? You scared me to death!"  As Molly collapsed into a nearby chair, Suzy came and stood by her.  "I'm so sorry, Molly, I do apologise. Jim told me to ring your mobile, but I couldn't get hold of you."  Suzy touched Molly's arm apologetically and Molly looked up at her.  "I didn't have it with me."   Suzy frowned.  "Jim gave me the front door keys and he did say I should pin a note to the door to warn you, if you weren't in. He said you liked notes and he laughed about it." Suzy pulled a face "But I don't know what he meant. He's left some papers behind, which he needs for this evening's meeting. He told me to tell you he won't be home until 10.o.clock, or even later. I hate late meetings, they do go on."

She moved back to the desk and continued her search.  Molly rose from the chair, Suzy's mention of the note having made her feel uncomfortable.  "Would you like a coffee, I'm putting the kettle on?" "No thanks, I've found what I want, I'd better get back."  Suzy shuffled some papers, placed them into a large black holdall and walked to the study door.  "I'm sorry I scared you, it was wrong of me. I'll leave a note if it happens again, although I doubt that, Jim is usually so organised. He never forgets a thing."

When Suzy had gone, Molly sat in the lounge with her coffee thinking about James, desperately wishing she had something other than James to think about. He had obviously been affected by last night as he had forgotten his papers, but how dare he laugh about the note on the door and, what's more, (even if she didn't know what he meant) laugh about it in front of Suzy! He had some nerve! Molly was relieved that she wouldn't have to see him this evening, he'd made her very angry and she was afraid of what she might say. She was also pleased that she wouldn't have to cook. The afternoon was spent washing and ironing and she went to bed early and watched television in her room. James eventually arrived home at 10.45 pm.

The days passed quickly. Sunday the 3rd December was the first anniversary of Paul's death. James, as always, took Molly to the cemetery. Without fail, she visited the grave every Sunday with fresh flowers and this time they were accompanied by Molly's daughter, Gemma.

Molly stood quietly weeping, looking down as Gemma knelt by the headstone, neatly arranging red roses and gypsophelia. Gemma stood up, tears welling in her eyes.

"Oh, mum, I'm glad this first year is over. I miss dad so much, but now I want to move on and be happy."

Molly doubted she would ever be happy again, but for Gemma's sake gave a positive reply.

"You will, given time. Time is a great healer, so they say."

Linking arms they walked back to James, waiting in the car.

They were back at the house now, sitting side by side on the garden bench wearing their coats. The air was chill, but a weak winter sun hung low in the sky, bathing them in a warm, golden glow. Gemma placed her arm through her mother's and her head on her shoulder.

"I love you, mum, you do know that, don't you?" she said.

"Oh, sweetheart, of course I do. I love you too, very much."

Molly kissed Gemma's cheek and they sat nestled, quietly for several seconds.

Suddenly, Gemma unlinked her arm from her mother and sat forward, looking down at the grass.

"Mum, I've got something to tell you. I've tried to tell you before, but it didn't feel right." She turned to face her mother.

"James has been good hasn't he? Everyone loves him."

"James has been very good to me and I'm as happy as anyone could be, given the circumstances" said Molly. This was the truth, but Molly still had a lot to hide.

Gemma took Molly's hand in her own.

"Mum, remember when James took us to the cemetery one Sunday with the flowers and James said he thought you were putting Dad on a pedestal and that no-one was perfect. He upset you, can you remember?"

"I forgave him for that remark" Molly replied. She could remember how James had agonised over it afterwards and she had forgiven him, believing it to be a kind of jealousy, although how anyone could be jealous of a dead man, was hard to contemplate.

"I know why James said it mum." She looked straight at Molly, who was alarmed by the look in her eyes.  "A couple of years before dad died he had a fling with someone in his office" said Gemma."It happened when they were on a course. They slept together, only once and dad told James when he came round one evening. I was listening outside the door and I burst in on them. It was awful and dad felt bad about it, because he loved you."

