He sent her a romantic yet tasteful birthday card in which he announced that he had booked theatre tickets and intended to take her to Florence for a few days as her birthday treat. When she saw him later that evening, bouquet in hand, he explained;
“I know it is your birthday next week and I know you love art and history and architecture and stuff. It’ll be great fun and I’ll make sure it will be the most romantic holiday of your life. You will fall in love with me, I promise! If you do, we get married. Agreed?”
She agreed.
April 12th 2005.
Henrietta arranged for Oscar to go to his friend’s house after school for tea and a sleep over, which left her free to go to out for an evening at the theatre. Terry arrived on time and kissed her fleetingly then drove as fast as he could towards the M1 and headed south.
“Terry, where are we going?”
“London, real theatre land!” He drove without a break and had bought sandwiches and little juice cartons for the journey. Eventually he stopped outside the theatre for her to alight and go inside to the ladies, whilst he went to park the car.
Once re-united in the main lobby, he bought two hot dogs complete with all of the trimmings, handed one to Henrietta and led her into the hushed and semi darkened auditorium. He had paid for seats on the front row of ‘We will rock you’ and as soon as they sat down, the lights went out as if on cue and music immediately belted out of the speakers directly in front of them with such force that Henrietta almost choked on the large bite of her hot-dog and caused fried onions to slither down the back of her hand.
At the interval Terry took her to the bar for a pre-ordered glass of chilled white wine and upon a return to their seats he provided a pudding of a strawberry ice cream pot.
“I know how to treat a woman.” He joked. “Having fun?” He knew she was.
When the show was over Terry took her hand and walked her into the cold night air.
“What now? Do you like dancing?” She nodded.
They walked into the discreet doorway of a small nearby club named ‘Salvatori & Armandos’ where Terry paid to secure their admittance. They descended the staircase into the brick arched basement which was dimly lit and the atmosphere was heavy with the aroma of expensive scent and alcohol. They handed their coats over the counter to a young woman and were given raffle tickets in return. They bought drinks, then manoeuvred to a relatively quiet archway where they leaned against velvet bar stools and watched fellow night time revellers dance, kiss and get drunk on overpriced drinks. They too danced for a while then resumed their posture on the stools and continued to sip their drinks.
“Could you live here in London?” He asked.
“I did once, a long time ago, after university when I worked in Mayfair. I wouldn’t be the least bit interested now.”
“Me neither, there are no moral barriers.” He moved much closer and Henrietta expected him to kiss her but he turned instead to the woman behind him. “Do you mind, you can see I’m with my girlfriend!” The woman smiled with glazed eyes and was obviously very drunk.
“What’s wrong?” Henrietta asked.
“Let’s go.” They finished their drinks and Terry ushered Henrietta towards the cloakroom to exchange their pink tickets for coats. “That drunken woman had her hand down my trousers. I know it’s a cold night but that’s taking the Mickey.”
“No?”
“Yes. Outrageous! Great club though. I will remember it forever.”
The couple walked back to find Terry’s car, parked on a meter.
“How much is it to park here, these days?”
“Don’t ask.” He said as he deftly removed a ticket from his windscreen before she noticed.
As Terry drove home, Henrietta slept peacefully against the pillow of a rolled-up sweater until they were only five miles from her cottage. Once inside, she reignited the central heating, cleaned her teeth, placed her clothes on the chair beside her bed and slid under the duvet, shivering. Terry turned off the light then he also stripped off and dropped his clothes on the floor, then without asking, assumed his place beside her.
“Come here and pretend you’re an Eskimo.” He suggested as he shuffled closer.
“Rub noses?”
“Not quite what I had in mind for rubbing after a two hundred and fifty mile round trip…”
He made love to her. It was awkward and over very quickly and afterwards he apologised for his lack of performance which he blamed on anxiety and long awaited anticipation. He assured her that the experience would get better with practice and familiarity. Hetty wasn’t convinced and decided to confide in her friend Ruth whom she saw most regularly.
April 14th 2005.
Henrietta pushed her sunglasses into a hairband as she walked up the pathway towards her friend’s Victorian porch. As she entered the large ivory painted kitchen she called out a ‘hello’ and was instantly greeted by the waggly tailed chocolate Labrador who skidded towards her on the stone tiles and then by Ruth who appeared wearing jeans, a cream cashmere jumper and large blue Velcro rollers in her healthy auburn hair.
“You’re early. How’s the romance? Coffee?” She switched the kettle to boil and procured two Emma Bridgewater mugs from the china cupboard.
“Progressing nicely. He’s taking me to Florence and he’s asked me to marry him.”
“What, when, what have I missed, have you had sex with him yet? Tell all.” She turned to examine Henrietta’s face, hot beverages in hand.
“Hum, yes, the other night.”
“And?”
“Not good. I thought he was one of those hermaphrodites when I saw him undressed!”
Ruth spluttered her drink and grabbed for a piece of kitchen roll to dab her chin as her eyes widened expectantly.
“Go on.”
“It was all rather awkward. We just got into bed, then he jumped on top of me and then it was all over.”
