Forgive and Forget

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘You always had a kind heart, Connie,’ he said gratefully. ‘You don’t hold grudges. Some of the chaps I play golf with are scourged by their exes. You’ve never done that to me.’

  ‘What’s the point? It gets you nowhere and just leaves you bitter and twisted. I’d hate that. But I’m no saint, I’ve had my moments,’ she said acerbically, remembering her bile towards Aimee earlier that evening.

  ‘Trust me, Connie, I’ve seen the way some ex-wives behave, and you’re nowhere near their league. Some women think marriage is a ticket to the good life without ever lifting a finger to earn a penny.’

  ‘Well, I guess you were lucky with Aimee,’ she murmured.

  ‘Yeah, she works hard. It can go to the other extreme too.’ He pulled a face.

  ‘Oh!’ It was the first time he had ever offered the faintest criticism of his second wife. All wasn’t perfect in paradise then.

  ‘At least Debbie got it off her chest and had the guts to tell me how she felt.’ Barry changed the subject. ‘And she really did make an effort with Melissa. Perhaps some good will come out of it. It would be great if they became close. I wouldn’t feel that I had two “only” children, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘I know exactly what you mean, and it would be great if they became friends. Pity there’s such an age difference.’

  ‘When you and I are gone, they’ll be there for one another,’ he reflected.

  ‘Cheerful Charlie,’ she retorted. ‘I’m not planning on kicking the bucket for a while.’

  ‘You know what I mean,’ he said sheepishly.

  ‘What does Aimee make of it all?’ Connie arched an eyebrow.

  ‘She’s in Milan at the moment, on business, but I’m not going to say too much of what Debbie said to me. It’s our business, and I think it’s only fair to keep it like that,’ he said slowly.

  ‘You’re probably right. It will cause less hassle all round. You know Debbie – how private she is, and how touchy.’ Connie nodded, glad that the other woman wouldn’t be too involved in her daughter’s emotional upheaval. ‘I’d say she’d go mad if she knew we were even sitting here talking about her.’

  ‘I know. Maybe you shouldn’t even let on to her that we’ve had this discussion,’ Barry suggested.

  ‘I worry about her, Barry,’ Connie confessed, feeling an enormous relief at being able to share her concerns about her daughter. ‘What do you think of Bryan?’ she asked bluntly.

  ‘Er . . . um, he seems a nice enough chap,’ he hedged. ‘You’d know him a lot better than I would. Why?’ His eyes narrowed as he studied her intently.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said slowly. ‘I don’t think he makes enough of an effort. She’s the one who does all the running around. He seems to swan around having a great social life while she looks after the house, does the shopping, all that kind of thing. I don’t think he pulls his weight enough.’

  ‘Do you not like him?’ he asked in dismay.

  ‘Not really,’ she admitted.

  ‘Does Debbie know?’

  ‘She knows I have concerns, but any time I’ve ever even tried to broach the subject she cuts me off very sharply. She just doesn’t want to know.’ Connie shrugged.

  ‘I can’t really say anything or that would be the end of us, and we’ve barely started to talk.’ Barry chewed the inside of his lip.

  ‘I just don’t want to see her ending up miserable.’

  ‘She seems happy with him. He’s got a good job. The office design business is booming. He can be thoughtful – he selected a box set of cheeses she brought me as a present, so he has some pluses,’ remarked Barry, disturbed by what she’d said.

  Connie said nothing; she couldn’t say to him that she felt Debbie was repeating a pattern with her choice of husband. Bryan was similar to Barry in some ways, that streak of me, me, me, for example. Having heard what Debbie had said to her father about not feeling worthy to be loved, Connie feared that she’d take any kind of bad behaviour from Bryan and let him walk all over her. But if she said any of this to Debbie she’d be the worst in the world. It was a terrible dilemma to be in. Or maybe it was just her, perhaps because she didn’t like Bryan she was looking for faults.

  ‘At least there’s divorce in the country, she won’t have to stay with him for ever if it doesn’t work out,’ Barry said pragmatically.

  ‘If that’s the case I hope there’ll be no children involved,’ Connie said sarcastically.

