It Always Rains in November

by Richard Hoffman

  With that he was off to face the sack.

  * * *

  Marie O’Brien was also phoned by Crouts that morning. Before she had an opportunity to consider the news she was given, Gemma woke up, asking to play with her Mummy and enquiring where Daddy had gone. A few hours and numerous games of “Crocodiles” and “Hungry Hippos” later, there was a knock at her door. It was Louis.

  “What… why are you here?” Marie stood in the doorway, looking at him in surprise.

  “Why wouldn’t I be here, Marie…after yesterday? You left abruptly and I wanted to see you again.”

  “Louis, it’s not a good time, I’m sorry.”

  Louis smiled uncertainly. “Can’t I come in? You haven’t been stringing me along, have you? Is your husband still here?”

  “No, of course not, he’s moved out. But my six year old daughter is here and I don’t want …”

  “Look, I’ve driven a long way, got lost twice. Went to the Travelodge before I remembered you’d said you were moving back here. Bloody sat navs, not all they’re cracked up to be.”

  Gemma appeared at the door.

  “Mummy, can I watch Disney TV?”

  “Yes, go on then, love.”

  “Hello, you must be Gemma. I’m Louis, I work with your Mummy.”

  “Hello. Are you Max from Eastenders?”

  “What?”

  Marie laughed.“She thinks you’re Max from Eastenders. He’s bald, you’re bald. Get it?”

  “I’m sorry, Gemma, I’m more of a Hollyoaks man myself. The girls are fitter, er, I mean, shit, sorry, … oh, sorry again…didn’t mean to swear.”

  “Don’t worry. She wasn’t listening. Come on in. Gemma’s watching TV so we can go in the kitchen.”

  They walked up the hall, Louis admiring the surroundings.

  “Nice house, Marie. No wonder you wanted to move back here.”

  It was a nice house, one she was determined to hang on to. She and Gary had bought it together, and she hoped he might be willing to give it to her as part of the impending divorce settlement. Might not be as keen if he found out about Louis.

  In the kitchen, Louis sat at the kitchen table. Marie put the kettle on.

  “Massive house,” Louis observed. “Could do with some family. Can I have a tour of the mansion, or just the East Wing, if that’s easier?”

  “It’s just a house Louis. When me and Gary sort out the divorce settlement, Gemma, me and Carly might have to downsize.”

  “Carly as well, that’s…”

  “Long story, Louis, and I’m not going into it all now.” Marie poured boiling water into a cafetiere and sat down at the table. “Look, we need to talk. I have too much going on with my divorce, my girls, moving house. And we work together Louis, and you’re eleven years younger. Do I need to go on? You don’t need all this baggage, let’s call a halt now so we can still be friends and carrying on working together.”

  Louis smiled and moved to hold her hand but she withdrew.

  “I know what I need, Marie, and that’s you. I don’t care about all the other stuff. I’ll help you through it. We can work it out together.”

  “God, you’re so young.”

  He stopped smiling. “Don’t patronise me Marie, I…”

  Marie straightened her shoulders and looked straight at her toyboy.

  “OK, no patronising. I want to end this, now. I need to be 100% for my girls. That’s it. You’re a great guy, Louis, but there’s no room in my life for you. I want to quit before one of us is hurt.”

  * * *

  Nathan was up early – for him – on Saturday morning. He came downstairs and found his mum in the lounge drinking tea. Her eyes were red and bloodshot.

  She glared at him. “So, you’re up. Brave enough to face me now?”

  Nathan responded with a straight bat. “I’ll face you anytime, Mum…”

  “I came home yesterday evening and you never came out of your room. You know I was at her house, don’t you? You…”

  Nathan sat next to her. “Mum, I can see you’ve been crying. I’m sorry, really I am, but it’s not how it looked.”

  “That’s original, Nathan. The perennial words of the man caught at it. ‘It’s not how it looked’. Next you’ll be telling me that she led you on, that you were the victim. It’s all a lie, Nathan, a lie to yourself mostly. You wanted your evil way and nothing was going to stop you, not even the screams of a thirteen year old virgin. Well, you can be proud of yourself.”

