CHAPTER 6
I woke the next morning with Mary in that same position, spooning me, one hand cupping my breast. This time, she woke as I tried to slip out of bed.

“Oh… Sorry”

I abandoned my exit, turning to face her.

“It’s okay, love. You did that last night as well. It’s… It’s actually rather comforting. Please don’t worry about it”

I wriggled into a more traditional cuddle, with her head on my right shoulder, arm across my chest, and, as gently as I could, moved her right hand back to my left breast. Needless to say, I was hardly familiar with someone else touching it, and as far as I knew my wife hadn’t been involved that way, so I simply left her hand where it was after a pat to its back, and a peck to the top of her head.

“Are you okay, love?”

“Sort of… I’ve missed you, love. In bed, I mean. The warmth; the comfort”

“It’s a miserable morning, Mary”

“Yeah; I can hear the rain on the window. Sandy and Greg are camping? This time of the year?”

“I gather they’re a bit full-on these days”

“Portable heater for the tent?”

I started to chuckle.

“One of the York rallies, after she’d, after their wedding, was utterly miserable at the start. Touch and go whether they’d cancel, but once the committee decided to go ahead, and I got my tent up, just getting out of the wind felt like switching on a heater. I got into my sleeping bag for a bit, and it was fine, but that’s Summer. People arrived in all sort of shape, and one of our regulars, lovely man, lovely couple, brings a caravan with a huge tent thing on the side. We often have a sort of group warm-up in there. Anyway, that night we were in the Fox and Roman, a bunch of us, pub just off the race course, and Sandy got a bit pissed.

“We were all talking about strategies for keeping warm, and it went from a bit trainspotterish, about tent types and sleeping bag liners, merino jerseys, yeah, to jokes about towing a tiny caravan behind a tandem, or even one of those horrible family pedal things they have in France, and Sandy tells us all, a little too loudly, that she’s a traditionalist”

“And?”

“Wild animal sex. Those were her words. Poor Greg didn’t know where to look, so he’s saying something like ‘not now’, and she’s saying ‘of course not’ and ‘later’. The man was pink as anything”

“Ellie?”

“Yes love?”

Her hand tightened on my breast.

“While you were talking… Your… You have big nipples”

Her hand moved slightly, and suddenly we were kissing, properly, and then one thing led to other things, and finally THAT thing, the act I had thought was now beyond me, and breakfast became brunch.

As we faced each other over the table, Mary looked drained.

“That was… That was very nice, love, but, well, different. And if I’m right, if the internet’s right, you’ll be getting, you know. Impotent”

“Mary, my love, I really thought I already was. I don’t know what else to say”

She suddenly laughed, some of her humour fighting to the surface.

“You said plenty in bed! You were never so, well, explicit? Demanding? I don’t think you realised how sensitive… Start again. You only just found out how they worked, and sweetshop kiddy time”

“I’m sorry, love. If it weirds you out…”

“Ellie, love, it did ‘weird’ me, but not like that. I had my husband back, and there was a whole new area to make him go all wibbly”

Her mood turned serious once again.

“I don’t know if I can keep coping, love, but it is what it is. Do you feel up to going out?”

“Where?”

“Tesco, possibly Marks. Marks does a bra-fitting service. Trust me, it’s worth it. You can wear some of the new stuff, but you really need a decent coat. Cagoules and fleeces aren’t always appropriate. And Marks has a decent range of shoes”

She paused, before adding, “Thank god you’re still earning”

I did as he suggested, digging through my new clothing. Black roll-neck, tan tights, black shift dress, and that pendant once again, plus Carly’s gift handbag. Mary was in slacks and a similar jumper, and gave me the once-over before saying that I would do and leading the way to the car. I felt rather than saw curtains twitch, but never mind. I’d survived Australia, despite my best efforts; I could survive High Wycombe.

As we pulled away, I said, “Just remembered something, love. No, not something we’ve left behind. Perth has a light rail system, very handy, and if you’re heading for the airport, it’s great. When I wanted to sort the check-in before I came back, I sat for ages in the main Perth station looking for a train going to the airport. Let loads of them go before realising the end station on the airport line is called, er, High Wycombe”

That actually brought a laugh, thankfully.

“You can be such a divvy at times, love. Where do you want lunch? For some reason, I seem to have an appetite, and we will NOT be hitting any of the burger places. Marks café is a bit snacky, Tesco’s caff is gone, Pizza Express is going downhill, but there’s a Japanese place that looked good when I was last in Marks”

“Seafood?”

“Bloody Australians, sort of. Yes”

“Then have a wander round, leave food shopping to end, have meal at end. You’ve just had cheese on toast!”