  ‘And maybe it will all work out for the best. Who knows what the future holds?’ Barry took a slug of tea and leaned back into the sofa, which was decidedly comfy. Far more relaxing than the leather one at home.

  ‘We’ll see. I could be barking up the wrong tree, I hope so,’ Connie yawned, patting Hope, who had wandered into the room. The cat purred loudly and jumped into her lap.

  ‘That cat sure does love you,’ Barry grinned, reaching over to stroke her silky fur.

  ‘Just as well someone does,’ she said tartly.

  ‘Ah, don’t say that,’ he reproved.

  ‘Melissa is very taken with her.’ She switched topics smartly, annoyed with herself for sounding needy.

  ‘She’d love a pet but apartments aren’t really suitable. Maybe if we move house Aimee might relent.’ Barry tickled Hope under her ear and she purred ecstatically.

  ‘Are you moving?’ she asked in surprise.

  ‘I’d say we will eventually. Aimee wants to. I quite like Dun Laoghaire. Who knows?’

  ‘Oh . . . right.’

  ‘I guess I should be going,’ he said reluctantly. ‘This is a lovely cosy room, Connie. You did a great job with the place.’

  ‘I love it. It’s home.’ She smiled.

  ‘It’s a long time since we’ve had such a good chat about things. We should do it more often,’ he proposed.

  It was a relief being able to confide her fears about Debbie to him. Sharing the burden was strange after so long carrying it alone. And he was right: it had been a nice, relaxing interlude with no tensions between them; at least they’d long gone past that stage of their relationship. ‘That would be nice. Let’s hope there aren’t any more tumults like this. It was a relief to talk things over, Barry,’ she agreed.

  ‘Any time.’ He stood up and pulled her to her feet. ‘Sorry for keeping you up so late.’

  ‘It’s only quarter to eleven, it’s not that late. It’s just I’ve an early shift tomorrow. Thanks again for coming down. You didn’t need to,’ she told him.

  ‘I know that. I wanted to,’ he said, giving her a hug. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you, now or ever. I’m sorry, Connie,’ he murmured against her hair.

  Her arms tightened around him. ‘I know,’ she said, feeling the roughness of his cheek against hers. They held each other in the firelight, the soft golden lamplight bathing them in a warm glow. It was the closest they’d been since their break-up all those years ago. It was a peaceful moment.

  He drew away and looked down at her and then, before she could react, he’d bent his head and his mouth touched hers, lightly at first and then hungrily as she responded involuntarily.

  ‘Barry!’ she exclaimed, stunned. ‘Stop.’ She pushed him away.

  ‘I don’t want to stop,’ he said huskily, his eyes glittering as he drew her close and kissed her again. He slid his hand beneath her robe and cupped her breast, caressing her nipple with his thumb through the light material of her nightdress.

  ‘No, Barry, stop,’ she protested again, shocked when her nipples hardened and a frisson of desire scorched through her. It had been so long since she’d been touched by a man she’d almost felt all that side of her had shut down. ‘Barry, you’re married. What about Aimee?’

  ‘Just for old times’ sake,’ he muttered against her mouth, and then he was kissing her again, and this time she was kissing him back, hungrily, running her fingers through his hair, revelling in the sensations he was unleashing in her. At the back of her mind she knew she should stop, knew it would be disastrous
to allow him to continue, but she threw caution to the wind, fed up of always being the responsible one. She’d reminded him that he was married. That was his judgement call.

  Her body was coming alive, reminding her of what she’d missed during all these years of unwanted celibacy. Reminding her of her femininity, her womanliness, and her earthy, lusty side, which had been dormant for so long. When he took her hand and led her upstairs she was glad to follow him, wanting to pull him down to her in the big double bed and wrap herself around him with wild abandon. It was passionate and quick and they came, groaning and arching almost simultaneously. Connie lay beneath him with her eyes closed, and gave thanks that her body had behaved so wantonly and youthfully and she wasn’t a write-off quite yet.

  Her reactions shocked her. Where was her guilt? she wondered as Barry lay on top of her panting, whispering her name over and over. She felt no guilt; she felt exhilarated.

