Well, today is the day I start my revenge, I had found out a month ago that my wife has a fuck buddy and I am not happy about it, I mean, who would be? Her buddy is a rich prick called Richard, Richardson, does that make him a double, maybe triple dick, or just a complete dick, don’t know and I don’t care, all I do know is I have discovered for the first time in fifty two years what hate feels like.
I suppose it doesn’t really matter how I found out, only that I did, but if you’re interested, I had nipped out to one of our suppliers to fetch a component I need to fix the control system for one of the machines at work and on the way back I thought I saw her pass a road I was queueing to get out of. It looked like she was going home, that was odd, because it hadn’t been five minutes since I had rang her to find out if she wanted me to grab something from a shop on the way home tonight and she had told me she was at home.
So I headed for home wondering why she had lied to me, well, you would, wouldn’t you?
When I get home her car is sitting right where it had been when I left that morning, as I walked to the door I could hear the fan in the bathroom going and water running down the soil pipe, no doubt in my mind she was having a shower, the big question in my mind was, why?
I had thought of several reasons as to why she had lied to me in the first place and not one was what it was beginning to look like. Even then I was thinking she had gotten something on her that she needed to get off her, well as it turned out, it was, just not what I would have thought.
I suppose somewhere in the back of my mind I must have expected to find something I didn’t want, because I crept in as quietly as I could. I crept into the bathroom and as I expected she was in the shower, her clothes just piled up on the floor. There on top, her knickers, with a big wet glob of what was obviously spunk.
I really don’t know how I restrained myself from grabbing hold of her and beating the bastards name out of her before throwing her out, but I didn’t, shock maybe. But somehow I just quietly turned around and went back to work.
I replaced the component and was just about to throw the power switch when I heard someone shout “Whoa,”
It makes me jump, but more importantly, it stops me from throwing the switch, I look for the source even though I know exactly who it is. It is the other Colin that works here, he is one of the higher ups, we call him Pooch.
“What the fuck are you doing Mac? You don’t usually make mistakes like that.”
“What?” I ask and realise I haven’t adjusted the component to do the job it is supposed to do. If I had thrown the switch it would have blown the drive unit which would cost thousands to replace and even more in machine downtime.”
“Fucking hell, thanks Pooch you saved me from making a major balls up there.”
“What’s wrong Mac? Something bothering you?”
“Nothing mate, just a bit distracted that’s all.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” I can see him looking at me and I can see he doesn’t believe me.
“Well leave that for a bit, come with me.”
“Uhh, I’ll…”
“No Mac, come with me.”
“It’s not often he takes that tone with anyone and the way he is walking away I know the best thing I can do right now is to follow him, so I lock my tools away, pick up the laptop that I should have used to calibrate the unit and follow him.
He leads me not to his office, which is open to be viewed from all sides, upstairs to a room that is generally used for closed meetings. He goes in and turning to me he pulls out a chair and sits, gesturing that I do the same.
“I saw you come back and could see that you suddenly had a problem. When you left you were your normal happy self, sharing a few words with everybody you passed. When you came back you didn’t speak to anybody, in fact you looked like if someone said the wrong thing you’d deck them. Now I know sometimes B&J can be dicks but…”
I couldn’t help it, I don’t think I’ve shed a tear since I was ten, but that was it, I started crying like a child. I didn’t say anything just I sat there bawling my eyes out. Pooch said nothing either, he just waited for me to compose myself.
Don’t ask me how long I sat there all I know is when I managed to get myself under control he was sitting there holding out a tissue to me. Feeling embarrassed I take it and apologise for my pathetic display.
“Mac, don’t worry about it. I know it isn’t something you’d normally do, trust me, it won’t go any further, so… tell me about it.”
The tears start again and I let it all out, seeing her, following her and what I found. What he said next surprised me, I mean I know some of the story but not the emotions he went through and he admitted, almost with pride that when he became suspicious and started looking into his wife’s activities, he too had cried.
We talked for over an hour until I was able to go back on the shop floor, before we left the room we agreed that we had never had that conversation. I had the machine ready to go in less than fifteen minutes.
The conversation that didn’t happen had left me with a lot of things to think of and a lot of questions that needed to be answered, the first one being could I get over it if she stopped.
I didn’t confront her, in fact I haven’t yet done so. That first week, I don’t know how, but I managed to carry on much as normal, I did spend more time than usual in my workshop when I was at home. Elaine did notice that I was what can you say, more than a bit out of sorts, but I explained away by telling her BTK was thinking about buying a new co-extruder and I was the one having to assess which to buy.
A few days after my discovery Pooch took me to one side and gave me a piece of paper, saying quietly, “I didn’t give you this,” on it was written a name and address, I didn’t need any more details to know to whom it belonged.
To say I was unsure of what I should do, or be doing, is a gross understatement, but I was definitely thinking of causing at least one of them some pain in some way and I knew that whatever I did, if I chose not to follow legal options, I would need to maintain deniability to protect myself.
I have owned bicycles since I was a boy and I still do. If the weather is good enough and I do not have to carry anything heavy or bulky either to or from work I will often cycle, this means if I have to run errands as I did that Monday, I would use one of the firms vehicles and so the day after getting the address, I took an old unliveried van out and found his house, fortuitous for me, his house sits behind an area of woodland, known locally as Fogles wood that almost surrounds his property on three sides.
The following day, a Saturday, I take Elaine to the railway station. After dropping her off I go home and go out cycling, taking a pair of binoculars with me. I rode out and stashed my bike off the road, out of sight in the woods and negotiated my way through the trees.
The house, is isolated and fairly old, I guess it’s probably two to three hundred years, not that it matters. I suppose, in some masochistic sense I was enjoying the intrigue of sneaking around and spying, but the reality of why I was there slapped me in the face when he rolls up in a fairly new Jag and I see the passenger. It is my wife, stupid me thought she was shopping in Cambridge.
Seeing her get out and all but run around the car to embrace him I think is the most hurtful thing I have seen her do, it was something she used to do often, especially if we had been apart for a couple of days and she was excited for what was coming next, which meant me and her.
I didn’t need to see any more, I wouldn’t have seen much anyway, I could hardly seen anything through the tears flowing from me. I stumbled through the trees back to my bike, feeling nothing but pain.