Molly's stomach was churning. Gemma, lowering her head, started to cry and turned to hug her mother, but Molly pushed her gently away, hardly believing what she was hearing. Although Paul was a devout catholic and a man of high morals, Molly instinctively knew Gemma was telling the truth.

With her head reeling and in a state of angry shock, mad at Paul for doing such a thing and angry at Gemma for keeping the secret, Molly stood up from the bench and started to walk to the house. Half way along the path, she turned back and saw Gemma sobbing uncontrollably on the garden bench and was about to go to her when James came up beside her and caught her by the hand.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She pulled her hand from his grasp.

"You knew, and you didn't tell me. Why didn't you tell me? I had a right to know."

Without waiting for an answer, Molly hurried to the french doors which opened into the dining room. She walked to the fireplace and stared down at the fire glowing softly in the grate, needing to cry, but unable to; there were no more tears left to cry. All she felt now was raw anger. If it was true that Paul had been unfaithful (and she imagined it was), why hadn't he told her? During their marriage they had always been truthful to one another, despite their many problems.

A dark shadow filled the doorway. Molly turned and saw James standing there, a tear stained Gemma at his side. He walked towards her looking worried, running a hand through his hair, causing Molly's flesh to creep. There were times when James scared her; this was one of them. She looked down at the flames in the fire, trying to collect her thoughts.

"I didn't want Gemma to tell you, I knew if would upset you." said James.

"It has nothing to do with you James, nothing. Paul should have told me, he was my husband." Her words were rude and telling. James seemed hurt, but replied softly,

"I told him not to. I thought it would destroy you."

Molly looked at him, frowning, taking in his words with disbelief. Her face turned red with anger and she began to shout.

"How dare you! Meddling in my marriage. It was not for you to say! You should have made him tell me! I was his wife and I loved him; much more than I could ever love you!" She glanced quickly at Gemma, who stood still and silent at the french doors and was afraid to say more and turning on her heels, marched angrily from the room.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs she heard James comforting Gemma.  Now she knew why they were so close, those two. They shared a guilty secret. She often wondered why Gemma hadn't minded her marrying so soon after Paul's death.

She climbed the stairs slowly and reaching her room, locked the door behind her.  And the tears did come and for at least the third time that week, she threw herself on the bed in complete abandon and, eventually, cried herself to sleep.

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Christmas was fast approaching and Molly was relieved to have something else to think about other than her indiscretion with James and Paul's one-night stand. She had started Christmas shopping, but had no idea what to buy for James; what did a woman buy for a rich man who had everything? She was almost afraid to ask him as they had hardly spoken for the last week and she avoided his company, whenever she could.

Tonight, Molly was cooking duck á là orange with roast potatoes and fresh vegetables, with rhubarb and orange tart to follow. She was delighted with her efforts, as she hadn't cooked duck before. The recipe had turned out rather well and a gorgeous smell of cooked meat, rhubarb and oranges wafted about her as she laid the kitchen table.

She heard James at the front door. He came into the kitchen and placed his brief case on the floor. He walked around to her as she washed her hands under the tap and leaning slightly towards her, whispered softly into her ear.

"Let me take you away from all of this!"

If Paul had said it, Molly would have laughed, but she knit her brows together and felt nothing but extreme annoyance. What was he suggesting?

"Look Molly, we need a break, somewhere in the sun. These dark winter days get me down. I thought perhaps two weeks in the Canary Islands, Tenerife or Gran Canaria. Take your pick. I'll book a suite of rooms so you can have a room or two of your own. Wouldn't you like that? You've been working very hard for me lately, all those late nights and boring people." He laughed and looked her straight in the eyes, waiting for a reply. Molly was shaken. His laugh was almost musical and quite uplifting. She wished she could laugh too, but she had forgotten how. She felt flat, empty and completely unattractive.

"Molly?"

"Oh, I don't know..."

"It's called a holiday, Molly, I'm sure you remember. You pack a case, catch a plane and there you are somewhere having sex on the beach and before you say anything Molly, that's a cocktail." He laughed again.

