by June Hopkins
“Of course not. If you let me know a time I will ask him to pop up here.”
“Yes that would be wonderful. I am of course happy for you to give him the outline before I see him. I’ve had enough cloak and dagger shenanigans to last me a lifetime. I don’t expect you to start lying for me.”
“No problem, I’ll explain it to him tonight.”
“I would also be very grateful Mollie if you could talk to the staff and tenants with me tomorrow.” Lord Sedgwick pleads with her weakly.
“Yes of course. I did have the day off but I’ll come here for the ten thirty break, if that’s Ok?”
“That would be so helpful if you could make it, but can I suggest twelve thirty? I would like to wait until the guests have left, then I can talk you through any decisions made this evening before we speak to them. Would you be able to contact any of the staff who are not in tomorrow and ask if they would mind coming up here for, shall we say, twelve forty-five? And perhaps the tenants, if you don’t mind for, say, thirteen hundred hours? Are you sure you don’t mind coming in on your day off?” Lord Sedgwick shuffles uncomfortably again. At this rate he would wear the seat of his trousers away.
Mollie smiles weakly at him, “No, I don’t mind. After all, it looks as though I’m going to get a lot more time off than I thought after next week.”
“Ah yes, of course.” he says with a watery smile.
“I’ll check the rota and give them all a ring before I leave, and don’t worry, I’ll be discreet.” She assures him softly.
Mollie stands up to leave, “I will see you tomorrow then Lord John. I hope your meeting goes well this evening, and what time would you like to see my dad?”
“Thank you for taking this so well Mollie my dear; not that I expected anything less. Shall we say one thirty for your father?” Standing up as he speaks, Lord Sedgwick makes his way around the desk and walks to the door to open it for her. “Good night my dear.” He tells her wearily as she leaves the room.
Walking dejectedly down the corridor to her little office at the back of the house Mollie feels terribly sad for the lovely old gent, not to mention herself and the rest of the staff.
Chapter 2
Things haven’t been going too well for Mollie lately. Exactly six weeks ago to the day she had left work early to go to the dentist. When she arrived there, she found they had mixed up her appointment. She had trotted off home early, only to find David, her husband, in bed with Kevin the local community policeman. Now Mollie is no prude and has no problem with the sexual preferences of others, however, finding herself unintentionally witnessing that particular graphic and astonishing performance seemed wrong on so many levels. The unpleasant memory repeatedly assaults her in full technicolour clarity when she least expects it. Mollie had actually screamed: a bloodcurdling high pitched scream that she had no idea she was capable of producing.
On that fateful day she had let herself in through the front door and stopped to pick up the post from the mat. The weird noises emanating from upstairs had encouraged her to investigate. She actually believed she would find their cat, Arthur, pulling up the carpet behind their bedroom door: he must have been locked in again.
Irritated with David as he had left the house last that morning, Mollie stomped up the stairs. He was always shutting the bedroom door and locking Arthur in. Their bedroom carpet was ruined in the doorway. It would take her ages to free him from the room if the carpet had been dragged up too far. It would be stuck under the door and you couldn’t open or close the thing.
She had vaguely thought about taking a knife up with her to help push the carpet down. On balance it was probably a good idea that she hadn’t stopped to grab one .
At the top of the stairs she registered that those noises could not possibly be coming from the cat. It must be David working out. Did he really have to make those grunts and groans? Was it really necessary? He was obviously home early, his car was on the drive.
Without a second’s thought she reached the bedroom and opened the door, intent on having a word about the need for acoustics whilst exercising. David was hardly flipping Mo Farah after all.
As the door swung unhindered into the room, the relief that she wouldn’t have to fight with the carpet was swiftly replaced by a jolt of shock. As her brain caught up with her eyes she registered that David was indeed working out, on their marital bed. Working out so energetically in fact that there were actually rivulets of sweat glistening on his bare back.
