Living A Lie

"I'm sorry to disappoint you Mr Radnege, but you do have to go home, we can't keep you here any longer," said Dr Brown sarcastically as she placed the clipboard back onto the end of the bed. Molly was sitting on a chair by James bedside. The deep cut on his forehead had required six stitches and he had a black eye.

"I still can't believe it" he said.

"That we'll let you go home?" asked Dr Brown, raising her bushy eyebrows.

"No, that I didn't have a heart attack, I've never felt such pain."

"Well, indigestion can be very painful."

"I feel like a fraud."

"Just be thankful it wasn't a heart attack. Goodbye, Mr Radnege."

Dr Brown offered a firm handshake.

"I hope I don't see you here again, if you get my meaning. Must get on....lots to do..." she muttered and left the room. James laughed loudly. "Not her favourite patient" he said as he climbed out of bed. Molly stood up smiling and handed him a bag of his clothes.

"I'm not sure she would have one."

"I can't wait to get home" said James reaching into the bag. "The food was awful and that bed...like a rock!"

As he removed his pyjama top and pulled on a T-shirt, Molly said "I'll wait outside."

Standing in the corridor of the private hospital, she gazed distractedly out of the window and was silently thankful that he hadn't died. What would she do without him? She knew now without a doubt that she loved him, the feelings having crept slowly up on her, little by little.

* * * * * * * *

It was with some surprise that Molly passed her theory test and then by the middle of April, her driving test. At first, driving the new car made her feel uneasy, but she soon gained confidence and enjoyed driving on her own. James said, cracking a joke as usual, it didn't matter if she pranged the car as long as she kept herself safe.

One sunny morning at the end of April, James walked into the kitchen and smiled his wide, boyish smile. Molly's heart skipped a beat.

"Fruit for breakfast?" he asked.

"I thought we'd try to eat more healthily." she replied, trying to ignore her feelings.

He sat down at his place. Molly poured their tea and he sugared his cup. She sat down opposite him.

"We seem to get through an awful lot of sugar. It's not good for you, is it?"

"It's not good for you either Molly, what are you going to do about it?" he laughed.

"I meant it's not good for anybody, not good for us."

He was in one of his 'jokey' moods this morning, when everything she said would be turned on it's head and it left her feeling frustrated, the more so because he was so attractive in this mood, his eyes sparkling..........and that confounded dimple in his chin!

She finished her breakfast, quietly. He ate a hearty breakfast and then walked into the hall. Molly followed him, wishing to wave him off. Taking his overcoat from the hallstand he put it on, then turned to face her. He stepped towards her, his eyes dark and frowning. He was so close she could feel his breath on her face.

"I can't go on like this...I really can't...we have to talk."

His words of doubt caused her heart to palpitate and she jumped as the grandmother clock chimed the quarter hour. James lifted his arm and glanced at his watch.

"Is that the time? I must go, or I'll be late. I've an early appointment."

He picked up his brief case and walked towards the door. Molly ran after him.

"James, please! What do you mean?"

He turned back to her "We'll talk... tonight."

The door opened and closed. James had gone. Her heart fell. She wondered what it could be. By the serious expression on his face she knew it was something to worry about. Perhaps he was in love with Suzy? It was possible, they spent enough time together. Maybe he wanted a divorce?

In a state of confusion, she walked back to the kitchen to clear away the breakfast things. As she was putting the butter into the fridge, the phone rang in the hall. It was Gerry.

"You always seem to know when to call." said Molly.

"Why? What's happened?"

"I don't know where to begin."

"At the beginning?" suggested Gerry laughingly.

Molly sighed.

"I've fallen in love with James, but I don't know how to tell him."

"Ooh, when did this happen?"

"I told you about the holiday, I think it started from there. The trouble is, I don't know what he thinks about me. He's just left for work and he said "I can't go on like this." What's that supposed to mean? And you should have seen the look on his face. Oh Gerry, what am I going to do?"

"When's his birthday?" asked Gerry "You could always jump out of a large cake, stark naked, with a red bow tied around your head. It usually works for me!"

The joke was lost on Molly. Feeling downcast she replied,

"I'm wondering if he's in love with his secretary, Suzy and wants a divorce."

"But she's in her late twenties."

"Well, it happens."

"Yes, but at your wedding Sam was talking to James and James said he didn't like to see younger women with older men, so I don't think that's right. It would make him a hypocrite and James isn't like that...is he?"