"Or perhaps sex on the bar or wherever, I can't remember now and they're cocktails too!"

Why he was talking about cocktails she couldn't think, because he didn't drink.

She had never seen him drink and goodness knows there were plenty of opportunities.

Dinner party, after dinner party where the wine flowed like water, but never had she seen him drink anything alcoholic. She was puzzled, but perhaps he was thinking of her enjoyment and not his own?

James touched her arm and she jumped. As she shrank from his touch, he moved his hand away and stepped back from her.

"Come on Molly, it would be fun. We all need some fun now and then. We'll do just what you want. Sightseeing if you like, or we'll sit by the pool all day reading. What do you say, Moll?"

Molly could still feel the tension in her face as she replied, reluctantly,

"Yes, I suppose it would be nice to get away for a while, it would make a change."

"Good. I'm glad because I've already booked and we leave on Sunday."

Without another word, he promptly picked up his brief case and left the kitchen before she could reply.

Molly was decidedly furious. How dare he do that? How dare he? She thought she would tell him she had changed her mind, he could jolly well go without her, but that meant staying in the house on her own and the thought was quite unbearable. She jumped again as the telephone rang, aware that her nerves were still jangling and went out into the hall to answer it.

Within the few seconds it took for her to reach the telephone, she realised what James meant. No, not cocktails... sex! He'd had a sample and now he wanted more. Well, he would be disappointed, and how! In a fluster, she reached the phone and picked up the receiver.

"Hello."

"Mum, it's me. I just wondered how you are feeling. You know, after all that fuss and bother?"

"I'm all right darling, everything's fine. Really, Gemma, there's nothing to worry about." Molly was aware that her words were hardly convincing.

"Mum, has something happened?"

The response was so typical of Gemma, her sweet, caring daughter who reminded her so much of Paul.

Molly sighed and was forced to lie.

"No darling, I'm fine, I've just had one of my headaches today, that's all. I read too much this morning, you know what it's like, it's hard to put a good book down. But how are you? You don't usually ring at this time?"

There was a catch in Gemma's voice as she replied.

"Oh mum, I'm so worried. Tim hasn't been able to find a job and he's getting really depressed. I've told him not to worry, but he doesn't listen. I don't know what to do. He's hardly eaten for days and he can't sleep."

Molly was surprised to hear this. In her opinion, Tim was a lazy, scruffy, individual who was not at all suitable for her sweet, intelligent daughter. That Tim cared enough about anything to get depressed, was quite an eye opener, especially as Gemma owned her own apartment outright and had no mortgage. Molly had bought the apartment for her when she'd sold the house and married James.

"Oh Gemma, I'm so sorry. Perhaps he should see a doctor, he may need anti-depressants"

"I've tried, mum, but he won't go and I don't know what to do!"

Gemma started to cry, as James came marching down the stairs. He had changed out of his business suit and was wearing a grey sweat-shirt and blue jeans.

"What's up?" he asked.

Molly explained and handed him the receiver.

"Hello Gem, what's wrong...really?..what qualifications has he got? ...I might know someone...Where did he work before he was made redundant? ...How long? ...Look, leave it with me and I'll see what I can do...Well, if he won't go to the doctor, I'll arrange for a private doctor...and Gem, don't worry, you know what they say sweetheart, worry defeats itself" and with that James put down the phone and walked towards the kitchen.

"Is dinner ready yet?" he asked as he reached the kitchen door.

The duck á là orange was slightly burnt, but not inedible, as Molly had forgotten to turn the oven down.  James laughed, but Molly was mortified.  James sat opposite her at the kitchen table enthusiastically eating the food on his plate.

"This is fantastic." he said, looking across at her. "Molly, please eat."

Molly put down her fork.

"I can't. Poor Gemma has had enough to contend with these last few months, I hate to think of her having to cope with Tim's problems, it doesn't seem fair."

"Look, I'll sort it. Don't worry, just eat."

They ate in silence. Then James changed the subject.

