So, we talk.
I ask about what happened when James 2 came back. Richard explains that it was difficult. The man was angry. Didn’t know what was going on. He really struggled to pick up and manage all the changes that had been made. He began to upset the customers and staff at Cohens. Then Richard discovered that he had started to do cocaine again. And from there it was a downward spiral. Drink, drugs, abusive behaviour. Legally, there was little he could do, so eventually they agreed to carry on paying his share of the business for a few years so long as James 2 came nowhere near the office, or their customers. Then the pandemic struck, most of the business dried up, and James 2 disappeared. Meanwhile, Richard hired a new associate to try and pick up the slack from James 2, and she soon proved herself. It wasn’t long after she was promoted to a full Partner.
“Is the business still viable?” I ask.
“It’s touch and go. We had to let most of the staff go. We can’t pay them. But the government is optimistic that things will recover slowly when the pandemic eases…I don’t know if you’ve been talking to Caroline about this…but there’s some good news on the horizon…”
“No. I haven’t. Not really…”
“So, I can’t say anything about that really.”
“How did the Olympics go?” I ask, worried about how my sudden departure dropped everyone in it, including my friend, Stu Roberts, who was helping run the whole London Olympics organisation for 2016.
“Surprisingly well. In part, thanks to you. I found your file of detailed notes in your office on your computer. Brilliant work. We just executed most of the things you were thinking about and followed the suggestions you’d described in great detail, and …well, it was amazing. Roberts wasn’t disappointed. He was really worried about you actually… we told him you were ill. I think he tried to get hold of you many times, but then gave up. You need to get in touch with him. But don’t worry, you didn’t let him down.”
I am immediately relieved. There have been many moments since leaving 2013 and jumping to 2021 when I have worried how much I may have let Stu down. When he’d given Cohen’s the business for the Olympics I’d promised him that I was reliable, and that he could trust me.
Then within a few months I had stepped through the portal and was gone.
Perhaps not the most reliable of business partners after all.
Nevertheless, the Olympics had seemingly been a great success, and I listen with great interest as Richard recounts tales of that success, and how it catapulted Cohen’s into the spotlight.
So much so, Richard had become a bit of a media personality, and because of his public profile had soon been approached by the Conservative party and asked to run for the Mayor at the next election.
He’d won.
Unfortunately, the pandemic had soon made it an almost impossible job. London had been devastated, and was now a ghost city. But so were almost all the other cities in the world. Richard’s attention now was keeping things going as best he could and preparing the city to survive in a post-pandemic world.
It didn’t take much to persuade him to give me my old job back and make me an active partner again. The truth was that he was pleased to have me back on board again so that with the extra help he could focus on his Mayoral duties
--------------------
After a good meal he takes me up to his office, and shows me the incredible view overlooking the Thames, with its incredible view of Tower Bridge.
It’s a great view, and I have to admit that it even has the edge over the view from my penthouse apartment in Whitehall!
Once back in his office, Richard connects to the CQH website, and walks me through the client list as it currently stands. He promises to have the IT department set me up with a new password and account. We also agree that he’ll set me up with access to the client files, and directs me which ones I should start studying and getting up to speed on.
Promising to set up a meeting with the new partner Rachel Holmes once he’s had a private chat with her to introduce me, he then calls the bank handling the CQH account and talks with the Director, who he knows very well.
On Richard’s authority and assurances, with a promise of a further email or call from the Home Secretary, the Bank Director agrees to give me access to my old CQH private bank account, with new passwords and account details. After Richard agrees to leave the office for a moment, he talks to me privately and reveals the contents of my account. It seems that for the past eight years there has been a regular flow of income, dividends and bonuses from CQH into my account, very little of which would seem to have been spent. Which has left me with a tidy sum, which I now own and have full access to.
In short, it seems I am a millionaire!
‘Oh how quick the fortunes of mere men can transform’, I think to myself. From Pauper to Prince, in less than six weeks. Not bad going at all!
Chapter Forty Eight
Day to day
.
Over the course of the next week, my world begins to stabilize. It begins to take shape. Some order creeps into the chaos, and the hours between waking and sleeping start to take on some structure.
My life is dominated by events which I categorise into two groups.
These are, ‘Thoughts’ and ‘Actions’.
My thoughts are mainly based around Kenneth, and a perpetual regurgitating of all the events that have happened to me since leaving W1, in the hope that I may see a pattern, or discover a ‘trigger’ that could be responsible for initiating the jump from one side of the portal to another.
I find none, but my subconscious keeps searching.
Knowing that I cannot have Sarah in this world, drives me to thoughts of her in W1, but realisation that I, or the Professor, have no view of when I may be able to travel home, if ever, just leads to further frustration.
I stop drinking so much. Do more exercise.
My mind clears.
I begin to make plans.
I am lonely. Single. Maybe never going back to W1. Never going home?