Riding back home, the pain found a companion, a need to make her feel that pain, but from what I have just seen, loss of me would not give her much concern. Certainly nowhere near the pain I was feeling.
The following couple weeks I spent almost all of my time either out cycling or at home in my workshop, mostly just staying away from her but also plotting how I could cause her the most pain without physically hurting her and finding out about him.
When I did my apprenticeship, my job was mostly mechanical, replacing, or fitting new parts, that’s why we were called fitters. Now electronics play a big part of my job and I have the grand title of engineer, of course I had to go on more than a few courses to keep up to date with the electrical control systems and stuff, this knowledge was about to become useful.
In Britain you can, if properly licenced, legally own a gun. Whereas tasers are completely illegal, but if you have the know how, building one is not difficult, so I did. I also spent a few quid getting a couple of props, namely a black curly wig and an overcoat I bought from a charity shop and a couple of rolls of pallet wrap I nicked from work (industrial stretch film) I also called a flower shop to arranged for a particular bunch of flowers to be delivered on the Wednesday, at seven in the evening. I think about having the bunch contain one less than the years we have been married but think that will be too much of a clue if the police get involved, to be honest I think having Dahlias delivered is a big clue, especially as I want them to add a particular scent, but I am certain there is no way of knowing that I know Dahlias are the traitors flower, or why I coincidently had asked for that particular scent to be added. She doesn’t and she’ll probably think they’re chrysanthemums anyway, but I think the scent will hit home.
On my bike ride the day before I was going to start making waves, I took two envelopes over to her parents, asking them that if she turned up on the Monday evening, to feed her and then give her the note the one marked Monday and to give her the other on the Tuesday. If she didn’t turn up until the Tuesday, not to bother giving her the Monday note. I was feeling guilty for using them like this, but if all goes the way I would like, they will know nothing about what I intend to be my final objective. It is they, not me that suggest giving her one of her favourite meals if she comes over on Monday. They tell me they could pop out without telling her, pointing out that if left alone in the house she will search for Tuesday’s note and they suggest I write another telling her not to try to get clues early and to come back only when she is supposed to. They supply me with an envelope, paper and pen and I write the note.
My, surveillance, if you want to call it that, makes me fairly certain that he is working from home, I know after Covid, more people are doing that, than did before Covid. Also making me aware he seems to have few visitors other than my wife. No other women and no friends or family. All the time I spent watching I only saw one other vehicle and that was a delivery from one of the local supermarkets. The couple more times I see my wife there, he brought her. It seems the only fear of observance I need to consider, is if he has any surveillance cameras. It is obvious he has no official camera system, if he did and wanted them to matter he would have to display warnings to inform people, so all I have to worry about is if he has fitted his own, outside or in.
The few times I am sure she is there during the week, she met him probably about half ten and returning about two. I know this because her phone was either off, or she had temporarily turned off the GPS.
I give her half an hour to get gone and then pop home. I put some solid red watercolour paint blocks in the shower head. They should make the water blood red, but I think shouldn’t stain. For the next step, I leave an old cassette recorder that I had added a surprise to, for her to find. I wrap it in the towel I know she will have to use after her shower surprise. For the following step, I slip an envelope with a message under the bed in the spare room.
88888888888888
Arriving home I dash up to the shower, I strip off and turning it on, I dive in. With my eyes closed, I reach for the shower gel, lather up and begin washing.
Oooohhhh it feels good to wash off the sweat and spunk I got from my from my regular Monday lunch time session with Dick.
I giggle to myself, most people call Richard, Dick, but not for the same reason I do. God just thinking about him makes me so hot. I reach down and touch myself, smiling at the freshly waxed feel, I move to my clit, my lips and wash away the residue from Dicks Dick, letting the water wash over me, over my face, I turn and let the water cascade over my neck and back and open my eyes.
I scream, the water running into the drain is running red, a deep dark blood red, still screaming I turn the water off and check myself.
Finding nothing amiss I turn the water back on and it immediately turns red and I realise the red isn’t my blood, the water is coming out of the shower head red. I jump out of the shower cursing my husband and grab a towel and press it to my face to dry it, so I can see without water running into my eyes. I pull the towel away and am rewarded with a red imprint of my face on the towel, I look to the shower and the water is still running red. I stop the shower and unscrew the head, I find what looks like red blocks that look like they have come from a watercolour paintbox.
“I’ll fucking kill him,” I say aloud to nobody. I remove the packs, screw the head back on and resume my shower, this time with clear untainted water. “The bastard, how could he do this to me?”
When I am done, I reach for another towel from the rail and realise there isn’t one, so naked, I have to go to the cupboard on the landing to get a clean towel. I find an old cassette recorder wrapped in it, not even giving it a second thought, still cursing, I dry myself.
After dressing, in my anger, not even realising I had picked up the player, I go downstairs and make a pot of tea. I pour a cup and go into the front room and notice there, on the cassette player is a note stuck to it, on the note is two words, “PLAY ME.”
Puzzled, I press the button, and the theme tune from some old American telly programme starts to play and then it cuts in with hubby’s voice.
“As you know, Friday is April fool’s day, so I thought this year, as I have to be in Lancaster this week, to help you not get too bored and lonely, we can make a week of it. Your assignment is to solve the clues and collect the information provided to know where you need to be Friday evening, is this mission possible? The first clue can be found where we first made love in this house… This message will self destruct in five seconds….”
Still puzzled I reach for the player, thinking I need to listen again when a small flame and smoke appears from the cassette, I jump back and reaching for my cup empty it over the smouldering plastic extinguishing the flame. I pull the cassette from the player to inspect it and find the tape is just a shrivelled mess.
“I suppose you think you are funny mister, well we’ll see how funny you find it when there’s no nookie when you get home,” Again I speak aloud, even though there is no-one to hear me.
Angrily, I clean up the mess he made me make, and throw the old machine in the bin before pouring myself another cuppa. I sit down and I am fuming, I am determined I will not be playing his stupid game.