“That doesn’t sound good, I agree, but I do feel sorry for him, poor man. You are very intimidating Hetty. Maybe you frightened him to death and he fell afoul of his nerves.”
“I’m not intimidating. What do you mean?” Henrietta said indignantly.
“You’re joking, you frighten everyone to death! I remember when I first met you all those years ago and wanted to work with you, I was a nervous wreck. You had all the Interiors qualifications on the planet, the most fabulous designer suit, long legs and a monster sized diamond ring that I couldn’t take my eyes off. I hated you!”
“Don’t be silly. You’re my best friend.” Henrietta was horrified.
“That maybe, but it took me a long time to get to know you.”
“Wow, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s Ok. I love you now, even if you are still such an infuriating bloody perfectionist. I sometimes wonder if you’ve got that condition called OCD.” She took another gulp from her mug. “Anyway, back to Terry and his willy, or lack of one, what are you going to do?”
“I think I had better take on board what you said about me being intimidating and give him the benefit of the doubt. I suppose it must work because he’s got three children.” The girls faced each other over the granite island and fell silent momentarily.
“Do you fancy him, Hetty?”
“No. But I need a husband, as no home is complete without one!” Henrietta attempted to lighten the mood. They both laughed nervously but Ruth understood the deep loneliness and isolation that Hetty had endured in the decade since her divorce at the age of thirty, which they both conceded was too young for her to become a virtual spinster.
“The future’s bright, the future’s orange! Think of the dinner parties and the holidays and the nights cuddled up on the sofa. Don’t let this one get away!” Ruth joked about the proposed change in social circumstance and imminent marriage to a man whose income was derived from mobile phones but she genuinely hoped that Hetty had finally found someone to love her with whom she could enjoy a new found social life.
The twosome c
oncluded that at the grand old age of forty two, Henrietta should work less, be less starchy and have some fun. Ruth slid a plate of shortbread biscuits towards her guest. Dudley the Labrador sat gazing intently in the direction of the plate and drooled.
April 23rd 2005.
“Hiya, handsome, fancy seeing you in Tescos.” Sandy pinched Terry’s bottom and made him jolt to attention before asking how he was, where he was living and who he was seeing. She smiled warmly with glossy fuchsia lips over a broad set of clean teeth. Terry couldn’t help but respond warmly to Sandy, she had that effect on men generally. She had always flattered him since he first made her acquaintance three years earlier. He also felt unable to deny the un-natural blonde his new mobile phone number, when she took a biro from her handbag and copied it on the back of her hand. He could also not avoid the full view of her ample cleavage in such a low cut floral top.
“Looking good, Sandy. How’s life treating you?” Whereupon the woman gave him an ‘update’ on her new life without her mean and miserable ex-husband, as she stood beside Terry with a wire basket on her arm, whilst he placed his groceries on the conveyer belt.
Once he had packed his shopping for the weekend with his children and paid his bill, she gave him a kiss on his cheek, promised to call him, then ventured back into the aisles to finish her own shopping. Terry pushed his multi-bagged load towards his car and grinned as he reminisced about his first meeting with Sandy.
He had been fortunate to find a pretty little terraced cottage to rent inexpensively in a suburb near to his wife and children, as he wanted to be as close as he could in physical proximity to them but was still in shock and denial and struggling to cope with the tidal wave of emotions which threatened to swamp him every day. Then one evening Sandy knocked on his door with a bottle of red wine and two glasses in one hand and a ‘welcome new neighbour’ card in the other. She told him that she rented the place next door and it transpired that she too had fled her marital home. They had spent the evening getting drunk, complaining and laughing and finally ‘shagging’ each other senseless. It was a cathartic ritual they repeated on several occasions until Terry re-thought his finances with help from his friend and financial advisor and moved to the brand new apartment in which he still lived. He blushed, even though he sat alone in his car in Tesco’s car park and remembered the happy and satisfying times spent with Sandy who was devoid of embarrassment or shame and determined to make up for the sexual prohibition imposed upon her by her ex-husband. She had complained that her marriage had barely been consummated in the decade she had lived in the modern three bed semi- detached house with her bank manager husband who refused to have full sex with her and hated children. She had bottled up an unquenchable thirst for sexual pleasure and gratification and openly admitted that a monogamous and boring relationship was never going to be an ideal for her.
Terry had an idea and moved his car to the ‘parent and child’ space nearest the supermarket’s automatic exit doors and waited for Sandy to appear.
“Sandy. Over here!” He waved out of the window and Sandy waved back with her bag free hand and tip-toed towards the car on vertiginous black patent heels.
“Nice car Terry, brand new too. Things have obviously turned a corner for you.”
“Jump in, I’d like a word.” She was keen to oblige.
“What can I do for my favourite fella? She grinned seductively.
“Phew, Sandy, much as I’m tempted, I’ve got a new girlfriend now and she is very special.” He squeezed her knee with his hand which she grasped and raised to her breast and stroked it very slowly with the back of Terry’s hand, closed her eyes and exhaled.