On a few occasions I meet up with Caroline. We have dinner. Talk. Then end up in bed. There is an attraction between us, yes, and the sex is good. But I don’t sense that we will ever fall in love, or the relationship will ever grow beyond the orgasms and instant escape which we provide to each other when meet up and rip each other’s clothes off.
I begin to trust her when she claims to me that she wants nothing more than casual intimacy and a companion. From time to time.
The phrase ‘fuck-buddy’ comes to mind, but neither of us utilize it in each other’s company. Perhaps to use the term would label what we do in a negative way. In actual fact, I come to enjoy her company a lot. And I also enjoy coming. With her.
Does that make me a bad person? Or a romantic?
Or just a sad, lonely, man?
As I start to become fitter, I increase the amount of exercise I do. It becomes a vicious circle. The more I exercise, the more I want to.
And the fitter I get,… I realise, the more randy I get.
In keeping with the classification of my activities being around thoughts and actions, the more randy I become, the more I think…about sex.
Which results in me spending more time with Caroline.
But… recognizing that sexual activity with Caroline increasingly looks like it will never lead to love, my mind starts to think of how I might find another solution to the potential problem of ending up old and alone in this world.
The answer to that question will also depend, no doubt, on how long the pandemic and lock-ins will last.
Meeting any new women, let alone any other human being, is almost impossible nowadays.
Slowly my mood changes. The highs I get from exercising are no longer enough.
As the days turn into weeks, I begin to feel incredibly lonely. Most of the time I find myself locked in my beautiful prison. I work hard on getting up to speed on the business and clients of CQH but as the days pass I get increasingl
y restless. I find myself going for longer and longer walks. I go out in the car, sometimes driving for hours around abandoned London. Once I even leave the Blue Beacon at home just to see how many times I can get approached by the police, so that I can talk to them, and enjoy someone else’s company, no matter how fleeting each encounter might be.
I talk a lot with the Professor on the View Portal. And I spend time with Caroline.
Each time I do, I am left with mixed emotions.
Loneliness when she leaves, and growing guilt for being with her.
When she is gone I think about the guilt, and fight the urge to dwell on thoughts of Sarah, at home or here, and Keira and Nicole.
I start to actively resist thinking of them. When I do, it just brings me down. Leaves me feeling even more depressed, lonely and frustrated than before. I realise that thinking about them is not healthy.
Eventually I come to the decision to try and block them from my mind, for my own sanity. I have to find a new life here. Without either Sarah. With just me.
I do allow myself to think of Kenneth, and I nurture the hope that one day I will be allowed to see him, although I know I have to wait patiently for Sarah to decide to allow it. If she ever does.
In my loneliness, I begin to think of Jane. I discover that according to the most recent tax return that was filed by James 2’s personal assistant in the agency, that he is still married to Jane. Which means, technically, that Jane is still my wife.
I find myself beginning to wonder what she is really like now? When I visited her in her house I was struck by how different she was. How much more self-confident she had become. And how she was even more attractive now than I remembered her being before.
As the lock-in continues, and my loneliness increases, I realise that it is probably a foregone conclusion that one day I am going to drive over there again, and spend some more time with her.
Realising the eventuality of it does nothing more than hasten its occurrence.
So, one day, I decide to bite the bullet. I call her. Ask her if I can come over and visit her.
And I reply, “yes”, when she invites me to dinner.
So, that evening, I spruce myself up, iron my favourite shirt and trousers, check myself out in the mirror… not tooooooo bad… and then drive over to Surbiton.
As I head down the A3 out of London, I wonder just what I am letting myself in for.
--------------------
When I arrive she is waiting at the window. She sees me and a moment later the electronic gates drift slowly open. As soon as they are wide enough to let me in Sarah drives me into the driveway.
I park Sarah, and climb out of the car. Jane is waiting in front of the door. She is smiling. And she is looking more attractive than I have ever seen her before. She’s wearing a black dress, and a sparkling necklace and earrings. Her voluptuous figure – not overweight by any means… just shapely and round and beautiful… in all the right places… draws my breath. I see her eyes sparkle as she notices my reaction. Exactly the reaction she probably hoped for.
As I walk towards the house, and to Jane, she steps forward, as if to greet me, perhaps with a hug or a kiss, but I quickly raise my hand and signal for her to stop.
Then, romantically, I produce two virus tests, and walk through the procedure again with Jane, just as I had done with Sarah when I had met her at my apartment.
By now I have been living long enough in this new world to realise that this makes a lot of sense. The tests protect both Jane and me: she doesn’t know where I have been, and I don’t know where she has. Although, to be fair, she probably hasn’t been anywhere. She’s been locked-in for months. A prisoner.
So, we take the tests, then hold up the results to show each other. I see her eyes check out my result. As do I to hers.
We’re both negative.
“Where are Elspeth and Allison?” I ask, expecting them to jump out at me when I enter the house, but am both disappointed and also relieved when they don’t.