“No wonder you got so thin”

It was almost like our old days of banter and pisstaking, and my spirits rose steadily as she drove us through the town to the multi-storey carpark. Into Marks first, and a very, very efficient fitting service.

“Where did you get such a tan at this time of year, Miss?”

“I was in Australia, their Summer. Got a bit hot”

“What were you doing there?”

“Cycle touring”

Mary added, “Which is how she lost so much weight, and why she needs a proper fitting”

“I can see!”

I bought four, in the end, wearing one ‘home’ as it were, and it did feel a lot more comfortable. Mary led me through the shoe department, where I picked up a pair of loafers, one of ‘ballet flats’ and a pair of maryjanes, all in black.

“I am not going to discuss heels with you, love”

“Never worn them, Mary. Not sure they’d be for me. I mean, I like the look of some of them, but so many are just ugly, and with the bike, yeah?”

She simply stared at me, then shook her head.

“H&M next, then, er, Next. First shop does comfy undies that aren’t granny knickers. Second one can have sort of surprise finds, including coats”

I ended up with multipacks of knickers, two pairs of wide-leg slacks and a long quilted coat with a hood, which was another item I ‘wore home’. It really was shitty weather.

The Japanese place was a delight, and I went a little overboard with the sushi and a big bowl of ramen soup after a mixed plate of gyozu. It felt almost like my body was fighting to grab back its lost territory, and Mary was no slouch in the eating stakes. She seemed to be riding on a high after our lovemaking, and there was no way I would undermine such a gift. We loaded the car with clothing and groceries, drove home, and once again I could feel the stares, although nobody actually emerged from their house.

The next morning, I started work, online, and that was a relief, in its own way. I was in T-shirt and long skirt, slippers on my feet, and my e-mail inbox held two packages ready for audit and formal report. It’s in the nature of the job that it can get very absorbing, due to the masses of details that need to be juggled, but usually a pattern emerges that provides much better focus on which aspect of lies is appropriate. With longer-standing clients, of course, it can be both easier and more difficult: easier in the sense that you know how they work, more difficult in the fact that most of them can’t help trying it on in the hope that their extra fibs are obscured by that same familiarity.

Terry and the rest largely left me to it, thankfully, as I slowly worked myself back into full-speed mode. The nights…

Mary made a point, now, of cupping my breast as soon as I lay down, and yes, we did manage a few more of those moments, but not many, as that part, that aspect, was steadily bowing out of my life. We visited Tesco a couple more times, we had another meal out at a Chinese place, and one weekend we had a video chat with Jacky’

“Hi, girl! So good to see your face again”

“Hi back, woman. This is Mary, my wife. She’s seen the incriminating photos already”

“Not that one with the quokka?”

“I didn’t get to see any quokkas”

“I did, and I got photos. Wanna see?”

“Please! Mary’s seen the restaurant snaps”

“That Perth Italian?”

“The very one. Sorting the pics out, Ellie. Keep talking”

“What happened with your ex?”

“Sore point, girl. I had to get lawyered up”

“What for, specifically?”

“What does Mary know?”

My wife gave me a sharp look.

“Ellie just described it as a nasty divorce”

“Yeah, more to it. He tried to rape our help. Our cleaner”

“Shit!”

“Yeah. He’d been treating me as a punch bag for aboat a year, till my Sis took him down. She’s a cop, and, well, her and Ellie, if you get me”

“I get you, Jacky”

“Was why I was so pushy with your girl, not to just give up. Hope I was right”

“I think you were. Thank you2

“All in a day’s being a human fucking being, woman”

I asked again what the score was with the husband, and she grimaced.

“He went down for a twenty stretch for the whole pile of shit, and our help got a shit-ton of compensation awarded. Trouble is, it’s shared assets, mine and his. The judge was apologetic, but it’s still going to hurt me, unless we find a way round it, and as he owes me compo as well, it’s complex as, as the Aussies say. Got other news, though”

“Go on”

“Clarice, big sis, eh? She’s been on my ass about moving on, putting the asshole behind me—don’t you dare, either of you! I KNOW it’s behind me, that’s where they usually are, but you know what I mean. Anyway, she’s been dragging me out on some of her Mounty Munches, as she calls them. Just a meal and a drink and a bull session”

Mary held up a hand to shush me.

“Who is he, Jacky?”

“It’s that obvious?”

“When your eyes go moist, yeah”

“Right. One of Clarice’s team. Jerome. Sis really vouches for him, but hey, DV rates are really high in cops. Er, wifebeating. Domestic Violence. I…”

Her confidence was ebbing.

“He’s really sweet, ladies, but, well, what if Sis is wrong?”