As angry and determined as I am not to get involved with his stupid game, I can’t help but remember the day we moved in. As soon as our friends left, we started snogging by the front door, and then with just a look we ran upstairs into our room, threw the mattress on the floor and we made love… I smile as I correct myself, we didn’t make love, we fucked with lust filled abandon, then he dragged the mattress into the guest room and there, we did make love.
Oooh those were the days, just setting out together, just him and me, united and prepared to take on the world. A fleeting flash of guilt flows through me as Dicks Dick jumps into my mind.
Although I am still annoyed I catch myself beginning to wonder which room he has hidden the clue and try to put it out of my mind..
Finishing my tea, I head back into the kitchen supposedly to start making preparations for my evening meal. I get a pork chop out , but he has managed to pique my curiosity, and even though I don’t want to do it, I know I’m not going to be happy until I know what he has left for me. I had not noticed anything obvious in our room when I dressed, so I go up to the spare room.
I do a quick scan and nothing jumps out at me. I look in the wardrobe, all the drawers in the chest and the bedside cabinets, nothing.
I continue my search. I know that even if I have not liked the two jokes he has already played, he is good-natured and although he may go a little too far some times, all his jokes are made without malice.
It takes me a while, but eventually I find a note.
Lainey here’s a little rhyme
with a little clue
Where were we that first time
together, we said I love you?
I smile as I remember that day, he had taken me to Cambridge, we saw that bridge, I know you tried to explain to me why it was special, but I didn’t understand, the only thing I remember about it is that apple bloke, wassisname, yes Isaac Newton who designed it.
I had wanted something to eat, I still don’t know how you arranged it, but instead of a hot dog you took me punting on the Cam and there waiting for us, was a hamper for a picnic and I managed to slip, nearly falling in the river, in the process I kicked it overboard. He surprised me, he didn’t get angry, he just made sure I hadn’t hurt myself, laughed and held me. I feel smile my getting broader as the memory continues.
Even though, he hadn’t quite done two years of his apprenticeship and he didn’t have much money, he didn’t complain and we cut the afternoon short so I could get something to eat. We went to the market and we found a stall selling strange meats, we shared a crocodile burger, it was sort of chickenish in taste, but fatty like pork. I smile remembering Daniel Jackson in Stargate trying to explain a chicken to a boy. Then we went for a walk and we found that church, what was it? Saint, saint… Mary’s, yes that was it, it was incredible, we could see most of the city from the spire. Then he took me for a meal, it was an Indian, a new experience for me at the time, it was the start of my love of Asian food. Afterwards we caught a bus to the station to catch a train home and when we got back to Emmingford he walked me home. We kissed and talked on the doorstep for ages, that was then I told him how I felt and he grabbed me tightly and spun me round and shouted, “I love you too,” and my dad opened the door and he said, “that’s all very well, but can you do it quietly,” god we were so embarrassed. He gave me a quick peck on the cheek and made a hasty retreat. Ha ha, mum and dad have taken the piss out of him for that ever since for that.
We were so much in love back then, every little thing he did was for me, I think it still is, I suddenly feel guilty, I have never been able to match his loving ways, even this silly treasure hunt is special. It isn’t that I don’t want to, I do, but my mind doesn’t seem to work that way, I never seem to be able to give him that special thing, and whenever I do think of anything, I tend to overthink it and fuck it up.
I look at the clock and decide it has to be there, so I pop over to mum and dads to see the next clue.
I arrive just before five, mum is cooking tea and dad is out in his shed. As soon as I walk in mum invites me to stay for tea, I accept, knowing that I can stick the chop in the fridge when I get home and have it tomorrow.
She’s made a steak and kidney pudding, my favourite. Strange, she only usually does that when she is cooking for four people, although she has been known to cook it when it is just us three. I start telling her about my afternoon, as soon as I say about the shower I realise I have to excuse why I showered and quickly make up a story about spilling a bottle of plant food over myself and complain about Colin putting it on a high shelf and not putting the cap on properly.
“Call your dad in,” Mum says, interrupting my tale of woe. I open the back door and shout, “Daa-aad”
I hear him take his boots off and he comes in carrying them. He puts them in the cupboard and then goes to the toilet to wash his hands, when he returns he looks at me and says, it wasn’t permanent then?” it takes me a few moments before I understand he is talking about the dye.
“You knew?” ask
Dad nods as he sits, it is not long after when Mum puts a plate down in front of him and passes another to me before putting one in her spot and sitting.
“We know he’s playing a game with you for April fools, he told us a little, where are you up to?”
“The clue said I should come here.”
“What makes you think you should be here?”
“The clue said to come to the first place we told each other we loved each other, you know, that’s why you always call him upid stunt.”
“Fair enough, so what do you expect from us?”
“I don’t know, a message, a letter, something like that.”
“Well… perhaps your mum might find something after tea.”
“Mmm mmm,” I acknowledge him with my mouth full, I hadn’t had one of mums snake and pygmy puddings for ages, I had forgotten how good they are. Hers are always light and fluffy, mine have always ended up stodgy.
No one spoke for a while, I devoured everything on my plate, when I had swallowed my last mouthful, I said, “thanks mum, that was lush.”
“Good enough that you’ll wash up?”
“God mum, I’m a guest.”
“Unless we we having afters, Colin would be stood at the sink filling the bowl without being asked if he was here.”
“Yes, okay fine,” I snap as I push my chair back, “I’m sorry I can’t be as fu… chuffing perfect as my husband.”
I get a couple of non committal grunts as their replies as I stand to follow mums request.
When I have finished I turn around from the sink to see that I am alone in the kitchen, I hadn’t even noticed there hadn’t been any noise, any conversation as I washed the dishes. I think that was the first time I thought there may be something off, something not quite right with my parents. Normally the house was full of conversations and laughter, my parents life together was always full of bickering banter and laughter. I shrug my shoulders as I assumed my parents had had a rare argument and me being here had interrupted their time to make up. That was probably why my mother made the snake and pygmy pudding.
“Shall I make some tea?” I call out. I got no reply, “Who wants a cuppa?” I shout louder, again I got no answer.
I walked into the living room calling, “Mum, Dad, where are you?” seeing they’re not in the living room, I called upstairs and again I heard nothing but silence.
“That’s weird,” I said to myself.