The scene would have been comical if it hadn’t been so horrific. David, who was pumping strenuously away, slowly caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye. The look on his face had been farcical as he did a double take and gradually brought his head round to stare at her in astonishment. His energetic pumping had gradually receded to the point of stopping as he registered his audience. It had been like watching something in slow motion. Kevin had turned to see what was holding up proceedings and they had all openly gawped at each other.
Mollie had been the first to break the spell with her scream, which had seemed to coil from her belly like a twister, making its way upwards and gathering pace until it had burst forth in the manner of a spewing volcano. She vaguely remembered Arthur letting out his own ear splitting shriek as he shot from his favourite spot on the window sill and left the room at lightning speed.
Pandemonium broke out as the two men fell away from each other and tried to cover themselves. Not an easy feat as the quilt and pillows were strewn all over the floor and her favourite Egyptian cotton sheet was all mushed up tightly under them.
Mollie somehow managed to stem the scream, surprised as she was by its appearance, and just gaped at the two of them.
David, now partially covered with a pillow, had tried to speak. He had said her name and put his hand out towards her and that was enough to shock her into action. She had started to shake. She put out her own hand and simply said “Don’t,” in a strangled whisper.
Then she turned on her heel and stumbled out of the room, down the stairs and out of the house.
It had taken two days before she could bring herself to go back and pick up as much of her stuff as she could fit into her little car. The only reason she had managed that was however repugnant the visit would be, it was far preferable than having to spend another day dressing in her mother’s clothes. The visit incorporated a huge row mainly instigated by the fact that Kevin was in situ in her living room, sprawled out across her husband, on her sofa. He looked ultimately smug with himself surrounded by his own boxes. David had wasted no time in moving in his lover.
She had finally stormed out, with an Arnold Schwarzenegger promise of “I’ll be back,” and leaving them with the threat of all manner of nasty punishments if anything happened to the rest of her belongings in the meantime.
Mollie is now living back at her parents’ house at the ripe old age of thirty. Her horror at being dumped for another man is compounded by having to leave her lovely home and be back at the relentless mercy of her parents. Lovely as they are, it is slightly disconcerting to find that she is immediately back in the position of being treated like a fourteen-year old having to say where she is going, what time she is coming home, and facing an ongoing inquisition on how she is feeling.
Her dad actually punched David after a few too many pints in the local pub, not that he didn’t deserve it.
Still it wasn’t all bad. She had a meal cooked every night, clothes washed and ironed and next to no rent to pay.
Her parents had also persuaded her to try and get back the money she had put into the house. As part of the divorce proceedings, she is now taking David to court. Even though she hadn’t had her name added to the mortgage, she had put in £25,000, made up of her entire savings and a loan taken out in her name, (which she is still repaying) to buy new windows, a kitchen and bathroom, etc.
She had also paid half of everything for the last five years, and to leave with nothing seemed a little harsh in light of the fact that
David had done the dirty.
Six weeks later Mollie has stopped feeling quite so sorry for herself. She now feels very angry; angry at the deceit but mostly angry at the wasted years that she has invested in someone, who, it turns out, didn’t want to be with a woman at all.
About two weeks after the event, David and Mollie sat down and had a discussion of sorts. Mollie had cried a lot; she had begged him to explain things to her. She needed to understand.
David finally spilled the beans and informed his stunned wife that he had known he was gay since he was sixteen. He had gone out with, and married, her simply to keep up appearances. He had not been ready to come out and had spent years believing that people would not accept the real him. His parents were staunch church-goers, so being gay was unacceptable. It was not recognised as a way of life. It was, quite simply, wrong. David, an only child, had been brought up with this belief. From the first moment he admitted to himself that he had a crush on his PE teacher, Mr Montague, David believed he was wrong.
He fought his inclination for years, finally giving in to his desires with a Spanish bloke on holiday in Marbella at the age of twenty. He saw himself as sick and dirty long after the holiday had ended, but the overwhelming urge to repeat the experience and sleep with other men eventually won out and sent him underground. He reasoned that his family, his clients and his friends would have surely disowned him had they known. He believed that if he came out, his accountancy business would suffer irreparably.