  “Fuck this, Mum.” He stood up. “You can believe me or not. I never knew she was only thirteen and I never knew she didn’t want it. She did start screaming, but I thought it was… thought it was…”

  Janice laughed, a hollow, sarcastic laugh, that unnerved her son. He’d not seen her like this before. “You aren’t about to tell me you thought she was in ecstasy. I suppose that rings true. You don’t half love yourself, bloody fool.”

  She laughed again. At him. Normally he would have sworn at her, but, in truth, he didn’t feel good about what had happened.

  “If I’d known, believe me if you like, I would have stopped.”

  “You keep telling yourself…”

  She was proper jarring him now. He got the message. “Enough now, Mum. Be a bit honest here. You’re pissed off cos I bet her Dad has dumped you.”

  “It is over, but don’t flatter yourself.” And then, under her breath. “Turns out Carly attracts bad men.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Seems that Daddy Carl was not above giving Carly too much affection. Not…not the whole hog, but not suitable fatherly affection either.”

  Nathan gawped at his mother. “I don’t get it. She never said…”

  “What was she supposed to say? She attracts abusers. Her Dad didn’t rape her like you did, but he touched her up.”

  Nathan reeled at the accusation. He wasn’t a rapist. Nor would he touch his own daughter. And talking about this with his Mum. They never talked about sex.

  “I’m no rapist, Mum. Don’t call me…”

  Janice relented.“No, OK, maybe not. But what you did…”

  “It was wrong. I know that. I took advantage. But she told me she was fifteen and I went for it. I’ve learnt my lesson. Honest, Mum. Now, please, get off my back.”

  Nathan went back to his room. He couldn’t believe Carly’s dad was a paedo. Still, he would pay her another visit. She definitely liked him, and now she’d been bled, she might enjoy next time. Not as if her dad could complain too much, not unless he wanted her for himself…

  * * *

  When Crouts Furnishers board asked to see Carl Price on Saturday his fear was that Janice or Marie had told them he was some sort of sick individual. Though he was ashamed, there was also a sense of relief, his guilty secret revealed. For the best part of eighteen months Carl had not faced up to what he had been doing with his daughter, perhaps kidding himself that his crime, like the contact, was minimal. The confrontation on her birthday and Janice’s and Marie’s reaction finally made him confront his own failings. He vowed to make it up to Carly, although had no idea how.

  Because working so closely to Janice would be uncomfortable for both of them, he planned to resign. The board summons therefore only concerned him for fear of what he might be accused of.

  Carl had never visited the boardroom in all his years at Crouts. Six men sat round an old oak table. One was missing and Carl was relieved to see that Jeffrey Parker was absent. None of the directors was under fifty, maybe even sixty. Around the walls hung giant hand painted photos of previous directors. Behind Bruce Crout’s chair, a ceiling to floor picture of his grandfather, Alfred, peered down on the proceedings.

  The MDs tone was amicable, if sombre.

  “Carl, good morning, sorry to call you in on a Saturday.”

  If he was about to be fired for sexual misdemeanours, they were being very nice about it. Austere but not unfriendly. Maybe the old
bastards were all paedophiles. God, he hoped not, didn’t want to be dragged in to a perverts’ ring.

  “Some very bad news has come to our attention, Carl.”

  Carl swallowed hard, and noticed his hands were trembling. Janice or Marie – he wondered who had told this set of old bastards. He looked around for pervert police hidden under the mahogany table or behind the boardroom curtains, ready to grab him if he tried to escape. No, he would not run – it was time to take his punishment like a man and not be weak and spineless.

  “I know, I’m sorry, but I can explain...”