"You have got a swim-suit haven't you Molly? It'll be warm in Tenerife - we'll be able to swim. Can you swim?"

"Yes, but I don't know if I have a swim-suit, I'll have to look."

"I suppose if you haven't Moll, you could always go skinny dipping." He looked across at her, a look of amusement on his face.

"I wouldn't...I couldn't, I..." Molly blurted out. She threw down her knife and fork and rising from the table, hurried to the door.

Before she had chance to leave the room James was at her side, placing his arm across the doorway to prevent her leaving.

"I'm sorry Molly, really I am. It's just my sense of fun. I can't help myself. I've felt happier since you came here to live, you can't imagine what it was like before."

He placed his hand on her arm and turned her to face him.

"Let go of me." she shouted.

"No, Molly, I won't." he replied quietly.

"I know you've had a bad time, but you must stop this now. You're only making things worse by not eating properly."

She glanced angrily down at his hand on her arm and he released the hold.

"What do you expect? It's been one problem after another all these months. I'm struggling. I can't take anymore. Don't you understand?" She glowered at him and then looked away as tears pricked her eyes.

"Of course I do." he replied softly "That's why we need a holiday. We both need to get away and have a rest, a change of air; somewhere different...it's not a bad idea is it?"

As she listened, she saw the wisdom of his words and she allowed him to guide her back to the table. With his hands on her shoulders, he gently pushed her into the chair and then returned to his seat.

The meal was over, which Molly had to admit was one of her finest moments. 'Orange Duck' as James called it, (although slightly singed) was a resounding success. Together, they filled the dishwasher and as she turned to switch it on she bumped into him and stepped on his foot.

"I'm sorry." she said.

He laughed and turned to leave the kitchen. She touched his arm, lightly.

"I've not made life easy for you James.  I am sorry."

She looked into his eyes, for the first time in many long months, not sure of the emotions she was seeing there. James furrowed his brow. They were still staring into each other's eyes as if each was trying to read the other's mind, when he replied.

"I'm sorry too, you've had a traumatic time and I've no right to criticise. I just wish..."

His voice trailed away and not finishing the sentence, he turned and walked into the lounge.

She followed and found him sitting on the sofa fiddling with the TV remote control, looking agitated.

"James, do you want me to pack your suitcase? I'd better start packing, I suppose." she said.

He looked up at her.

"I'll get the cases down for you." he replied.

Molly spent the rest of the week making lists and packing their cases. And she didn't have a swimsuit. Just as well, she thought. The less James saw of her body the better, in view of his remarks about sex on the beach! The least she would be wearing would be a pair of shorts and a T-shirt; and although James had encouraged her to go, she had decided not to take flowers to Paul's grave on the weekend they were travelling. There wouldn't be much time and she was still smarting over what Paul had done.

At 7.45 am on Sunday morning, a taxi pulled up in front of the house and soon they were wending their way to Gatwick airport. The rain poured down from a grey sky, as they wheeled their cases into Departures. As they stood in a long queue waiting to check in, Molly began to feel slightly nauseous. It brought back memories of her pregnancy, when she was carrying Gemma. She dug in her handbag and found a packet of mints. James was concerned and mentioned that she looked pale, but she didn't want him to fuss.

The airport was crowded and it took an hour to get through security. When they finally reached the departure lounge, there was another hour to wait. James went to the book-shop, while Molly sat dozing in her seat. She fell asleep, but was rudely woken by a loud grating noise.

"This is the last call for flight FY 207 to Tenerife."

It was their flight! As the last of the passengers walked out onto the tarmac and boarded the shuttle bus, she rose to her feet feeling panicky and looked around for James. Her head started to spin as she caught sight of him walking towards her. As a grey mist thickened, she felt his hands around her waist, fell into a faint and slid, quite daintily, to the floor. It vaguely crossed her misty mind, as the grey turned into black, that she may not be going to Tenerife after all.

And... she sincerely hoped she wasn't pregnant!

END OF PART TWO