When Mollie had arrived on the scene he decided to go with the flow. He had finally met a pretty girl he could introduce to people. She would help stop the whispers about him that he was sure were being bandied about. Marriage was the obvious solution.
He was not exactly apologetic about it. He told her that he’d loved her like a best friend, they got on well and in a weird way he had found her attractive sometimes, but it wasn’t enough. He told her that he would always be grateful to her, or some such shite.
Mollie had sat sobbing quietly as she listened to his excuses. He showed no guilt at the deception, saying it was just one of those things. David was solid in his defence. He even went so far as to say that he would have had children with her. He told her quite earnestly that had he not met his ‘soul mate’ he probably would have continued the pretence till death do us part. He admitted to having casual flings with other men during their marriage and appeared completely unperturbed. Mollie had been left aghast and quite simply speechless. She could only assume that he was truly delusional.
She had left the neutral ground of a random pub (chosen in order for them to be anonymous) and driven back to her parents’, where she had ranted and raved for the rest of the evening until she’d eventually exhausted herself.
David’s ludicrous defence, as it turned out, was one of the many reasons why her dad had punched him. No one got away with treating Jim Brown’s beautiful daughter like crap. No one!
To be fair to them, Mollie’s family and friends had been fantastic. They had closed ranks around her. The locals kept their gossiping behind closed doors: no one wanted to take on Jim Brown or his son Dan, as they had something of a reputation for scrapping. Regardless of Jim or Dan, the locals did like Mollie. They saved their ridicule for David and Kevin. People felt sorry for Mollie. How awful for her and such a lovely girl, so beautiful, kind and friendly. The locals were on Mollie’s side. This had made her life somewhat easier over the last few weeks. Gossip in this small village could ruin a person’s life and she was grateful for small mercies.
As yet she had avoided David’s parents. She knew that they would be horrified when David eventually plucked up the courage to take Kevin back home to Oxford, if he ever did. Mollie wished she could be a fly on the wall for that little family gathering. According to David, he had no intention of telling them in the near future.
When Mollie had let the cat out of the bag at home she had found herself physically dragging her dad away from the phone, so keen was Jim to fill them in on David’s behalf. Jim could not understand why the Pratt’s should remain blissfully ignorant, whilst Mollie was going through hell. Mollie consoled him with the fact that they would go mental when they found out, so why spoil it for David? This calmed down Jim somewhat, although he still itched to fill them in, all of them, in more ways than one.
Mollie was far from close to her in-laws. David’s family were hardly modeled on the Walton’s and hadn’t exactly taken Mollie to their bosom. It had been made abundantly clear that she was not quite good enough for their son. They were cold, snobby and often rude at best and unbelievably bigoted at worst. Given that fact, Mollie was in no hurry to see either of them ever again. She would pay good money, however, to see the look on their faces when they found out; not only that their son was getting a divorce, but was gay into the bargain. Brilliant!
She would love to know how they liked Kevin as a substitute. She bet that suddenly she would be the model daughter-in-law. She couldn’t stomach their false sympathy; that’s if they even bothered to contact her at all. She only saw them once a year for approximately three hours on Christmas Day, anyway. His mother phoned David at the office if she needed to speak to him: she never phoned the house or Mollie’s mobile. There was no love lost and Mollie couldn’t care less whether they knew or not.
In general (much like his parents) David was a pompous prick who liked to keep up with the Joneses. He was very much an, ‘I’ve got a blacker cat’ type of person. However, pompous prick or not he had been her pompous prick and she had loved him to bits. She doesn’t believe that she loves him now. There has been a little too much water flowing under that particular bridge lately.
Mollie doesn’t want him back but she does miss the partnership; someone to share her life with; go to sleep and wake up with; the feeling of belonging to something. Her confidence in her intuition has been dented. She is hurt and feels betrayed. How could she live with someone for so long and not have the faintest inkling that he was gay?