  “You can explain? Look, sit down, man, and listen. Martin Miller was dismissed because of his deficiencies at work. Nothing to do with you. We aren’t totally stupid, Carl. You’ve been here many years and we know what you can do. Martin wasn’t up to scratch, that’s all. It’s very sad and unfortunate that he took his own life, but my understanding is that he has – or should I say had – major problems at home. The upshot is, Carl, we would like you to act as Financial Controller on an interim basis, until a suitable replacement is found. There will be a suitable pay rise of course.”

  “He’s dead! Martin’s dead?” Carl stared around at the sea of expectant faces. He tried to speak again but, instead, feeling dizzy and unsteady, he fainted.

  * * *

  Marie and Louis sat opposite each other at her kitchen table. Louis looked sulky.

  “I might as well go then.”

  “I’ve made your coffee. Like you said, you’ve had a long drive. Why don’t you finish that before you go?”

  “No, don’t want it now.”

  He rose to leave.

  “Assuming you still want me as an employee, I take it we have a new audit to start, or are we going back to Crouts?”

  Marie rubbed her hands up and down her face.

  “Oh, Christ, I knew there was something else. Louis, you should know, Martin Miller was fired, and they called me to let me know that he committed suicide.”

  Louis sank back in his chair, shocked.

  “Bloody hell. That’s awful. When did it happen?”

  “Thursday, the day after our meeting. He was fired and went home and took an overdose. Apparently, his wife had left him and losing his job compounded everything.”

  Louis reared back in horror. “What the hell did you write about him to get him fired? And now he’s dead? Didn’t you think that was worth telling me straight away?”

  “Of course I care and I feel bad. But I’m sorry, Louis, I can’t feel responsible for his death. I wrote an honest report and I’ve enough stuff going on to feel guilty about without him. Anyway, since when are you so concerned? Have you forgotten how he spoke to people?”

  “He might have been a dickhead but that doesn’t mean he deserved to die Marie. People don’t normally die because of our audits.” He ran his fingers over his shiny pate. “I can’t believe this.”

  “Why? You hardly knew him, Louis. He didn’t die because of our audit. He died because his wife left him, he had a stupid affair, he was crap at his job and he got found out. Let’s be honest here, the man was a shit.”

  Louis surveyed his employer with distaste.

  “That’s too hard, Marie. I can’t get my head around this. Forget the coffee. I’ll see you around.”

  He rose to his feet, a little unsteady.

  Marie was moving on. “I’ll be making some calls Monday. Are you going to be around for work from Tuesday?”

  Louis countered angrily. “Work! It’s always about work with you, Marie.”

  He hadn’t spoken to her like that before. Marie felt justified in ditching him. “I have responsibilities, Louis. Two girls to look after.”

  “Work is always your priority. Before your kids, before you and me, before…”

  “You and me was just a moment, Louis,” Marie interjected. “There is no you and me, and there never will be. Get over it.”

  “Get over yourself, bitch.”

  Alerted by the raised voices, Gemma came running from the living room.

  “Stop shouting at my Mummy. You are Max.”

  Louis opened his mouth to speak, but instead he walked back up the hall, opened the front door and was gone. Marie locked the door behind him.

  “Come on, baby doll, I’ll watch cartoons with you and then we’ll have some tea. Sounds good?”

  Gemma reached up and wrapped her arms round her mum’s waist.

  “Sound great, Mummy. You’re the best Mummy in the world.”

  “I don’t think I am, poppet, but I’m going to try hard to be from now on.”

  * * *

  When Carl came round, the board of Crouts were stood over him muttering.

  “Didn’t think he’d faint.”

  “I assumed he already knew.”

  “I thought he despised Miller.”

  “Didn’t everyone who worked for him? Very sad little man.”

  “Shouldn’t speak ill of the dead – oh, look, he’s coming round – give him some water.”

  The room was spinning and Carl could feel his pulse racing. Focusing on the Crouts board of directors peering down at him, he felt a torrent of guilt and horror – someone else whose life he had ruined. The body count was stacking up, literally in Martin’s case. Poor Martin...but then, how hypocritical was this pity? ... He had spent years hating the obnoxious sod.

