Surrey, England 2010

LIVING A LIE

Molly rose from her favourite armchair, wondering where James could be. He was very late. Placing her book on the walnut side table she walked across the room to the huge bay window. Pushing the Belgian lace curtains aside, she looked out onto the dark winter evening. The street lamp cast deep shadows over the long driveway and a half bare tree shivered in the cold November breeze. Molly shuddered. She hated the darkness with a passion. There was still no sign of James. She pulled a cord and the pale yellow silk curtaining closed with barely a 'swish'.

Molly's love for her late husband, Paul, was so deep that when he'd died at the age of forty-four without James she would have fallen apart. Paul was her one and only love. There were other boys before him, but she had only slept with Paul and then, only after they were married. How she ached for him now!

And James... She could remember clearly how it began. A telephone call one evening from a sympathetic James, shocked to hear of Paul's untimely death; a lunch with him at the most expensive Hotel in town; an evening together at her home going through the mountains of paperwork Paul had left behind. James Radnege, his friend, stepped into the breach and held her steady when she'd needed it most, but no one knew that she didn't love him and he didn't love her. If her friends or daughter Gemma knew they would be horrified. Even though James was legally her husband, she still felt a heavy weight of guilt upon her shoulders. Her marriage was a hollow, empty sham.

Molly's views on life were very outdated, but she held tightly to them, nevertheless. That was why, probably, what they'd done had shocked her so much and she was still shocked on a daily basis. How could any woman marry a man just because she couldn't bear to live on her own and was frightened of the dark? It was too childish for words. And yet she had and they'd both gained from the arrangement. She could honestly say James was kind and considerate, but there was no love between them, either romantic or otherwise and, to that end, they each had their own bedroom. Molly longed to be loved in the way Paul had loved her. Not just physically, but deeply from the heart. Without him, she felt utterly desolate.

She turned, walked across the luxurious lounge carpet and through the hall, where a shining crystal chandelier glittered overhead and into the large kitchen at the back of the house. It was a beautiful house and everything in it was beautiful and very expensive. James was extremely rich, having made a great deal of money on the stock exchange, although now he ran his own business. Quite what he did, she wasn't sure and she didn't care enough to find out. All she knew was that James was good at his job and was always cutting 'deals' where huge amounts of money were involved, thousands and often millions.

Reaching the kitchen, Molly crossed to the oven to check on the chicken casserole cooking inside; James' favourite meal. Everything was perfect. It was Molly's one true gift. She could make a meal out of anything. She'd learnt the art early on in her first marriage, as Paul had never earned much money, but they were very happy and money counted for little.

She ran her fingers over the kitchen worktop. It was truly gorgeous Italian marble, acquired by James at great cost and it's beauty never ceased to amaze her. That anything so expensive could be in a kitchen was hard to believe. She heard a car door slam and shortly afterwards the front door opened. James called out in his deep, gravel like voice:

"Molly, are you there?"
These were always his first words when he came through the door and they irritated her immensely. Of course she was there! Where else would she be?
"I'm in the kitchen" she called.

James walked briskly into the room. His eyes were bright, his face pleasant and although his hair was steel grey, he looked younger than his forty-seven years. He was of average height and chunky build, although not overweight.

"Had a good day?" he asked, walking past her and washing his hands at the kitchen sink.
"Yes. I met Jayne for coffee this morning."
"I'm glad. You should get out more."
Even these words annoyed Molly. James was always telling her what to do. Wasn't she old enough to make up her own mind, for goodness sake?
"Is dinner ready yet Molly, or have I time to change?" he asked, wiping his hands on the towel. He stood before her in a pale grey suit, with hair ruffled and tie askew. He had the habit of ruffling his hair as soon as he got out of the car and tearing at his tie, as if the action marked the end of a day's work.
"I'm just about to dish up" she replied. 

James sat down at the kitchen table and Molly served the casserole together with the vegetables, which were already cooked and waiting on the hob. She placed the food in front of him.

"Thank you. That looks good" he said, smiling up at her.
Molly sat opposite him at the other end of the long kitchen table, as far from him as possible. They sat in silence. James ate quickly and soon cleared his plate. Molly, who had little appetite, toyed with her food.
"I'm worried about you, Molly. If you don't eat, you'll waste away to nothing."