"No," said Molly "He usually means what he says."

"Well then, stop worrying. It's probably something else, but ring and let me know, I'm intrigued."

Molly promised to ring, but put the phone down feeling no better for sharing the problem. However, there was no time to worry about it as Janet Prowse came to clean on a Tuesday and then during the afternoon Roger, the gardener, was coming to discuss some new plantings and they planned to visit the garden centre to look at trees.

The day passed happily enough, although from time to time, Molly's thoughts turned fearfully to James and what he needed to say.

Around 6.00 pm she went into the lounge to wait for him, not wanting to conduct a serious discussion in the kitchen. She sat on the sofa with an open book on her lap. She read the same page several times, but the words made no impact. Then she heard his key turn in the lock. She heard him close the front door and walk along the hallway and she sprang nervously to her feet just as he walked into the lounge, with his suit jacket slung over his shoulder. His tie was undone and his thick grey hair was sticking up from his forehead.

"Oh, there you are, Moll."

He threw himself into a chair and stifled a yawn with his hand.

"Had a good day?" he asked looking directly at her.

Molly avoided his eyes.

"No, not really. I've been worrying all day. This morning you said "I can't go on like this" and I don't know what you meant."

James rose slowly to his feet and walked up to her and for a moment, trying to read his facial expression, she was alarmed.

"I shouldn't have married you" he said.

She turned away from him sharply and faced the window. Although she fought against it tears filled her eyes. So she was right, he did want a divorce.

"If you want a divorce James, I won't make a fuss and I don't want any of your money, I..."

Immediately, he caught her waist and jerked her gently towards him, then lifted her chin with his finger and stared deeply into her eyes.

"No! Let me finish." he said. "I shouldn't have married you when you were grieving, it wasn't fair of me, it's been hard on you. And I don't want a divorce, what gave you that idea? I'm very happy. And that's because of you. I love you!"

He lowered his deep voice.

"I want you."

Molly stared at him in silence, overwhelmed by his words. He continued.

"I want you in my bed each night and I want to wake up with you each morning...I want to make love with you. That's what I meant, I can't go on being so close to you and yet so far. These last few months have been torture."

Sighing with relief, Molly lifted her hand and stroked his cheek, then gently pressed her finger into the dimple on his chin.

"Oh, James, I want you too." she replied. "I love you."

"I used to think Paul was so lucky." said James "When he died I couldn't help myself, I had to have you before someone else snapped you up."

He pulled her closer, kissing her finger tips and then her lips.

"Your bed... or mine?" he whispered.

Molly smiled.

"Yours."

Not that they got that far.

Molly propped herself up on her elbow and looked across at the alarm clock on the other side of the bed. It was 5.30 am. James was lying at her side, whistling softly through his nose. The duvet covered his head and she wondered if he always slept that way. She lifted it and looked at him. His face looked grumpy, which was so unlike him. She laughed softly, placed the duvet back over him and turned round to her side of the bed. Snuggling down into her pillow she thought how far she had come, from the woman who had once stacked shelves at Tesco. She was married to a wonderful man, a very funny and loving man. Everything was perfect; except for the 'fly in the ointment', Sean Williams.

Molly was at Marks and Spencers Food Hall buying supplies for the next dinner party, loading bottles of wine into the boot of her Renault from a shopping trolley. Mr Toshimoto was coming with his entourage. As he didn't speak English, he always brought an interpreter. Although Suzy could speak several languages, Japanese was not one of them.

Mr Toshimoto was a lovely little man, with impeccable manners and an irrepressible sense of humour. James said he was extremely difficult to deal with as everything had to be checked and double checked, but nevertheless he greatly admired his business acumen. Molly laughed every time she thought of him. James had joked about him saying he was jealous of him having Molly as a wife. "Mr Toshimoto said to me 'Hames, you vely rucky man'." he'd said. She knew it wasn't true. Molly was looking forward to seeing Mr Toshimoto again, but she wasn't sure she would be able to look him in the eye. James' wicked sense of humour would get him into trouble one of these days, if it hadn't already.

With these thoughts in mind, Molly closed the boot of her car and pushed the trolley back to the store. She turned around and started back. Further down the car park, someone was shouting and causing a spectacle. It was then that she saw him.