I go back into the dining room and there on the table is an envelope, on it is my name and one sentence.
[do not open until tuesday morning]
I smile as I pick it up recognising Colin’s scrawl and the fact that he never manages to start a weekday or a month with a capital letter or use punctuation.
Of course I don’t follow the instructions and rip open the envelope, expecting another little rhyme. I read it, not a rhyme, just one sentence.
[if your reading this note your early come back tomorrow for your clue]
Shit I wish he could get it into his thick head it’s you’re not your. Bollocks, my parents might be in on his joke, but I’ll make them give me the proper one. I run upstairs and look in every room to find they are not there, back downstairs I go out to Dad’s shed, inside I see it sitting on the bench and I rip it open.
[If your reading this one it means you’ve been searching for your mum and dad and you found this and not them. Like I said COME BACK TOMORROW FOR YOUR NEXT CLUE]
I couldn’t help but grin as it showed me how well he knows me.
88888888888888
Wearing the overcoat and wig, latex gloves and of course the obligatory mask, I walk up to his door and ring the bell.
He seems annoyed at being disturbed, but as soon as the door is open I push him backward and hit him with the taser He dropped, twitching like an epileptic given a chilli enema, now there’s an idea.
When he comes round, I have him wrapped up like a mummy, even his head, although I have cut a hole for him to breathe and a small slit to allow me to hit him with the taser again, I asked him to tell me about any camera’s and he said he has none. I shock him a couple more times to emphasise his predicament and make sure he isn’t lying.
The third time he regains consciousness, he begs me stop and again tells me there are no camera’s, I finally believe him and then I get to the point, “Well Dick, you’ve been sticking your namesake where it don’t belong and somebody don’t like that and he wants you to stop, gottit.”
“Yes,” he gasps, his voice is hardly a whisper.
God, one word and you can tell he was born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth. If I didn’t already hate him, that would be enough.
“Tell me about it, all of it, where did you meet her.”
“I knew her from years ago, she used to go horse riding at my Aunts riding school, and we bumped into each other at the railway station one day, there was a delay for some reason or other, I can’t remember exactly what. We talked and it made for an enjoyable wait and I asked her out to dinner, she refused, but I pressed her to meet me for lunch another day, she was a little hesitant, but I managed to get her to agree to meet for a coffee, I took her to les moustaches des chats.
“That’s that posh place a couple of miles down Emmingford road, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Go on,” I say.”
“Well, she was impressed and I managed to get her to agree to have dinner, I believe, you…”
“I’m not her husband.” I interject firmly.
“Oh, you’re being paid to…”
“None of your fucking business. Now you had dinner when he was away?”
As I spoke I knew I had in the last year, only spent three nights away from home, last June I had gone with Pooch to Italy to look at an extruder. BTK in Germany had suggested we buy, funny really, seeing that is a similar reason I gave to Elaine for me being away from home this week.
“He continued, “We had an enjoyable evening and as you mentioned les moustaches des chats.” is just down the road, so I brought her here for a nightcap. It looked like nothing was going to happen, but…”
I’m sure the bastard was smiling underneath the layers of plastic and thought about hitting him with the taser again but I didn’t want to dissuade him from telling me all the details.
“Well… we got out to the car and uhh, I sort of demanded a goodnight kiss, and she was more than a little bit squiffy and the kiss was… it was umm passionate, umm, far more passionate than I had at that point expected and we… well without a word between us we came back inside and , well you know how these things go.”
I’m sure he is grinning so I hit him with another shock. When he recovers, I say, “Not feeling so smug now are you?”
“N, no, please stop doing that,” he plead.
“Is she planning to leave … her husband?” I just manage to catch myself, I almost say me.
“Not at first… I want her to, right from the start but she always refused, but I think she is coming round, I am uhh, have been hoping she will leave him soon.”
That was something I hadn’t wanted to hear, people may think I am stupid to want to keep her, but I do.
“How do you keep in contact? M… her husband hasn’t found anything.”
“We don’t, that was her idea after we made love for arrggh!”
When he gained his senses again I tell him, “You will refer to your contempt of her marriage and her husband as fucking, I don’t want to hear the term made love from your deceitful mouth again alright!”
“Yes, yes, please stop doing that.”
“Okay, so after that first fucking?”
“We agreed to not have each others numbers, she didn’t want to leave any clues for her husband to find.”
“Is that why you always pick her up?”
“Yes… but… she seems to get a kick out of him dropping her off when she goes out for the day.”
I imagine him smirking under the wrap so I hit him with the taser again.
“What about a key, has she got one?”
“N,N,No, for the same reason, please, please I’m begging you, don’t tase me again, I’ll never see her again… please”
As much as I want to, I manage to restrain myself from shocking him again. To reduce temptation, I go exploring, would you believe he has a wine cellar and there’s a hell of a lot of bottles down there. Otherwise, the house is fairly devoid of, well pretty much everything. By that, I mean no ornaments or paintings, anything that would give the house some personality if you know what I mean. Yes he has lots of things, a telly in every room, with individual surround sound and such, but it is all hidden away, it was only because I was being nosey opening cupboards and that, that I found the things I did find. I did count myself lucky when I found his computer, it was turned off so if it had a camera it didn’t matter, but I went back and tased him again for not mentioning it. He assures me there is no camera, being a desktop he was probably telling the truth. It does however spring a thought into my mind.
“Okay Dick, are there any pictures on there that her husband wouldn’t want you to have?”
“No!”
His reply was so emphatic I really did not believe him, “Right Dick, I will go and see and if I find anything like that then I will tase your bollocks, one for each picture or video I find, or you can tell me now where you keep them.”
I wouldn’t have thought that with me being only able to see little more than his eyes clearly that I would see the terror that appears in them, immediately he starts talking, locations of files, on his PC and online and all the passcodes to find them. I copy the files onto a USB stick and delete them. I also gained access to his accounts and donated most of it to the NHS, that’s going to hurt almost as much as his bollocks in a little while.
When I have finished explaining to him it is not a good idea to not only mess around with another man’s wife, especially if you are going to record your atrocious lack of respect he starts complaining that he is getting sore. I hadn’t realised, and he hadn’t said, but at least once when I tased him, he had pissed himself. Oh what a shame.