Feeling the tension in her face, she rose from the table and scraped the remainder of her meal into the kitchen bin. Her hands began to tremble.   Why wouldn't he leave her be?

"There's no need to worry, I'm fine."
James picked up his dinner plate, rose from the table and walked round towards her, placing the plate on the draining board. He was so close to her now that she could feel her nerves tightening. It was unbearable.
"You're anything but fine Molly. I think you should see a doctor, people will say I'm neglecting you." 

Avoiding his face, she looked down at the floor, the scraped plate still in her hand. She jumped, as he lifted her chin with his finger and looked into her eyes. The penetrating gaze was too much for her. Tears welled in her eyes and placing the plate on the kitchen table, she ran from the room. 

As she took the stairs, two at a time, she could hear him coming after her, but she reached her bedroom and locked the door before he caught up with her. Her hands were still trembling as she turned the key. She was fast becoming a nervous wreck and she had no idea what to do about it. He tried the door handle calling out softly,

"Molly, please, I didn't mean to upset you. I only want to talk, please open the door."
She could hardly speak, but managed to say, through her tears,
"I'm all right, just leave me alone will you and go away."
There was silence for a few seconds and then he replied.
"All right, but if you need to talk I'll be in my study" and he did as she wanted,
he went away. She heard him walk along the upstairs hallway and down the stairs.

Turning towards her bed she lay down on it and wrapped herself up in the duvet as if she were the sausage in a sausage roll. In a better state of mind, she would have laughed at herself, but she hadn't laughed for a very long time. Bereavement had that effect on a person. When she saw anyone laughing now, she found it hard to imagine what it felt like, laughter or happiness.

Molly lay on the bed for hours. At 11 o clock she heard James, as punctual as ever, climb the stairs to bed. A person could set their watch by James. She heard him come to her door and her heart lurched.

"Good night Molly" he called out "If you need anything, you know where I am. I'm sorry I upset you."
She replied "Good night" and then unwrapped herself from the duvet and decided to undress for bed. She put on a short, silky, blue nightdress, leaving her clothes in a tidy pile on the chair. Moving over to the door she listened, heard nothing and decided to go to the bathroom for a quick wash. James had an en-suite bathroom as he occupied one of the master bedrooms in the front of the house, but her bathroom was opposite, across the hall. Washing quickly she came back to her bedroom, closing the door behind her. 

She climbed into her double bed, but found it impossible to sleep. Thoughts of Paul filled her mind and she decided to look at photographs. This was a mistake. Paul, grinning up at her from photographs, only made her feel worse and then it started; that awful feeling of black emptiness and the cascading waterfall of emotions, which always ended in tears. She tried hard to stop them, but the tears came thick and fast and soon she was sobbing so loudly that she thought the whole street would hear. She put the photographs away, turned off the light and buried her head in the pillow, still crying loudly. The whole street didn't hear, but James did and all of a sudden, there he was, sitting on her bed.

"Molly, please don't upset yourself. Can I get you something?"

As she lifted her head, James reached for her in the darkness, wrapping his arms around her, like a warm blanket. She didn't want him to hold her, but she didn't have the strength either to talk or push him away. Leaning against his shoulder, she sobbed and sobbed until her eyes were sore, her throat dry and her face ached. He rocked her in his arms saying soothing things and Molly found his presence immeasurably comforting.

When she finally stopped crying, the unforgivable happened. Molly made a move on James. He was sweet and gentle and several times he said "Molly, are you sure?" and Molly, who was not sure of anything, allowed him into the bed and soon they were making love. The room was dark and she was glad of it and quite immorally, (she thought) she closed her eyes and imagined it was Paul in the bed with her. And it felt like him, tender, loving, Paul. 

Afterwards, Molly lay awake for hours and James lay at her side snoring softly and whistling through his nose. She tossed and turned for the rest of the night, unable to sleep. What a hypocrite she was! She had always thought it a truly, terrible sin for a woman to sleep with a man whom she didn't love and now look what she'd done!

At 5.30 am the next morning, as exhausted as she was, she decided to get up and dress before James awoke, then she wrote him a note explaining that 'last night' was a big mistake and would he please not mention it again. She was sorry, it was all her fault, but she'd been distraught. What else could she say? She taped the note to the outside of his bedroom door, making sure he would see it and then went downstairs to start breakfast. 