“In their rooms.” She replies. “I’ve told them you’re coming this evening. For an important discussion, but that on no account should they come down. Turns out they don’t want to see you anyway.”
“Why?” I hear myself ask.
“Their father hurt them so much…”
“He hit them?” I interrupt her immediately.
“No… emotionally… But he hurt them so much, they don’t want to see you at all.”
“Have you told them who I am and where I come from?” I ask.
Jane laughs.
“Don’t be silly.” She replies. “I’m barely managing to understand and keep up with what’s meant to be happening. There’s no way a child’s going to understand any of this. They’re too young. And they don’t need to know.”
I nod. Maybe it’s good if it’s left that way.
“Anyway, come in. All the neighbours are probably watching us. They’ll be wondering what’s happening with a car driving into my driveway in the evening.”
She turns, and I follow her into the house, my eyes focussed on her bottom.
As we walk through the house to the summerhouse in the garden, where I see candles already lit on a table set with a starter and a drink, the absurdity of the situation dawns on me. Last time I was in this house I was trying to escape so that I could be with Sarah. And this time, I am consciously trying to be with Jane to escape Sarah.
Which is perhaps wrong.
Is it?
Am I becoming James 2 again?
Looking at Jane now, as she hands me a glass of wine from the table, and smiles at me, her eyes twinkling in the candlelight, I know exactly why I am here:
To take her to bed.
To make love to her.
To lose myself in her.
To deliberately put distance between myself and my memory of Sarah.
And in doing so, by sleeping with Jane, I will be taking the first steps in a new life in this world.
“James…?” I hear Jane’s voice say to me, bringing my attention back to the room. Back to her.
“I’m sorry…” I reply. “I was just …”
“Thinking of Sarah?”
Her comment stuns me. Perhaps she was probing for information. Maybe it was a dig… annoyed because yet again I may have been thinking of her whilst with her… but it doesn’t come across like that. Her voice has no edge to it. She sounds sincere. Enquiring. Now she understands who I am, perhaps she just wants to understand. Maybe she is sympathetic.
In any case, she is wrong. In the past when I was with Jane I was thinking of Sarah. But today, for the first time, I am with Jane and thinking mainly of her.
I look at her.
She is stunning.
More beautiful than ever.
I put the glass down and move close to her, cupping her face in my hands.
“No,” I reply. “I was thinking of you, Jane... and what I would like to do to you.”
I kiss her. I feel her lips part, and the tip of her tongue meets mine. She puts her glass down beside mine on the table, and her hands encompass my back, pulling me towards her. Her hips angle forwards, pressing against me, dangerously.
I thrust back.
She moans, then cocks her head backwards, and I kiss her throat. Small kisses, starting just underneath her chin, and meandering slowly down her neck.
“James…” she says, huskily. “Close the blinds… the children…”
I pull back, shaking my head, then reaching over to the blinds and pulling the cord to close them tight.
“What’s happened?” Jane asks. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know…” I answer, slightly truthfully. “I… you… you’ve changed. A lot… and…”
“…and you want me?”
“I’m not going to lie, Jane. Yes, I want you. I want to… fuck you… I want to fuck you right here, right now… I know it’s wrong…Actually, maybe…perhaps I should go…”
“So… a married man
isn’t allowed to fuck his wife anymore?” she asks, and from the tone of her voice and the way she raises her eyebrows, I can tell she’s teasing me. “Anyway, I thought that if you had a Blue Pass, you could have, or do, anything… you want?”
Dr Jekyll. Mr Hyde.
I’m no goody two-shoes. I’ve been rejected by the woman I love, and now I’m being turned on by the woman of my dreams… technically my wife…
A man can only take so much before he loses control.
I step back towards her, put my hands around her waist, and then spin her round, pushing her shoulders forward slightly so that she bends over the edge of the table.
With one hand on her head, my other hand slowly moves down her back, then down to the bottom of her dress.
Lifting her dress, I hook the edge of her panties, and edge them down over her bottom, until they fall down her thighs to the ground.
Now free, my hand makes its way round to the front of dress, and starts to caress her breasts.
Jane moans.
Gently I encourage her to stand up, and with her back still turned away from me, I unzip her dress at the back, and coax it down and over her shoulders. Unhooking her bra, I bend her forward again, and then enjoy the weight and softness of her breasts, as I cup and caress them with both hands.
She tries to turn around to kiss me, but I push her back around, perhaps a little too forcibly, but she doesn’t complain.
Quickly, I free myself from my trousers and my own pants, and guide myself until with a small thrust I am inside her.
She is wet. Ready for me. She pushes back against me, and I retaliate in kind.
Thrusting, pushing her forward hard, deep inside her.
Once. Twice… again, again…
A rhythm builds up. Slow at first. Then faster. Quicker. Rougher.
My hands are now on her hips, pulling her hard back against me, making sure that with each thrust I penetrate her as hard and deep as possible.
Jane’s hands grip the other edge of the table, her face squashed against the table top.
Am I Dead? Page 32