“Argh, don’t, you vixen! I’m serious.” He yanked his hand away. “However, I do have a very good friend who’d give his right arm to meet you. His life is sad and boring and I would like to cheer him up. Of course he isn’t as good looking as me; he is short, fat, got grey hair, no halitosis though. I do know he would be extreeeemely pleased to meet you.” He stressed her potential impact on his sad friend’s life.
“Why not, I’d be happy to meet any friend of yours. Set it up. I’ll call you.” She jumped out of Terry’s shiny car and walked towards her faded green hatchback as Terry drove away.
April 26th 2005.
Henrietta’s mother was delighted at the prospect of looking after Oscar and his various pets whilst Hetty had a few days in Italy with her new boyfriend and assured her that they would be ‘absolutely fine’ in her absence. Terry was good to his word and endeavoured to make their time away together the most romantic and exciting holiday of her life, even though the hotel was modest and most of the things they did were somewhat corny and obvious. By day they ate ice creams by fountains, sipped coffees in bustling squares, peeped inside incense scented chapels, walked hand in hand along the myriad of cobbled streets and Terry force a plethora of gifts upon her. By night they ate supper in atmospheric outdoor restaurants, serenaded by violinists before collapsing into bed at the end of the day to kiss and canoodle.
They were both fascinated by the specialist artisan paper shops which sold fancy stationary in an inexhaustible palate of colours. One little shop also sold a variety of coloured wax and a choice of elaborate seals which could be customised. Terry excitedly placed an order for their initials to be entwined on one such seal, which he explained would be for a flamboyant touch to be added to the envelopes of their future wedding invitations. On the last day they collected the seal and carefully packed their purchased mementoes and gifts for the children in their respective cases, which weighed significantly more than they had on the outbound journey. There was no doubt that an additional fee would have to be paid at the airport check-in.
Terry told Henrietta that he wanted to spend every last euro in his possession on their final evening in Italy as it was crucial that the night must be one she would never forget. Terry consulted with the concierge for his local knowledge and a recommendation of the most romantic restaurant in the city and asked him to arrange a taxi for 7.30pm that evening. Terry encouraged Henrietta to wear the new long black chiffon evening dress which he bought for her the previous day and beamed with pride as he escorted her past the transfixed stare of the concierge and out of the little hotel and into the waiting cab. Ten minutes and thirty euros later the taxi drove up a long flower-fringed driveway and parked temporarily on the gravel in front of an old Tuscan monastery designed umpteen decades earlier by Michael Angelo. Lanterns filled with candles glinted in every vista amongst the lush potted vegetation and 15th century antiquities.
“Oh, it is magnificent Terry, I love it.” She gushed.
“I was assured you would, my darling.” Terry held her hand as she alighted from the car and steadied her as she tip-toed in silver heels across the worn-smooth marble floor of the loggia, beneath the grand stone pillars and towards the reception.
They were greeted by a gracious man in full dinner apparel who was aware of Terry’s booking and offered the couple a glass of champagne and a comfortable seat in the antique filled lounge, which was originally a chapel and still retained its marble altar.
“Terry, you did Latin at school, what does ‘RESPICEINFACTIM CHRISTITIVI’ mean?
“Respect Christianity.” He responded without hesitation.
“Do you believe in God?”
“Yes, but as a Jew, I don’t believe in Christ the son. I do respect other faiths and beliefs though. Might this be a problem for us in our marriage?”
“I don’t know what I believe in, other than good and evil and the prudence of abiding by the Ten Commandments.”
“Excellent, so I can rest assured that you will never sleep with my neighbour or our neighbour’s goat, won’t steal from me and won’t kill me or turn against me when I’m of no use to you?” He leaned forward and pierced her eyes with his own, then threw his head back and laughed loudly towards the vaulted ceiling.
The immaculately dressed maître de re-appeared to usher the couple to their table on
the terrace overlooking the city as the sun began it’s decent beyond the silhouette of Tuscan spires and tree clustered hills. He drew back Henrietta’s chair and nodded respectfully as he eased her seat towards the exquisite table dressed with heavy white linen, shiny cutlery, sparkling stemware and a small vase of heavily scented roses from the Monastery garden.
“This is perfect.” She sighed with sensory satisfaction then asked: “Terry, what’s the matter?”
“Look who is over there.” He urged in no more than a whisper and pointed discretely.
“The older chap looks familiar.” Henrietta accepted the menu from the waiter and smiled.
“He is that mega famous singer; Tony Whatshisname. My mother idolised him.” He was interrupted by the waiter who handed a menu and wine list to him. “Oh no, look, there’s Michael...” Terry shuffled in his seat. “That stupid concierge has really stitched me up. I wanted tonight to be a night to remember for the right reasons but when I see two famous celebrity men in the same dining room as us, I realise that I am in deep financial trouble and out of my depth.” Terry rubbed his sweating hands on his starched linen napkin. “Let’s just say; the caviar and the pate are off, but the soup looks very good.”
The Unsuspecting Housewife Page 3