by Alan G Boyes
The next few weeks Cindy spent around the house and gardens, keeping busy and her mind occupied. Despite her lack of feeling towards Alan, she loved Red Gables. She had devoted a lot of time to the planting of the garden with her choices of bushes and perennials, bulbs and fruit trees. Many of these were now fully established and the garden looked colourful and interesting throughout most of the year. It was also what she termed “low maintenance”. The total plot exceeded a little over three acres in size, but its upkeep now did not take up so much time as to be intrusive, as she and Alan employed a gardener to mow the grass, edge the borders and prune the bushes and hedges. Weeds had been controlled by the prolific use of bark chips and only minimal intervention was needed to keep the gardens looking their best.
She had also decided to go out more, visit various acquaintances in the neighbouring villages or invite them round for coffee. The meetings provided a ready excuse to be out of the house and catch up on the village gossip, and through them she made a couple of good female friends, who were excellent shopping companions in Cheltenham or Oxford. She also joined an exclusive Ladies Only gym, not that she needed to lose weight but because she was keen to get fitter. Her training sessions with the gun dog club had necessitated a lot of walking and standing, and there had been times when she had become aware of just how much stamina members seemed to have. On more than one occasion, when walking up a steep hillside, she had gratefully accepted the offer of a springer that she could take hold of by its slip lead. The eager dog, typical of the breed, pulled her along, thereby easing the strain on her lungs and legs.
Alan would occasionally come down midweek, but it was the weekends that Cindy dreaded most. Try as she might, she could not find it within herself to be totally relaxed in Alan’s company, and she kept inventing new excuses to go out or force herself to appear interested in whatever conversation they were having. She would try to write more of her latest novel, but the solitude it entailed paradoxically made it harder to concentrate as when she was alone she kept thinking of Gordon, and conjured up pictures in her mind of how Mealag must look in the snow of winter. Fortunately the gun dog meetings, formal and impromptu, carried on at various times and were an increasing source of material for not just one feature but several. Her agent had been able to secure an excellent publishing deal for them in a high-priced monthly glossy magazine aimed at A and B class readers but of the type who liked to read about the countryside and all aspects of country life rather than enact it, and whose interest in rural pastimes did not extend to getting their shoes, let alone boots, muddy.
By late October, Alan had almost exhausted himself trying to please Cindy and was seriously worried that she might have permanently drifted away from him and that her love, or at least close affection, might not return. On several weekends he had mentioned to her that he should like to discuss their relationship and feelings for each other, but Cindy had always avoided it and also failed to give any indication of when she might be ready to talk to him. He felt quite helpless, utterly bereft of any ideas that might rescue his failing marriage. The calamity of their weekend away in the Lake District still haunted him, but Cindy had not at any time referred to it nor used it as an excuse. He still loved his wife, but it was obvious this was not reciprocated. He tried not to show his anger and frustration when Cindy pointed out to him, as she usually did, that of course she was happy.
“Look at the work I’ve done in the garden,” she would tell him. “And don’t I still cook you your favourite meals when we’re together?”
Alan acknowledged this was all true, but he also silently believed such protestations were a sham designed to avoid the real issues. Yet Alan had to face the fact that he had no evidence Cindy was embarking on an affair. Her attitude had been the same for months. During this troubled time, there had been no strange phone calls where the caller suddenly puts down the receiver. There were no evenings when Cindy was out late. She always said where she was going and who she was with and so on. He had seen the draft articles she had written on the gun dog club, and Cindy seemingly spoke quite openly about the people she met there, just as she had about the gym or anything else.
Frustratingly, reluctantly and sadly, he had to accept the position. He wasn’t happy about it, but he needed Cindy and would always love her, even if she would not share his bed and satisfy his needs. He was in his mid-thirties, had a successful and lucrative career and he needed physical affection. He had been patient but something had to change if Cindy was to continue to work out her hang-ups month after month without any apparent resolution in sight.
After a couple of large glasses of whisky, he broached the delicate subject in as light hearted a manner as he could muster. Alan put his crossword down onto the glass coffee table, and in a slightly jocular tone, his anxiety making his speech more clipped than usual, spoke to Cindy.
“Cinders, I know what you’ve said about being happy here and all that, and of course you do know that I love you so much, but I can’t really be expected to sleep alone for the rest of my life. I need physical affection. You surely understand that. I should have thought… you would also want that in your life.” The last few haltingly spoken words trailed slowly across the space between them.
“Oh Alan, you’re not on this again are you? Look, I’m really very happy and when I’m not you will be the first to know. But if you’re saying that you want to try and find someone else that can give you the affection you need, then I understand. You deserve better than me Alan. I’m sorry but I really don’t think I can give you what you want anymore.” This was at least honest, she thought, and no more than she had said after their last physical encounter. Alan started to explain that he didn’t want to find anyone else but Cindy rose from her chair cutting him off mid-sentence.