Standing next to a car, three cars down from hers, was Sean Williams, shouting and swearing at a woman who was helping three unruly children into a dilapidated, burgundy coloured car. His shaved head and arms were covered in tattoos. Dressed in a shabby T-shirt and dirty jeans, he looked like the person he was, mean and aggressive. The woman, wearing a grubby plaster cast on one hand, shouted back at him and Molly watched as he pushed her roughly against the car, then twisted her arm behind her back. Reaching into the car he slapped a small child, his hand hitting the child's flesh so hard that Molly heard the slap from where she stood. The child began to yell.

Molly's heart thumped wildly as she walked to her car and climbed into the driver's seat. She leant down into the glove compartment, trying to be inconspicuous, but also trying to keep one eye on Sean Williams. Eventually, they got into the car and drove away, he at the wheel. With a screech of tyres and a cloud of thick black smoke, his car left the car park.

Molly was shaking. Bile rose to her throat. The man was brutal. Without thinking, she started up her car and followed him out onto the main road. Trying to keep her distance, she followed his car for several miles. At one point they passed the place where Paul had died, his car being forced off the road by Williams on his motorbike as he dangerously overtook a car. Paul, swerving to avoid him had plunged into the fast flowing river, unusually swollen with flood-water, and had drowned before he could open his car door. His only injuries were superficial. As they drove by, Molly wondered if Williams felt any pangs of remorse, but she doubted it.

Finally the car drew into the neglected front garden of a house, where weeds stood waist high. Molly watched as he parked the dusty car next to a large motor-bike, which in contrast gleamed and sparkled. She pulled up nearby, and watched as the family spewed out of the car and were pushed and shoved by Williams into the house amidst more shouting and foul language. Her heart went out to the children. She remembered her own sadistic father. How could she forget?

She waited for a few moments, watching as Williams fiddled with mirrors on his motor-bike. Then he went into the house, banging the door behind him. She got out of her car, crossed the road and walked past the house, taking note of the number. A huge lorry drove by. There was barely room, but the driver slowed down and managed to squeeze past her car without mishap. Looking down the road, she saw industrial units at the end on a T-junction and she assumed the lorry was heading for one of them.

Molly walked back to her car feeling disturbed. Hatred ran like fire through her veins. She was determined to punish Williams. He had no right to live when he had shattered one life and taken another. But what could she do? She would have to give the matter some thought.

On the way home, she again passed the place where Paul had drowned. She pulled in by the wayside and walked to the river. A large bunch of fresh flowers had been placed on the newly erected fencing with a card written in James's handwriting.

"Miss you, buddy."

Tears pricked her eyes and she glanced down at the brown river, lazily winding it's way through fields. It looked harmless now, although it had also played it's part in Paul's demise. In a deeply reflective mood, she walked back to the car and drove home.

As Molly hung laundered shirts in the walk-in cupboard in their bedroom, James came up behind her. He placed his arms around her waist, caressed her stomach, then kissed her neck.

"Darling, what's wrong? You're very quiet."

She turned to face him.

"I saw Sean Williams today and I..."

He touched her lips with his finger.

"Shush. Forget him."

He led her to the bed and lay down with her. And she did forget for a while as they made passionate love. But vengeful thoughts returned with the dawn.

The next day Molly returned to Williams house at 3.o.clock in the afternoon. It was raining steadily. Williams was outside, loudly revving up his motor-bike. Molly watched, preparing to follow him. Suddenly, a white van came speeding down from the industrial units and just as Williams turned out of his front garden onto the tarmac, it overtook a parked car, clipped the motor-bike and sent it skidding into the path of an oncoming car. Molly screamed as the car screeched to a halt.

Williams lay beneath the wheels, one bloody, tangled mess. All involved were shocked. From her car, Molly rang for an ambulance and watched as a passing pedestrian attempted to give first aid, kneeling beside the body and working away. After some time, he stood up and shook his head. Williams was dead! His wife and children came out of the house and were crying and sobbing. Not wanting to found in the vicinity, Molly drove home by turning down a side street before the Police and ambulance arrived.

Instead of feeling relieved that Sean Williams was dead, she felt deep guilt. Every minute of every day she had wished him dead and now he was dead. What kind of person was she? She felt deep shame. If it was true that wishing for something long and hard enough made it happen, then this was her fault.

Although not a catholic, after weeks of feeling guilty and not sleeping she decided to go to Paul's priest, Father Thomas, to talk it over. James said if Sean Williams chose not to wear a crash helmet that was his look out.