She constantly goes over and over memories in her head. Mollie just wants to find some clue which would substantiate this outcome.
He always looked after himself: he moisturised, had manicures, took an interest in clothes, both his and hers, but that’s not that unusual these days, is it?
He would happily spend hours shopping with her. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy it, in fact. Was that a sign?
His music tastes were varied. He liked classical music, something she had never got into, but it wasn’t as if he was belting out Kylie tracks all the time. Neither did he have an affinity for pink lycra, well not that she knew of. David showed no clichéd traits that she could pinpoint.
How did one tell that their beloved was batting for the other side? Mollie beats herself up constantly. Was it her? Was it their moderate sex life? Should she have made herself more available? Did she not pay him enough attention? All of these questions, and more, float randomly through Mollie’s head. She has spent a moderate amount of time feeling sorry for him. She understands that it must have been terribly stressful to live a lie but why did he have to force her into living one as well? Nonetheless, all of those thoughts and feelings aside, the result is the same. David has left her for another man and she would have to get over it.
After all, every cloud and all that. At least now she could get rid of her ridiculous surname. I mean, seriously, nobody would actually choose the surname Pratt, would they? She would officially go back to being plain old Mollie Brown just as soon as she could get her act together to find out how.
Chapter 3
Mollie is shattered after spending the best part of forty-five minutes in her office contacting the other members of staff and tenants by phone. It is now seven o’clock and she is going home. Taking her belongings she leaves by the back kitchen.
The October evening is chilly and dark. Mollie trudges round the back of the house in her Uggs, crunching the gravel underfoot. She drags her new raspberry red coat around her and buttons it up to keep out th
e cold. Mollie starts to set off across the gravel to her Peugeot 306. She passes through the wrought iron gateway set in the enormous, ancient brick wall which encircles the courtyard at the back of the Hall. She has parked as far away from the front of the house as possible. Staff were expected to park in the courtyard. However, there had been a tractor blocking the gate earlier when she returned from town leaving her no choice but to park out front. Lady Sedgwick would have a fit if she noticed!
The Hall is a beautiful building, with impressive stone steps that lead grandly up to the huge double fronted doors. It is enhanced by a large circular gravelled forecourt with a majestic fountain in the middle. A long tarmac drive flows seamlessly out of the soft, cream gravel which connects the Hall with the main road. It is a practical and more modern addition to the original landscape. The drive is nearly a quarter of a mile long and lined with trees.
Lawns and immaculate gardens slope gently away from the Hall and parkland, continuing towards the fast flowing river that surrounds it. In the evenings, the external lanterns and lights which illuminate the fountain, together with the lights shining through the elegant windows from inside, lend the place a fairytale air. The Hall was built in the 17th century and is imposing. It has twelve bedrooms, the majority of which are never used. The stone is grey and weathered, but the huge sash windows soften the architecture. Shrubs at the base and climbers, such as wisteria and clematis, cover the stone winding their way up the sturdy walls to fold around the windows. At the end of the Hall where the courtyard wall meets the building, a lone, solid Horse Chestnut tree stands sentry. It is only ten feet or so from the house and has often been inspected by tree surgeons for fear that its roots could cause subsidence. So far, however, the tree has survived. It is as high as the upstairs windows, and its gnarled, heavy branches cast eerie shadows over one side of the Hall.
Before Mollie walks too far from the gateway, she hears voices. Glancing up towards the front steps, she raises her eyebrows as she notices a gorgeous, gleaming silver car parked on the circular drive. ‘Looks like one of those James Bond cars; an Aston Martin, or whatever,’ she thinks absent-mindedly. Next to the silver car is a black limousine and she stops abruptly as she realises there is activity around it. In panic, and quickly looking around for cover, she darts towards the old chestnut with its solid trunk. It will have to do. Shuffling backwards towards it, she flattens her chest up against its trunk and peers round to get a better view.