“Coffee or another whisky?” she enquired, but didn’t stay in the lounge long enough to hear his answer. The whisky, allied to Crossland’s inner tensions, seemed to be having more than its usual affect. Alan began to get quite angry and when Cindy returned, he raised his voice at her.
“Then we must consider a divorce, Cindy. We cannot go on like this.” Cindy had not expected this, and with her relationship with Gordon still to get to first base, she was not going to say anything she might regret. She still liked Red Gables, and her current life with Alan had a lot to commend it. She knew a lot of women would be deeply envious of her creature comforts and the life she led. This was not the time to be impulsive and throw it all away. That moment, should it come, would be when it suited her and when she was absolutely certain she could improve upon the life she had now.
“Why on earth would we want to do that? Look at what we have both achieved over the years. We make a good team, you and me. I know the sex thing with me is a bit strange at the moment – and you hardly helped that, remember – but I can’t really explain how I feel at the moment. I’m sure it will sort itself out, but if you have someone else in mind then tell me. I would understand.”
This was disingenuous. Cindy knew it. Alan knew it, but there was nothing he could say other than to repeat his love for Cindy. He rose and poured another whisky.
16
The weekend discussion had, however, alerted Cindy to the tricky situation with which she was going to be faced at Christmas. There was, of course, the problem of what she was going to tell Alan, but additionally there was always the possibility that even if Gordon and she got together over the festive season all might not work out well, or continue as she was hoping. Ideally, she had to find a plausible excuse to placate Alan which would permit a continued life back at Red Gables if needed. She knew that simply not telling her husband the truth would be difficult and she began to lose confidence. Whatever she came up with was going to be hard to carry off convincingly and whatever she ultimately decided it was almost inevitable that her relationship with Alan would deteriorate further.
She thought of little else over the next few days and wished she had a brother or sister living the other side
of the world that she could say she was visiting and whom she could rely upon to cover for her. There were few friends she knew well enough to ask such favours from and, anyway, she thought that to ask one’s friends to lie for you, whilst you conduct an illicit affair, would be a particularly shitty thing to do. Whilst sitting at her computer one day she thought of Peter and his boyfriend, Stephen. Alan had only met Peter and Stephen once, at a party, and Cindy gained the impression that they were not overly impressed by him. Peter was extrovert and Alan was a naturally reserved, quiet person who did not seem able to relax amongst the strange guests at the party. Cindy went alone to their future invites. Her work had brought her into frequent contact with Peter, whom she regarded as a most dear and trusted friend. At the very least he would provide some advice to her, but could she trust him enough to lie for her at Christmas?
Despite her misgivings, she phoned Peter’s personal mobile and was relieved when he answered. Pleasantries over, she asked if he had a few moments to talk.
“Of course, my dear. For you, anytime.”
“Peter, this is a simply dreadful thing to ask but are you and Stephen going away at Christmas? Have you made any plans?”
“Why? Do you want us to join you sometime over Yuletide or do you wish to join us in Portugal? You will always be welcome.”
“No, it’s not that, Peter. I have problem. I need to be away at Christmas and probably New Year, but I will not be with Alan. In short, I may need some sort of cover and wondered if I could possibly say I was coming to you, or some such. I really don’t know quite what to do; I can’t seem to think straight on this. It’s an awful thing to ask of you, but this means so much to me.”
“Oooooh. I see” Peter slowly exhaled. “Well, this is your business Cindy, so I won’t ask, but we go back a long way and you will always be a friend. It could be tricky though,” he was thinking hard as he spoke. “I know” he said. “Say you have been invited to spend Christmas with me and Stephen. You have absolutely no details or other information as it’s a mystery – you must stick to that as Alan is bound to pressure you for information – but you understand we are hosting a sort of a special gathering for the old backroom people from Number 10. All I’ve told you is that we won’t be staying in London and to bring your passport. If Alan phones me, and I doubt it will happen but it just might, I will confirm only what I have just told you. Once Christmas is upon us, Stephen and I will be gone and out of contact so there will be no way Alan can check on your whereabouts. Give me a call after your holiday and I can then tell you all about what happened in Portugal.”
“Peter, thanks, thanks so much. Are you sure you don’t mind? I feel really bad at having to ask.”
“My darling Cindy, for you to ask it must be important and what else are friends for? I shall always be your friend, but should Alan ever find out about my involvement in this it will in all probability cause him a great deal of understandable resentment and anger. To be brief, it is likely to end our mutual friendship. Perhaps sometime you will tell me the reason you ask this of me. Until then, say no more.” Cindy was overwhelmed. It was not perfect, and still had a lot of risks, but it might just be enough, she thought. Cindy delayed mentioning Christmas knowing that sooner rather than later Alan would bring the subject up in conversation. She didn’t have to wait long and the following week he asked what they should do.
“Is it the usual Christmas this year, with the parents staying with us or should we go there?” he enquired. Cindy rejoined that it was up to him as she had already told him she was going to spend Christmas with Peter and Stephen, but she was unaware of the exact whereabouts as Peter wanted it to be a surprise. Alan was dumbstruck. He knew she hadn’t mentioned any such thing, and after saying so a heated argument broke out.