I cut his legs free and threaten that he really wouldn’t like it if he tried anything, he obviously believes me or has no fight left and behaves himself. I make him use the toilet in the bathroom upstairs. I drop his trousers for him and make him sit on the toilet. Then I fix him in place with more shrink wrap.
I’m getting hungry, so I raid his fridge, finding a nice size sirloin steak I stick it under the grill and hidden away I find a nice loaf of fresh uncut bread in a bread bin that, like every thing else, tucked away so you wouldn’t know was there, an onion and butter. That’ll do me. As I’m buttering my bread I remember something from a documentary I once saw about sailors in the sixteenth or seventeenth centuries. A punishment, only allowing the person being punished bread to eat and water to drink. I, like most people thought that it was just a punishment because it is boring food, but that documentary taught me that as well as being boring there was another factor, it also bound you up big time, as in severe constipation, the result being the person feels so bloated and uncomfortable, that every movement is a strain. Not something anyone would want having to haul sails up and down, or whatever they were required to do.
I cook the steak and onions, making some nice mouthwatering smells and eat it as a sandwich in front of him, I did however, cut a two inch doorstep and feed it to him along with a mug of water.
Knowing she will expect a call at eight, I do not call, I wonder how long it will be before she calls me? Just after nine, I get my answer, which is more than she does. Ten minutes later I see she is travelling in her car before her phone goes dark. I run round the house and turn off all the lights, five minutes later I see headlights heading this way. I warn him if he makes a sound, he will regret it.
She knocks, then bangs, then hammers on the door. I stay silent and eventually she leaves. Half an hour or so later, I get him to tell me his PIN for his credit card then I drive his Jag to a long stay car park and finding I have missed the last train, I get a taxi back to his, Jesus, glad I wasn’t paying for it, one thing about Covid though, you gotta love these masks if you don’t want to be recognised.
I change the sheets on his bed and sleep there. Him, I leave on the toilet, I do give him a drink of water.
I get up early give him another drink and a doorstep of bread before cycling to work. I am there by half six.
I expect Elaine to be at her Mum and Dad’s fairly early, not that it matters, she won’t be able to get the next clue until after the Nags opens and that will tell her she has to wait until tomorrow evening for the next one.
I am just about to leave work, when I realise my plan has a major flaw, if she should see me travelling to or from his house she would recognise me and the bike, of course my disguise helps with part of it, but the bike, I am sure she would recognise that so I disguise it, by covering the frame with some black tape.
Tonight I have some venison sausages,that I found in his freezer and do some mash and peas, with some red wine gravy out of a box. It was alright, but I would have preferred a decent pork sausage and a normal gravy. I give my housemate more bread and water, I getting the impression he is not a happy bunny. I think the same could be said for my wife when again, she finds no sign of anyone at home.
Wednesday, about the same, she is due to get the flowers at seven, I wonder if she will try to call. Using his phone I call for a pizza, on his card of course. I had half and generously, I give him half, I don’t even scrape the topping off. I let him have two glasses of water too. Ungrateful bastard didn’t even say thank you.
Thursday, I get us Indian takeaways, I get a medium madras, rice and two keema naans, I also give him alcohol, would you believe it, he has a thing for white rum and coke, or maybe he was just glad of something else to drink other than water.
I had noticed in the wine cellar he had several bottles of champagne I decide to take one , maybe two with me tomorrow when I say goodbye.
88888888888888
“Bastard,” I say with a smile, he knows me too well. Locking up the shed and after checking the garage, I lock my parents house and go home to wait for him to call at eight, as he has done on the rare occasion he is away.
Eight comes and goes and both the house phone and my mobile remain silent. I can’t understand it, he has always called me at eight religiously without fail. I begin to get angry, but then I think that it is part of his game, so I settle back thinking he will call later, maybe half past or even as late as nine.
I hear nothing at nine, so I call him, his mobile goes straight to voice mail, so I leave a message.
“Colin, pack this stupid game up. Yes it was nice being reminded of that day when we confessed our love, but did you have to do that with the shower? You have no idea how pissed off I was about that, but I admit when you sent me over to my mum and dads I was okay with your joke, but come on ignoring me, that isn’t okay so you had better call me back, you have ten minutes.” I end the call and wait.
Twenty minutes go by and he still doesn’t call and so I call again, again it goes straight to voicemail, “right, you want to play stupid games, well bollocks to you mister. My dad calls you Cupid stunt and we all know what that actually is so you stupid cunt, you can wait until Friday when you get home before I will speak to you again.” Angrily I press the red button and like a fool I expect him to call back.
He doesn’t and so I think, fuck him, I’ll go over to Dick and enjoy his dick.
Fuck it, it just isn’t my night, he isn’t in, now I’m angry with him as well. “Fuck! It, fucking fuck fuck fuck,” I scream hitting my steering wheel, now I’m angry with Dick as well.
I drive home, I suppose I shouldn’t be this angry, especially with Dick, I mean I have no claim on him, but fucking Colin and his stupid games are what has made me angry, well fuck him, once I get hold of Dick I’ll go and stay with him for the rest of the week. Not tonight, not now, sex is suddenly the last thing on my mind.
I get in and I mix myself a really strong vodka and orange and drink it straight down. I pour myself a second and I stare at the phone, willing it to ring. Of course it doesn’t and I swallow the second glass and pour myself another, I drink that as I scroll through Petflix to try and take my mind off my stupid decisions.
I wake up, later to the end credits of the original version of Dune, my mouth tastes like a cat shit in it, I see a half empty glass with an orange liquid so I reach out and drain it. Fuck, warm, very strong vodka and orange, not what I wanted to swallow at nearly three in the morning.
Somewhat unsteadily I stumble up the stairs to bed.
The alarm goes off at it’s normal time and my head is pounding, my stomach feels really squiffy and as soon as I stand the room lurches and I run to the toilet heaving.
Surprisingly, once I finish emptying my stomach I feel a bit better, a little more after cleaning my teeth, and a shower cursing when I find out that Colin has taken the mouthwash with him.