It was gloomy inside the church of St Francis. People were gathered near the confessional waiting their turn. One woman was occupied dusting the pews and another, removing faded flowers from the altar. As Molly moved down the aisle she spotted a young priest coming from the confessional. Where was Father Thomas? In her disappointment she spoke out loud "Oh, no!" The woman dusting, heard her. "Is something wrong? Can I help?"

"I needed to talk to Father Thomas, but he's not here." Molly replied.

"I'm afraid he's ill at the moment, he's got stomach problems. Aren't you Paul Wedmore's wife?"

"Yes... I was" said Molly.

The woman, who introduced herself as Mary Simpson, drew her to the back of the church and they sat together in the end pew.

"We were shocked to hear of Paul's death, it must have been hard on you," she remarked.

"Yes, it was at the time." Molly replied.

"My husband, John knew Paul quite well. He always said Paul was a good man. Better than him actually, John left me 18 months ago for another woman. So much for Catholics.; I only joined this church for him, but I've settled in and children like it here. I was brought up as a Baptist and..." she lowered her voice and smiled at Molly, "Don't tell Father Thomas, but I hate confession. I think it's waste of time, I've always told my sins to God so why do I need a priest? When they've all gone home, I kneel at the altar rail and tell him everything and I go home happy. Father Thomas can't get his head around it. I'm worrying him sick, obviously." She laughed.

Mary's friendliness encouraged Molly to open up.

"Paul wasn't that good, he had a one night stand with someone he worked with. I only found that out recently."

"Who told you that?"

Molly looked puzzled.

"My daughter and one of his friends."

"He didn't tell you himself?"

"No, he'd died before I found out."

Mary shook her head.

"There's been a misunderstanding. I expect Paul said he'd been unfaithful. In fact, that's exactly what he said to John, but it wasn't strictly true. It was a kiss, nothing more than that. Bad, perhaps, but not a one night stand at all. And I believe from what John said that it was instigated by her, he was only tempted momentarily and kissed her in return. That's all it was, a kiss."

Molly walked to her car in a catatonic state. Only Paul could do this, she thought. Knowing him the way she had she could quite believe him thinking he had been unfaithful and making others believe it too, by leaving things unsaid or implying unfaithfulness by what he said. She drove home in turmoil and when James closed the front door behind her, she fell into his arms and sobbed as if her heart would break.

In her bedroom that night, she looked out of her window into the darkness. There was a full moon, but as she looked up, it disappeared behind the clouds. "Father God" she said "Please forgive me for the hatred I harboured against Sean Williams......I'm truly sorry. Please fill me with your peace." At that precise moment the moon appeared bright and glowing from behind the clouds. It was an emotional moment for Molly and tears pricked her eyes as she was filled with wonderful peace. God was listening. At last, the awful days of hatred, confusion and grieving were over and done with. Now she could move on with her life.

To make amends, Molly often went to Sean Williams house and pushed packets of money through the letter box marked 'From a well wisher' and by keeping a close eye, she gradually saw improvements. Crisp, white net curtains soon hung at the sparkling windows. The garden was gradually tidied and one day, she also saw his children arriving home at the end of afternoon school, looking smart and happy, as she watched from her car parked opposite the house.

Once, whilst she was pushing a packet of bank notes through the letter box, she noticed a message taped onto the lounge window:

'To our Well Wisher, We love you, we love you, we love you. Thank you so much.'

The message was decorated with red hearts and made by the children. It made her day.

****** * * * * *

Molly was in the lounge waiting for James. Glancing at the carriage clock on the mantle-piece, she stood up and walked to the bay window. Pushing the lace curtains aside, she looked out onto a sunny June evening. The glorious garden, full of pink geraniums, busy lizzies and blue pansies told it's own story. The sunshine cast faint shadows over the long driveway and leafy trees swayed in the warm breeze. There was still no sign of James, but he would be home shortly and tonight they were meeting their friends Jane and Gary at 'India's Delight'.

It wasn't hard to imagine what James would say, when he opened the front door, hair ruffled and tie askew.

"Molly, are you there?"

She warmed at the thought. Yes, she was there, happy in the knowledge that he loved her. Where else would she be?

THE END

I hope you enjoyed this story.

I certainly enjoyed writing about a rich man and a beautiful, expensive house as I am (hard working) working class and will never achieve such wealth! We can but dream...