Down in the kitchen, she laid the table for breakfast, made several pieces of toast and filled the kettle. James always rose at 6.15 am and at that time she went into the downstairs hall. He was up and about, she heard him moving around. Running quickly up the stairs, she locked herself in her bedroom.

Hardly daring to breathe, she stood at her bedroom door, listening. She heard him approaching and gasped, almost expecting him to try the handle, but instead he pushed a folded piece of paper under the door. She stooped to pick it up and was almost afraid to look, but it simply read:

"I apologise for my behaviour last night, I took advantage of you.  I'm sorry, it won't happen again. I agree, best forgotten." 

Flooded with relief, she tore up the note, throwing it into the waste bin at the side of the fireplace, opposite the gorgeous black marble cat James had bought for her birthday, and sitting down in her comfy chair, waited for him to leave the house. When she heard his car start up, she rose and walked to the window and watched him drive away. 

Her thoughts turned to his note. It was strange that he was prepared to take the blame. It was entirely her fault and if she hadn't forgotten to lock her bedroom door, it certainly wouldn't have happened. Paul always said James was a perfect gentleman, perhaps it was true, but there was something about him, which frightened her somewhat, although what it was she didn't know.

Her day started badly. She wandered from room to room doing nothing in particular and when the phone rang at 11.00 am she jumped out of her skin. It was James asking if she was okay. He sounded very matter of fact and it helped to ease her mind. Half an hour later the phone rang again.

"Hello" said Molly.
"Guess who?"
A loud woman's voice shrilled down the phone, which at first, Molly didn't recognise.
"Come on Molly, you know me!"
Slowly, recognition dawned. It was her school friend Geraldine.
"Gerry! Where are you? I thought you were in Spain."
"Yes, but we've come home for a few days. We couldn't bear not to see an English winter," Gerry laughed. "I wondered if we could meet. I've got so much to tell you, it's electrifying!"
"That would be great! What did you have in mind?"
"Lunchtime, twelvish today, if that's not too short notice?"
Molly sighed. It would be such a relief to talk to someone and Gerry was a good listener who could be trusted to keep a secret.
"No, that's perfect. Where shall we meet?"
"I'll pick you up from your house, I've got the car."

At noon that morning, Gerry called in her rented car and after a brief tour of the house, drove Molly to an expensive restaurant called 'India's Delight.' Pictures of India adorned the lavishly decorated walls of red and elaborate wooden archways, painted white, separated different sections. Attractive brass lanterns hung, gleaming, from the ceiling and soft, seductive, Indian music filled the air. The exotic smell of spices hung in the air, like clouds. 

They chose a table near the window and sat down. A handsome, smiling Indian waiter bowed before them, handing over the menus.

"Before we order, could we have two glasses of wine, please?" asked Gerry. 

They discussed the wine. He nodded and went away to fetch their drinks.
"Never mind this" whispered Gerry leaning in towards Molly and pointing at the menu "I think I'd rather have some of that!" her eyes followed the waiter.
She laughed and Molly smiled. Gerry could always make her laugh. She always had something to say, even if it wasn't true. She often made believe she was having an illicit affair, but she'd been married to Sam for twenty-four years and was still madly in love with him.

Gerry's eyes lit up. She only had to think of Sam, and her eyes lit up and Molly could almost guess what she about to say.

"I'm divorcing Sam you know. He caught me in bed with a Spanish flamenco dancer, quite dishy and half my age! Sam was furious and I wouldn't have minded, but he was having a fling with a waitress in the bar. A right little trollop she was, black roots showing through her blonde hair and breasts like melons, she could hardly stand up straight!"

Molly laughed aloud, the sound taking her by surprise.

"One day it might happen, Gerry, you really shouldn't say such things!"
"I can't help it, it's just that the truth is so boring, I mean to say, married to an Estate Agent!" She rolled her eyes.
"Gerry, you'll never be boring, and poor old Sam; the things you say." smiled Molly.
"How is he?"
Tossing her head and setting her 'tiger's eye' earrings swinging, Gerry replied.
"Same as ever, you know Sam."