It is a cup of tea and a slice of toast later that I remember why I feel like shit and I jump in my car to go over to my parents again and would you believe it, halfway there I get pulled over and breathalysed. I’m lucky I suppose, scoring 33, a fail is thirty five. The copper sends me on my way after giving me a bollocking about driving the morning after drinking heavily, would you believe it, he follows me all the way to um and dads. I suppose thinking about it, I am now glad I had no mouthwash as that would have probably put me over the limit.
They are not surprised to see me this early because they know why I’m here, Mum invites me in for a cuppa. I sit at the table and mum puts three mugs of tea on the table, dad comes in and hands me an envelope and I rip it open.
Did you enjoy your shower
I bet your face was dour.
Haha, I bet that’s true
now here is another clue.
After watching a certain band
In a pub I asked for your hand.
There is one pub nearby
with the night’s joke to try.
I knew it, this clue had to be about us getting engaged, well this ones easy, we had been to see Blondie at the Corn Exchange and afterwards we went into a pub called the Bath House. Mum is reading it over my shoulder and says, “I don’t know any pubs around here called the Bath House.”
“No mum, it’s the clue, I know it’s the Nags.”
“Huh?” from both mum and dad.
“Y’know the landlord, Gerry,” they both nod as I explain, “Well it was only two or three weeks after his wife ran off.”
“Yes.”
“That’s where the joke comes in.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he let himself go a bit, y’know.”
Mum frowns and dad shrugs.
“He didn’t wash, he smelled bad, he needed a bath, get it now. We were soon calling the Nags the No Bath House or the Unbath House.
“That wasn’t very nice Elaine,” this time I am the one to shrug, “Maybe, but one night we think Gerry either heard us or it got back to him and all of a sudden, he’s washing again, well, as often as he ever did. Nobody ever said, he might have just got over it, or had a word with himself. We then joked at how the pub and Gerry was out of odour.” Dad laughs but Mum scowls.
We spend the next couple of hours chatting, mostly mum telling me how romantic and thoughtful Colin is being and how I should follow his instructions and not to second guess him or do anything before he wants me to.
I walk into the Nags Head just after it opens, Gerry is at the end of the bar chatting with Malcolm, christ does Malc ever go home? Gerry looks at me, says something to Malc and picking a glass from under the bar he holds it under the vodka optic, looks at me and asks, “usual?”
I shake my head and ask, “did my Mac leave anything here for me?”
He sucks in air past his teeth with a hiss, shaking his head like a dodgy mechanic looking under your cars bonnet for the first time and then asks, “What sort of thing?”
“Gerry don’t be a twat, give it here.”
He grins and pushes the glass up and a measure goes into the glass, he puts some orange juice in it and hands it to me saying, “it’s only a single you’ll be able to drive.”
I’m not so sure, but I accept it, he then reaches behind one of the bottles under the row of optics and retrieves an envelope. Opening it I find.
This next ones a winner
but come what may
wait til after your dinner
tomorrow, wed nes day.
“Bastard!” I exclaim loudly and hear Gerry and Malcolm snigger. I knock back the vodka and storm out. Being Tuesday, there is no market, so the market place is a car park. Leaving the pub I start walking to my car and see that copper that comes in the Nags, Brown his name is, walking toward me, it is obvious he has just left the cop shop. Remembering my earlier interaction with a copper I feel like I am blushing, and wonder whether getting in my car is a wise decision as I have just topped up my alcohol levels. Instead I go to the cafe. Just before I get to the door I wonder whether Col meant dinner as in lunch time, or dinner as an evening meal. Fuck it why do we have to use the same word for both?
I have a cup of tea and a ham and cheese salad sandwich. As I eat, I think about Mac’s little game and how my mum thinks it is really romantic and I must admit, now I agree with her although having to wait until tomorrow for my next clue is infuriating. Especially if it is evening meal dinner because if it is, there’s loads of places, bollocks lunch times too. The Nags is out, the only grub he sells are crisps, nuts and other shit out of bags or sweaty cheese rolls.
So my choices are, this cafe, Jamal’s, the Bee Hive and the House Martin, oh and that posh place with the French name what is it, les Cats must cats or something like that, I hope not, because that was where I suppose you could say I first got together with Dick.
The Bee Hive, I doubt that will be it, I can’t ever remember eating there with Mac. We’ve had a few lunches occasionally on a Saturday. I look at the clue again and realise he’s not saying where we have dinner, only I will get a clue after dinner. Jesus Christ, talk about keeping me in suspense. With nothing else to do, I go round to see Dick, why not? a couple of hours with him should take my mind off it.
Odd! His cars not here, he has been working from home since the first lockdown, hee hee, I’ve given him a blowjob a few times while he has been on a video meeting, that’s it. He must have had to go into his work for some reason. I would call him except we have agreed no calls and no texts either way, that seemed to be a good idea at the time, but now I find it frustrating, in more ways than one. Ah well, I’ll go home and do some washing and maybe watch something on the idiot box.
I stay home and do just that, I cook up that chop I got out last night and a baked spud.
Eight comes and goes, still no phone call, at half past I think bollocks to him, and set off to see Dick again.
Would you believe it, he’s still not here, disheartened I head home.
At home I check to see whether Mac has called me, of course he hasn’t.
I think about having a vodka and decide against it and see what’s on the idiot box, I see there’s a new series of Archer that we had missed, so I stick that on. When the little prompt comes up after three episodes, I decide to try Dick again and head over only to find he is still not there. I wonder where he has gotten to, he never said he was going away. Back home I half expect to find a message from Mac, but no, nothing. This time I do have a vodka, but unlike last night, just the one.
Wednesday drags, I go over to Dick’s again and he’s still not there, I get home just past quarter past twelve and do the ironing that I had put off yesterday. Hearing nothing by half one I am beginning to get annoyed, well more annoyed, two comes and goes, so I decide to try Dick again.
Guess what, he is still not fucking there.
I do myself a cheese sandwich for tea, I can’t be arsed to do anything else.
At seven o’clock there is a knock on the door, I half expect Colin to be standing there, but no, some young girl, I notice that she’s chewing, chewing gum, before I notice what she has in her hand. A white box, it’s about 10 inches wide, a bit over a foot long and about three inches deep. The girl asks, “Mrs MacColl?”