  After a few moments and several sips of water, Carl recovered his composure. How long had he been out for the count? Bruce Crout reassured him that it had been a few minutes at most. Once Carl was seated back on his chair, the sweat drying and his pulse returning to normal, the MD went on to explain that Martin had been very unhappy in his personal life and they believed it was this, rather than any work related issue, that had led to his suicide. But Carl knew the job had always been important to Martin – his career, even his vocation. He thought back to the final conversation he had with Martin in which he effectively demolished him as a boss and as a man, in front of Janice, Marie and Louis.

  Carl thanked the board, apologised for fainting, accepted the promotion, shook hands with each of them and left.

  As he walked to his car, Carl felt as if he must have made a pact with the Devil. ‘I’ve destroyed my daughter, killed my boss, put my girlfriend off men forever and now I am promoted.’ Carl resolved there and then that he was going to be a better person, do the right thing, and make up for all the hurt he had caused.

  Chapter 32

  Sunday November 14

  Carly was up early on Sunday morning. By lunchtime she was packed and ready to go to her Mum’s. Bethany and Jacquie had been staying, so this was her first chance to think about what happened on her birthday. She could make no sense of it all. She hated her parents but she loved them both as well.

  Like Carl, she had convinced herself that him holding her tight and having a hard on was not that bad. Her mum’s and Janice’s reaction forced her to acknowledge how wrong it was and for the first time she wondered what that made her. At least he had never abandoned her, but he had abused her. Or did he? Abuse sounded too strong, too sick, and her Dad was OK really. It wasn’t like Eastenders where a man made his stepdaughter do sex stuff and told her to keep it quiet. What her dad had done was, well...what was it, if not abuse? How can you love your Dad if he abuses you?

  Before she could find any answers the doorbell rang. Carly ran down the stairs and threw her arms round Marie.

  Gemma was in the back of the car listening to an audio book, so there was an opportunity to talk as they drove.

  “Mum, what my dad did? Was it really abuse? I mean he never...”

  Marie considered the question. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, eventually stumbling upon a response. “I...I don’t know, love, I guess...it depends...”

  Marie’s phone rang – it was a business call and Marie was on the hands free for some time. Meanwhile, Carly received a text and replied to it.

  When Mari
e finally finished on the phone, she apologised.

  “Sorry about that, I need to line myself up with some work next week and it’s not that easy.”

  “Weren’t you at Dad’s company?”

  “Yes, and there were problems, but it wasn’t your Dad’s doing. I will need to make some calls today though, I have to get fixed up with a new contract.”

  Carly beat the car seat with her fists in annoyance.

  “But it’s Sunday, Mum, and I thought we were going out for the day.”

  “I know, Carly, but I need to work. And I need to get the three of us a place to live. I’m assuming you want me to buy a house nearer your school, or are you OK to transfer?”

  “Move school? No Mum, I’ve, like, got all my friends there. I’m not going to a new school.”

  Marie nodded in confirmation. “That’s okay. You won’t have to. Gemma probably will though. I’m sorry I don’t have all the time in the world, but what with the divorce, work, and now you, I ...”

  Carly beat the car harder this time, ignoring her mum’s protestations about damaging the beamer.

  “Oh, I get it; I’m another burden, the divorce, the job and the daughter. All problems you’d rather do without. It’s always like this with you, Mum. You always manage to make me feel like you don’t give a shit. You’re more bothered about the stupid car. At least Dad cares about me.”

  Marie gasped at the perceived unfairness of the comparison. “Oh he cares OK, just not quite appropriately.”

  “Well aren’t I the lucky one then, having parents like you two?”

  Marie reacted by putting her foot down on the gas, and driving at 60 in the 40 mph speed limit.

  “Look, Carly, I ...”

  The phone rang again.

  “Yeah, keep going, mum. Speeding and talking on the phone. At least dad hasn’t tried to kill me yet.”

  Marie slowed down but continued the hands free conversation. This time, after the call, there was no more conversation between her and her daughter. The rest of the drive was made in silence.

  * * *