Molly's eyebrows knit together and her fingers plucked at the red serviette on her lap.

"You are happy though aren't you Gerry, Sam would never be unfaithful would he?"
Gerry smiled.
"No, of course not. Who on earth would want him?"
She changed her tone of voice and said softly,
"Of course I'm happy, Sam's wonderful, I love him dearly, but what about you? You look worn out, you poor thing."
"I do feel tired," said Molly "These last few months have been very stressful."
"I'm not surprised. Your mother was very ill after her operation wasn't she? Caroline wrote me."
"Yes, she spent three weeks in intensive care and at one point I thought she was going to die. It was an experience I wouldn't care to repeat."

Molly looked in her handbag for a tissue and blew her nose. 

"You've had a bad time." said Gerry "I'm glad you've got James."
"James took me to the hospital most evenings. He paid for mum's operation and for a private nurse when she went home. He's quite fond of mum."
"That's good." said Gerry.

Before Molly could continue the waiter returned and they chose their food. He wrote down their order, bowed and left. 

"Well, I hope they serve that on a dish!" said Gerry, watching as he walked away. Molly didn't laugh this time, but sat fiddling with her serviette.
Gerry sensed her distress.
"What's troubling you? It's not your mother is it?"
Molly dropped the serviette and clapped a hand over her eyes.
Molly thought: 'I mustn't cry. Not here and not now.'

Slowly gaining control of her emotions, she lowered her hand from her face and placed one hand on top of the other on the table, sighing deeply.

"It was tough, but mum's recovering slowly and my stepfather Ray, has been marvellous."
Molly stopped talking, not knowing how to express her feelings.
"You're worrying, aren't you? What is it?" asked Gerry.
Molly lowered her eyes and sighed again.
"It's James...  it's all gone wrong."
Gerry's eyes grew wide with fear.
"He doesn't beat you, does he?" she whispered.
"No. Not that."
"You really had me worried, I was thinking back to your father."
Molly glanced at Gerry and shuddered.
"No, James wouldn't do that. He doesn't seem to have a temper and I've never heard him raise his voice to anyone, even when he's been angry. It's not that Gerry..........it's........."
"Then what is it, James sounds like a good catch to me, rich, nice looking and kind. What more could a woman ask for?"
"It's difficult, I've made such a fool of myself."

Molly looked around to see if anyone was listening. Fortunately, the nearby tables were empty.

"I don't know what you'll think, but I don't love James I only married him for security. Oh Gerry, I'm such a wimp!"
In a state of agitation, Molly looked across at Gerry to gauge her re-action. Gerry frowned slightly and said "Go on."
"I hated living on my own and I'm so frightened of the dark, I've been quite paranoid since Paul died. When we married James said "there won't be anything physical" and there never has been... until last night. Oh Gerry, it was awful!"

The colour drained from Gerry's face and she leant closer to Molly across the table.

"He forced you?" she whispered.
"No, no, you've got it all wrong. It was my fault. I had a weepy session over Paul and you know how loudly I cry. I forgot to lock my bedroom door. I always keep it locked. I cried so loudly that James came in and he was so kind...I made a move on him..." she lowered her voice. "We made love..."
Gerry looked at Molly. "You dirty dog." And then she laughed out loud.
"It's not funny, Gerry, it's terrible! I don't love James, I don't even like James.
It was bad enough before, but now it's worse, if that's possible!" The look on her face said it all and Gerry leant across the table and patted her hand.
"If it's not working, you could always get a divorce."

Molly was startled.

"A divorce? But then I'd be back where I started. No I couldn't."
There was a pause as she watched Gerry sip her wine and place the glass back down onto the table.
"Do you think James expects you to sleep with him now, is that what's bothering you?"
"I left a note asking him to forget about it and he agreed."
Gerry waved a hand dismissively.
"Well that's all right then. Just forget it happened. Unless, of course, it was so damn good you couldn't possibly forget. I mean...was it?"
Molly caught Gerry's gaze and lowered her eyes, blushing deeply, but didn't reply.
Gerry shrugged her shoulders.
"Oh, for goodness sake. James is your husband and whether you love him or not what happened was not wrong and if you enjoyed it, so much the better. Just forget it and move on, that's all you can do and maybe in time you'll get to like him better. Even if you did marry him just for security, I'm sure no one would condemn you for it. You've had a bad time, how could anyone blame you? I certainly don't."