“Yes.”
“Delivery for you.”
I take it from her and close the door. Opening the box I see some bright red flowers, I think they’re chrysanthemums, but couldn’t swear to it. They are lovely, underneath the flowers is an envelope. I sniff the flowers, taking in their scent,before I open the envelope. I immediately find myself thinking of Dick, not Mac. I find it difficult to get Dick out of my mind for some reason and then I realise the flowers smell like Dicks aftershave. Confused I rip open the envelope.
these flowers you can see
represent your love for me
being away from you is a strain
I feel like I’ll never hold you again
your very next task ahead
you will find under your bed.
Still holding the flowers I literally run up the stairs and into our bedroom. Sure enough under the bed is another envelope. I am sure I had looked here yesterday while waiting for the washing, I don’t know how I missed it. Ripping it open I find.
To find where you go next
You must send me a text
but first, think you must
tell the last time we shared our lust
the day you may find too tricky
so name the month we last got sticky.
What’s he on about, it was last wee… No it wasn’t. I drop onto the bed as the sudden realisation that we hadn’t made love for some time, but it must be this month as it is the 30th now. I start to type March on my phone but now thinking about it, it might not have been. I clear that and start typing February, after all we must have done it on Valentines day.
Oh god, no, we had an argument because he… he… he said something about how we weren’t doing it. Guilt flows through me as I realise it has been six weeks since then, I think I am beginning to understand. I think back, nothing stands out, but why would it, we have been married for twenty years, it’s like food isn’t it, we don’t remember every meal, just the occasional special ones.
I am sure, no, I know we did it between Christmas and the new year because he wasn’t working, the reality smacks me in the face and it smacks me hard, oh no, I can’t believe it, I don’t think we have made love since December. The guilt is suddenly accompanied by shame and sorrow. How… how could I not. I know he has tried to get me in the mood, several, no many times but I always gave him an excuse, not in the mood, too tired, having an argument, whatever. No, no, he can’t give me all the blame, I don’t think he has tried since Valentines day, no after being turned down for six weeks and getting rejected on the lover’s day, why would he try. I know why I’ve let my relationship, if you can call it that, with Dick has, well, satisfied me I suppose. Shit, the reality of what I have been doing hits me and I burst into tears.
It takes a few minutes, but through the sobs and tears, my quivering hands type. [December, I am so sorry I didn’t realise. I promise I will never say no again, please forgive me.]
I read it through several times, each time thinking, no, that’s not enough, but I can’t think of anything else to say. I am scared that it’s not enough. After sending it, I remember the voicemail I sent him Monday night telling him he wasn’t going to get any nookie when he got home, god, how that must have seemed an empty threat to him.
I go downstairs and guess what, I reach for the vodka, pour myself a glass and sit there next to the house phone, with my mobile in my hand desperately waiting for him to reply. Of course, drinking a lot of alcohol when you are feeling down is never a good idea and two hours later I have managed to turn it all around in my head. I am thinking he has made me remember all those happy moments for no other reason than to slap me down and make me feel bad. I am getting more and more angry and adding fuel to the fire, I finish the orange juice and have to use orange squash.
I start to write a text, telling him I am on to his game, but the phone screen is blurry and keeps putting in the wrong letters. I give up and call him.
The fact that it goes straight to voicemail does nothing to dampen my ire and I let rip with a vengeance.
“You fucking bastard. I suppose you think you’re clever setting me up to remember all those loving times just so you could make me feel guilty because I haven’t fucked you as much as you want. Well you can go fuck yourself because you ain’t going to be fucking me any time soon. In fact I’m gonna move your shit into the spare bedroom, perhaps I’ll get a man in to see to me properly, perhaps I already h…”
It is spontaneous, I didn’t feel it coming until it came, I think I taste it, maybe even see it before I feel my stomach spasm. With spontaneous projectile vomit shooting out of me, I drop my phone and clamp my hands over my mouth and dash to the toilet managing to smash my face into the doorpost but that does not slow me down. Too soon I heave again and the seal though my clamped fingers fails, the pressure shooting it further in a thin line across the hall wall.
I keep retching long after I had empty my stomach. Sobbing piteously, I suddenly want Mac here to look after me, hold me, help me clean myself up, oh why wasn’t he here?
Sometime later, I rinse my mouth out in the washbasin straight from the tap and wash my face. I take off my top and put it into soak, half staggering I stumble up and go to bed.
I feel like shit when I drag myself out of bed, I hurt all over, especially my face and when I see myself in the mirror I can’t believe what I see. I have a bruise from just above my right eyebrow down my cheek to my chin. I throw some clothes on and head downstairs, of course the first think I see is a diagonal line of dried puke on the hallway wall. Oh great, that’s all I need. That brings back the memory of puking in the living room and, scared of what I will see I hesitantly look into the room.
My stomach heaves again as soon as I see and smell what I did, thankfully although it is painful retching there is nothing there to expel. I start crying again and return and get on my knees and set about trying to clean up the still drying mess.
I start in the living room and I find my phone on the floor beside the chair and suddenly a flash of memory hits me. I gasp and my every word of the call cascades into my head. Distraught, I sit back on the floor and cry.
There is a knock on my door, No! I think to myself, not now, I can’t face anyone now. Another knock, louder this time and it is accompanied by a voice, “Elaine, Elaine, I know you’re in there,” More knocking, “Elaine don’t you dare try and hide from me, I know what you did and what you said last night. You open this bloody door and I mean right bloody now.”
I suppose it’s a parent and child thing, but as much as I don’t want to see or talk to my Mother, I go and let her in.
As soon as I open the door her head seems to recoil and she says, “Christ Elaine, you stink of booze.”
I don’t answer, I just turn and go into the kitchen and fill the kettle, I hear a snort of what I assume is disgust as she follows me.
“I’m here because somebody phoned me first thing. He said Colin had gotten a drunken voice mail from you in the early hours and was very worried about you.”
I just stood there crying pitifully.