  ‘That was fantastic,’ her ex-husband exclaimed.

  ‘Let’s do it again,’ she urged with a wild light in her eyes, her hair tousled, her cheeks flushed, remembering how they had often made love twice in a row when they had been married, the second time always better than the first.

  ‘Ah, Connie, I would if I could,’ he groaned. ‘I’m a middle-aged man, remember,’ he said, withdrawing from her and lying back against the pillows.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, disappointed. ‘We shouldn’t have done it even the once, I suppose.’ She leaned on her elbow and looked down on him, thinking how puffy he had become, how slack his jaw had grown, how grey his chest hair had got in the intervening years since their marriage.

  ‘Old times’ sake,’ he said, giving a deep sigh, his eyes closing.

  ‘Don’t go asleep,’ she warned.

  ‘I won’t. I wish I could. I wish I could stay the night,’ he sighed as his breathing slowed.

  Connie lay wide-eyed. Would she want him to stay the night? Would she want to wake up with him in the morning? Would she like to be married to him again?

  No, no and no, she decided firmly. She cared about Barry but she didn’t love him any more. If he thought there was going to be a repeat of this in the future, he was sadly mistaken.

  She smiled. She felt strangely empowered. Alive again. He had done her a great service although he didn’t realize it. She might be the wrong side of forty, but she’d just reawakened to the fact that she was still a vital, sensual woman and it was time she did something about it instead of galloping into middle age, depressed, defeated and defunct.

  ‘Barry.’ She nudged him in the ribs as he began to snore. ‘Wake up.’

  ‘Do I have to?’ he groaned, drawing her to him. He kissed her and she kissed him back, wishing he would revive. She’d love another ride, long and slow, she thought wistfully, but he was as dead as a dodo.

  Typical, she thought, frustrated: Barry, true to form, had let her down again.

  ‘You don’t want to keep your babysitter up too late,’ she reminded him as she leaned out of the bed and picked up her dressing gown from where it had been flung on the floor.

  ‘Oh hell, yeah, I forgot about Helen,’ he grimaced as he ran his fingers through his hair and threw off the bedclothes.

  ‘Should I apologize?’ he asked self-consciously as he stepped into his boxers.

  ‘Don’t bother,’ she retorted. ‘I didn’t do a lot to stop it.’

  ‘It was good, wasn’t it? Fast and furious.’ He grinned boyishly.

  ‘That’s not the point really. We shouldn’t have done it and we won’t be doing it again,’ she warned.

  ‘Of course,’ he agreed. ‘Strictly a one-off.’ He pulled up his trousers and fastened his shirt.

  ‘Are you going to tell Aimee?’ she asked from the other side of the bed, tying the belt of her robe.

  ‘Are you mad!’ he exclaimed, turning to face her.

  ‘I was just wondering. Men get urges to confess to these things, and you were never great at keeping things to yourself. They always came out eventually.’

  ‘This little episode is strictly between us.’ He gave her a sheepish smile.

  ‘Fine,’ she said airily. ‘I just don’t want Aimee having a pop at me ever, if I’m not prepared for it.’

  ‘Don’t worry, that’s not going to happen,’ he assured her, knowing full well that if he confessed to Aimee that he’d slept with Connie he’d be out on his ear. ‘We never used a condom.’ He frowned as he bent down to put on his shoes and socks.

  ‘No, we didn’t,’ she said slowly. ‘And we talk about kids being irresponsible. But I don’t think there’s much likelihood of me getting preggers at my age.’

  ‘No, I suppose not.’ He straightened up. ‘This has been one hell of a day and a night!’

  ‘You can say that again,’ she agreed, with a little smile as he came over to her and leaned down to kiss her.

  ‘That was fantastic. Did you enjoy it as much as I did?’ He studied her intently.

  ‘Do you have to ask?’ she said dryly. He laughed. He’d forgotten how wild Connie had been in bed when things were good between them.

  ‘I suppose not. I just wouldn’t like to think it was all one-sided. And it was great talking to you as well,’ he asserted, anxious that she wouldn’t think he’d used her for sex. ‘I’ll call you.’