Molly fingered the wine glass, her eyes still cast down.

"It was a condition of our marriage, that I cook for his dinner parties when his clients come to discuss business and I can honestly say that I've enjoyed it. I've met some interesting people. Some of them are quite fascinating. James has been pleased with my work, so I have kept my side of the bargain."

Gerry was silent and Molly looked over at her.

"On our wedding day he gave me £75,000 to put into my bank account. He called it 'pocket money'. Can you imagine it?"
Gerry whistled.
"I'd say you've landed on your feet and why not?"
"If that's the case, why do I feel so terrible?"
"James is your husband and even if you don't love him, I don't understand why you feel so guilty. There must be hundreds of arranged marriages all over the world and women do sleep with their husbands, whether they love them or not. You didn't do anything wrong."
"But it felt wrong..."

Molly could say no more, as the waiter arrived with the food, which was placed on lit burners on the table. The waiter asked them if that was all, smiled, bowed and then left. Using the serving spoons, they served the food onto their plates and started to eat.

Gerry tasted the lamb curry.
"Ooh, how lovely! This is the best curry I've ever tasted!" she said.
"It is good, I knew you'd like it" said Molly. "James has brought me here several times."

Gerry picked up a chapatti, broke a piece and ate it. The remainder she placed on her plate. Molly did the same and tasted the rice.

"I've always thought that a woman shouldn't sleep with a man unless she really loves him and I don't really believe in sex before marriage, it wasn't right for me. That's why I feel so bad, such a hypocrite!" said Molly.

Molly watched Gerry lift up her wine glass and again sip the wine. Placing the glass back onto the table she smiled.

"I can just imagine the headlines on the front page of the News of the World "Man has sex with his wife" everyone would be shocked to the core. What a dreadful woman you are!"
Gerry laughed and Molly smiled.
"You think I'm stupid, don't you?"
Gerry continued to laugh and Molly sighed.
"I wish things were different. If only Paul was alive, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"I'm so sorry," said Gerry "but these things happen. No one knows what lies around the next corner."

They sat quietly pondering the uncertainty of life, when Gerry said,

"Actually, I've got some good news, Tracey's expecting a baby, that's why we came home. We're keeping our fingers crossed this time, after the miscarriage, but she's four months now so it should be all right."
The talk about the baby lifted Molly's spirits.
"Oh Gerry, I'm so pleased for you."
Gerry paused, her face held a half smile.
"I bet you any money the baby will be just like Sam. No hair, no teeth and constantly whingeing."
They looked at one another and laughed.
"It is true, 'laughter is a good medicine'" said Gerry.
"When is the baby due?" asked Molly.
"June 10th, so it will be a summer baby. I can't wait!"

They talked about their teenage years, laughing their way through the meal. It was amazing all that they remembered. Molly felt so relaxed she ate everything on her plate. When the meal was over, she paid the bill, much to Gerry's disgust. 

It started to rain as they left the restaurant and they hurried to the car. As they fastened their seat belts Molly said, 

"I've really enjoyed your company Gerry, thanks so much for listening, it's been a great help."
Gerry started the car engine.
"You paid the bill, so thank you."
Molly smiled.
"Well, after all, I have to start making a dent in that £75,000 or James might want it back." 

Gerry drove Molly home and as they stood by the car they hugged one another.

"Keep in touch, Gerry and let me know how Tracey gets on."
As Gerry kissed Molly's cheek, she felt around her waist.
"Gosh, Molly, you've lost weight, there's nothing to you!"
"Don't you start, James is always saying that!"
With a concerned look on her face, Gerry took Molly gently by the shoulders.
"You must take care of yourself, because if you don't, no one else will. Promise?"
"I'll try."
"Good!"

After a few tears, they said goodbye. Gerry climbed into the car and drove away, Molly waving until the car disappeared into the distance. Feeling much happier, Molly unlocked the front door. As she entered the hallway she was startled by noises coming from the study. There was an intruder in the house! Her heart thumped wildly against her ribs and picking up a large umbrella from the stand, she walked towards the study door, hardly aware that it was a very foolhardy thing to do.

END OF PART ONE