“Don’t waste your time with those crocodile tears, he told me the gist of what you said, so even if I was stupid enough to think they are real tears you’ll get no sympathy from me. I see you’ve been sick in the hallway and I can also see you’ve not even started to clean it up…”
My sobbing increases with renewed vigour and her words become meaningless to me as I collapse onto the kitchen floor crying. “I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it I was angry. I got drunk…”
“Don’t give me that. Tuesday you were bloody near gaga telling me how nice it was remembering all those lovely things and how much you loved him.”
“I know, I know I did but the next clue, it… it was horrible it made it seem like he built up all those good feelings just so he could hurt me more.”
“What are you on about you stupid girl? He would never hurt you. Bugger me girl, your father is besotted by me, but in comparison to your Colin, even I am envious of you.”
“I know, but you don’t know what he said to me in that note.”
“Why, what did he say?”
“He said,,, he said, Mum, it’s horrible, I can’t tell you what he said.”
“Where is this bloody note, I’ll read it myself.”
“No mum, you can’t.”
She scans the work surfaces in the kitchen and failing to see the note she heads to the living room. I chase after her, crying out mum no, please mum…” She reaches for the living room door, I plead pitifully, “No mum don’t go in there…”
“Oh Elaine, what… how… I can’t believe this, how much did you drin… Ah, here it is.”
She reads it and looks at me. We stare at each other for what seems like hours and she asks, “Well?”
I stand there feeling helpless trying to deny this is happening.
“If your answer was anything other than March you have a problem.”
I know I am repeatedly saying no, as I shake my head.
“Are you telling me you have refused your husband since February?”
My face contorts as it tries to expel tears that are no longer there, only croaks come out of my mouth as I struggle to answer.
“Longer, not even Valentines day, what’s wrong with you woman? January? You mean you have not had sex this year. Oh god no, he hasn’t but you have haven’t you?”
I feel her eyes boring into me penetrating into my soul. The silence is oppressive, I need her to say something, but when she does, I wish she hadn’t.
“You fucking disgust me…” I am shocked, she never uses that word, “The sick you have spread over this room and the hall is more acceptable to me than you are. You had better tell him and hope that he will forgive you. If he does that’s better than you deserve. I know if I had done that to your Father he would throw me out in a heartbeat and I will tell you this, if Colin does throw you out you needn’t come running to me and your Father, we won’t take you in. You’d better hope that, that, cunt you’re fucking can put you up, or is he married too?”
I gasp, I have hardly ever heard Mum really swear, other than the odd bloody and such and now she has said fuck twice and even the C word, that’s one even I almost never use. Desperately I try to talk, to tell her she’s wrong but my throat is too tight, I can’t get anything out and then she is gone, a fact emphasised by a loud slam, so loud I am surprised the glass didn’t shatter.
I had heard nothing back from my text or the voicemail, so again I am in limbo. As bad as I feel remembering my voicemail, my Mother has really driven it home. I doubt I could feel any worse than I do right now.
I wait in all day hoping to get another clue, or even a text telling me he understood my anger. I am now in fear for the future of my marriage and of course that reminds me of the many times recently I have led Dick to believe I am almost ready to leave Mac although I have never meant it.
I triy to go to bed early, but sleep will not come so I get up and sit staring at the idiot box until after three and sleep still does not come easily.
I awake with a start, glancing at the clock I see I have slept late. I jump out of bed and run down to see whether there is anything for me.
My heart skips a beat seeing an envelope that has been put through the letterbox, with trembling hands, I open it.
At last your quest is near the end
feelings have pushed you far
Now you wonder where I’ll send
you No stay where you are
He wants me to wait here. I breathe a sigh of relief, why? I don’t know nothing has changed but it makes me happier. I know that whoever dropped this through the letter box has probably been in contact with him. So he has, he must have understood my drunken rant. Feeling better, I suddenly realise I need to pee. I dash to the loo and sigh with relief again. I dress in clothes I can get dirty and really go to town cleaning the house.
I think about making something special for tea to welcome him back home. It would be a nice gesture and god knows I need to make plenty of them, but it’s Friday and generally on Friday’s we either eat out or have a takeaway.
I decide to go with tradition, not because I feel lazy, but because I think we… I should start trying to get things back to where they should be, back toward the way they were.
When he comes through the door I look at him carefully, but I really can’t see whether he is happy to be home or really unhappy. We just look at one another and neither of us speak. Still without saying anything he launches himself upstairs. I hear the wardrobe open and then several drawers. I can’t move. I’m sure he’s leaving me.
I hear the shower running and breathe again.
He comes down probably a bit quicker than I would usually expect. I finally manage to speak, smiling I say, “I don’t know whether to hug you or kill you.”
He just looks at me and says, “You can tell me in the car.”
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“You’ll know when we get there, come on, we have to go.”
88888888888888
Well. It’s here, the day I find out whether she is going to stay with me.
As I have been all week, I am up early and I set about walking around the house to make sure I have left no evidence that I was there. Nothing jumps out at me, so I head off to work.
The day passes and I leave at five for a change, as soon as I get to Dicks I start feeding him alcohol.
At first he refuses, but I explain to him that if he drinks all he can and passes out, I will set him free.
“Right, you bastard, if you grass me up, it will probably go nowhere. Her old man don’t know I’m here and you don’t know who I am, so you just chalk this up to one of life’s misadventures. If I find out you have spoken to the law, then I will be back and you will not live through it. Understand?”
“Yes.”
I give him moose’s milk, that’s white rum and milk. Why not, he’s got almost two cases of the rum in the cellar. I’ll give him his due, he gets through over a bottle before he passes out the first time. I wake him up and get him to drink another quarter bottle before I can’t get him to wake.
Of course, I’m not going to let him off that easily, I plan on leaving him a little surprise.
It is risky, but besides me there are only two other people that would be almost sure I am to blame for what must happen next and I was sure only one of them would consider telling.
I give the house another once over and once satisfied there are no telltale signs there has been anyone else here besides him, I check to make sure he isn’t waking up anytime soon and cut him free.
To get to my house from his, on a pushbike you can cycle through Cardington industrial estate where I was able to take the tape off my bike and dispose of the pallet wrap in a skip. It isn’t hard to see Elaine isn’t sure how to greet me. I go for a very quick shower while she is making up her mind, I hadn’t read any of the texts she had sent until then, and while I am actually showering I play the voice mails, I do laugh.