  ‘Don’t feel you have to. I won’t be waiting by the phone. I’m not twenty-two any more,’ she said crisply. ‘As you said, this was strictly a one-off, Barry. Go home now, and drive carefully.’ She felt almost maternal as she kissed his cheek and patted him on the back. All her desire had ebbed away and she knew with certainty that she would never have sex with her ex-husband again, enjoyable and all as it had been.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Barry lay on his side of the spacious bed he shared with Aimee and couldn’t figure out whether he was more shocked by his infidelity with Connie or his lack of guilt about it. Was it because Connie was his ex-wife and he still felt some indefinable bond between them? Or was it because he was pissed off with Aimee because she had made him feel less of a man with her smart comments and he’d wanted in some way to get his own back, and he’d done it by doing the thing that would probably hurt her most if she ever found out about it.

  Whatever his reasoning, it had been great sex and Connie had enjoyed it as much as he had. Probably more, he thought smugly. He had regular sex, which she didn’t, so no wonder she’d been up for it. She’d been like a firecracker. Barry smiled in the dark, remembering her passion.

  He hadn’t showered before he went to bed. He wanted to keep her scent on him, that faint citrus perfume, which, combined with her own scent, had brought him back all those years when they’d been young, unfettered and carefree.

  He’d wanted to stay and feel her arms around him, her body soft and curvy compared to Aimee’s more sculpted angularity. When was the last time he and Aimee had sat in front of a fire just talking without the ubiquitous BlackBerry making an appearance? He sighed. The very things that had attracted him to Aimee – her drive, independence and ambition – were now the very things that were irritating him. And those he’d found boring and stifling in his relationship with Connie were, ironically, the very things he now craved. It must be an age thing, or was he just a contrary bastard? he thought gloomily, knowing one thing was for sure, if Aimee ever found out that he’d slept with Connie she’d have his guts for garters. And then she’d walk for sure.

  What was even worse and made him wonder about the state his marriage was in was the knowledge that he’d welcome another interlude like the one he’d just enjoyed with his ex-wife, and he felt quite sure she’d feel the same.

  The musky tang of sex was still on her, and Connie’s body tingled as she rinsed their tea mugs and left them on the drainer before switching off the light in the kitchen. For the second time that night she climbed the stairs to go to bed, but this time in a far different frame of mind. Yes, she still had the worry and sadness she felt about Debbie to deal with, but now she felt
she wasn’t on her own with the problem. That in itself was a huge relief. Whatever happened between herself and Barry, she felt sure that from now on he would be a support to her emotionally in her concerns for their daughter, even though, after the wedding, she would no longer need anything from him financially.

  And then there was the après-sex frame of mind. Connie grinned as she picked her nightdress off the floor. ‘Well done, bod,’ she declared as she untied her robe and slid it off her. Who would have thought that it would have come back to life so confidently and pleasurably as it had? Certainly not her.

  ‘So you’re not past it, and you’re still sensual and sexy and not a dried-up old prune,’ she assured herself as she pulled her nightdress over her head and got into bed. It was very, very reassuring.

  The full moon shone down through the Velux window, casting its melon-yellow rays on to her pillows. Less than an hour ago she’d been romping lustily in the bed with her ex-husband. She blushed thinking how she had asked him to do it again. No doubt he thought she was gagging for it. But her own response had taken her by surprise and cheered her up enormously.

  Connie gazed up at the moon, now partially hidden by a sullen encroaching cloud. What did it say about her that she’d had sex with her ex-husband knowing full well that he was a married man with a child? True she’d initially pushed him away, shocked that he’d kissed her, but after that she’d joined in enthusiastically. In fairness to herself, she’d pointed out that he was the married one. So, technically, it was up to him to desist. She was single and free, she comforted herself.

  It was a pity it had been over so quickly, she thought regretfully, remembering how her body had flamed with an ache that she’d long thought dormant. Barry had come very quickly: did that mean that she’d really turned him on or that he wasn’t getting much at home? His comments tonight had suggested a discontent of sorts in his marriage that surprised her. She’d never heard him make even the smallest criticism of Aimee before but clearly, from his remarks, he wasn’t happy with how much time she spent working or with her desire to move house.