“Are you saying I can’t go, then?” Cindy indignantly shouted. “Or is it that you want to come to? You didn’t say so when I mentioned it a month or so ago, but if you do then say so and I will ask Peter if partners are invited – but you know you didn’t like him and I doubt you’ll enjoy spending several days at Christmas in his and Stephen’s company, to say nothing of their gay friends.”
“Bugger you Cindy. I either come with you, somewhere God knows where, doing God knows what, with people I profoundly dislike or I spend Christmas alone. Some choice! Thanks.”
“I take from that you won’t be coming then” she swiftly retorted. “I’m sorry if this has upset you, Alan, but it sounded fun. I knew it wouldn’t be your scene but I thought it might snap me out of things a bit.” The carrot of her returning from her Christmas break in an improved mood was cynically dangled like a poisoned chalice being offered to a man dying of thirst.
Alan gave up arguing, defeated again though now he felt a rising anger within him. He visualised the embarrassing conversations he would have with his parents and friends when he would tell them through a false smile that Cindy was holidaying with past work colleagues at Christmas. They would of course nod their heads and say how wonderful, but in reality he knew they would think that something a little odd was going on with the Crosslands. It would be humiliating.
“You know, just lately you treat like me shit. I work bloody hard at the bank, and there are all sorts of pressures at the moment that I never bother you with, but which I have to deal with during the week. All I ask is that at weekends and holidays we can spend some quality time together.”
“I’m truly sorry, Alan” said Cindy, deliberately lowering and softening her voice. She meant it, but she knew she couldn’t help herself. She had fallen out of love, and since she had met Gordon she rather resented Alan’s presence. It was as if he was an impediment now to her future. Gordon excited her, made her feel alive, and although they had spent only two brief lunches together she wanted to know and experience everything about him. If that hurt Alan so be it. She had a life and only she was going to live it. She waited a few moments before speaking again in a firmer, more authoritative tone.
“I’m going away at Christmas, Alan. Get over it.” Her mind was focussed on Gordon now, and whilst she had desperately wanted to phone or text him since he had been away she had refrained from doing so as per their agreement. Now, however, she felt an uncontrollable urge to be near him. She went to her room, picked up her mobile and sent Gordon a text message.
miss you. Looking forward to xmas.
x
It made her feel better, closer to him and she felt sure he would reply even though he would be back in the country in the next few days. She was surprised and delighted when five minutes later she received the small bleep on her phone telling her a message had arrived. It was from Gordon and said simply,
me 2. Back next Monday.
G xx
She lay down on her bed and gradually went to sleep, with thoughts of Gordon and Mealag once more on her mind.
17
Assistant Commissioner Manders was not satisfied that his team’s investigation into tracing possible contacts of the London bombers was proceeding as he had hoped. Sure, the ATU had some spectacular early successes, but the shooting by police of the innocent Jean Charles De Menezes in the wake of the bombings had taken up valuable time and had been at the very least a distraction into his own specialised area of tracing suspects via business and bank records, accounts and the like. It was one of his team that had visited the banks in July and they had frankly got very little of worth. He reviewed the outstanding areas still under investigation, and for the umpteenth time read over the information on each of them again. Every time he reviewed the progress reports and files, he puzzled over just one – the Hannet-Mar International Bank and the account of Chalthoum Universal Holdings with its links to the Corniche Consortium opened by Halima Chalthoum.
Apart from the two deposits there had been no activity on the accounts. That in itself was not particularly unusual, but it hardly smacked of some dynamic consortium ready to fill their boots during the current Dubai boom times. Also, the amounts were pretty small yet the bank�
��s chief executive seemed convinced the account was worth his personal attention as he was clearly expecting it to expand. Then there was the very close proximity to the 7th July, possibly indicating that friends or relatives of the bombers might be about to receive some compensation for their loss, but even that theory hardly stood up to what the ATU already knew. The bombers’ families were as shocked and surprised as anyone could be that their loved ones had committed such horrendous acts of violence against innocent commuters.
None of it made any sense to Manders, which was precisely why he was becoming more interested by it. In his twenty two years of experience in the Metropolitan Police Force, his nose had become ever more sensitive to the smell of criminality and there was a slightly pungent whiff emanating around the Hannet-Mar account. Whilst he was not convinced the account was genuine, he had scant reason to believe it was linked to terrorism. More likely would be a dodgy business deal, possibly involving the bank manager himself, but obtaining a rational explanation for his unease would not be easy. All he had to do was find it. That was his job – looking into seemingly innocuous crevices, examining for cracks in apparently pristine paperwork, shedding light on the concealed. Checking, rechecking, data mining, cross-referencing. It was boring, hard grind and very unglamorous. But he loved it, because whilst other units stole the headlines and appeared in front of TV cameras, Manders knew that often these public success stories were down to the men and women of his team. Unseen and unsung, they had proved vital in the detection of those wishing to harm the country he served.
