Time Once More for Marilyn: Captivated & Rekindled Romance (5 page)

CHAPTER SIX

              Marilyn had offered to cook me a breakfast which I declined. My travelling had opened my mind and now I would usually breakfast on rolls with butter and a preserve and coffee or tea. The traditional English breakfast of bacon and eggs, no longer appealed. She agreed. "Yuck! All that grease. I used to get sick in the hotel with the smell of bacon and eggs at breakfast time."  We sat down to fruit juice, granary rolls with butter and apricot jam. We ate with one hand only, my other hand was holding Marilyn's and she would not let go.  "When are you going to bring Sarah down? I ought to meet her before we get married." She stopped abruptly a fearful expression clouded her face. "We are going to get married, aren't we? That wasn't just a joke."

              To reassure her I knelt in front of her. "My lovable and adorable, Marilyn. I love you deeply and want you to be my wife. Please say yes." Tears came to her eyes and she brought her face down to mine and kissed me tenderly.

              "Yes, darling Dalzeil. I love you so much and nothing would make me as happy as being your wife. Yes. I will marry you." We finished our breakfast and Marilyn with mischief in her eyes took me back to bed to celebrate our engagement.

              As it happened, I was scheduled to have Sarah with me next weekend. Marilyn was eager to meet her. "Bring her down, please Dal. I have plenty of room." I was a little dubious, and would have preferred to book the Travel Inn. I wondered about the propriety of sleeping with Marilyn when my daughter was in the house.

              Marilyn shook with laughter, teasing me. "How old is she, Dal?" She was being facetious.

              I sighed. "As if you didn't know, she's eleven going on twelve."

              "Twelve year old girls these days are well aware of what adults do when they are engaged to be married. I doubt that Sarah will give it any thought at all."

              She was right; Sarah gave it no thought at all. She said something that I didn't think about at first. "Roger moved in with Mummy very soon after you left, Daddy."

              She and Marilyn got on like a house on fire. Their friendship was sealed when Marilyn took Sarah to the livery stables just down the lane. Sarah came back demanding from me that I equip her with everything she needed for horse riding, announcing that she wanted to come down with me every time I came to see Marilyn and she would be riding frequently. Marilyn explained how this was possible. "Bill Thaxton takes in the horses at livery. They need to exercise frequently and he does it when the owners can't. He is pushed to do that, so I go down from time to time and exercise a horse or two. Sarah took to riding like a duck to water, so Bill told her that she could ride out with him anytime she was down. He will be with her all the time so she won't come to any harm." I shrugged my shoulders, accepting the situation, happily when Marilyn whispered that that would give us plenty of time to get intimate with each other. "You can undress me and I will undress you and then you can do those deliciously dirty things to me that you do so well and I can bounce up and down again on top of you with your lovely cock in me." Who's going to argue with that?

              Marilyn had picked up on the comment that Sarah made about my ex and her man. In the way of women she had obliquely asked Sarah about that. One night she mentioned it to me. "Dal. You did understand what Sarah said about your wife's new man, didn't you?"

              I must have looked confused as I couldn't recall what she was talking about. "Remind me, I can't think of it at the moment." Well, we were in bed together and her hand was asking questions of my penis which was starting to answer positively.

              "About Roger moving in very shortly after you left."

              I had known that Jane had a man-friend for some time. It would be curious if she had remained celibate. "Oh yes. What about it?"

              "It was three weeks after you left."

              She had my attention now. "Bloody hell! That was quick." Then I thought about it more. "Too quick. Much too quick." My mental processes were in top gear as I pondered the ramifications. A light went on and the bell went 'ting'. "She must have known him before we split; the crafty bitch was cheating on me! And her mother must have known about it. No wonder they tried to stiff me." I began to laugh; it was so long ago now that anything other than laughing would be futile. "I am so pleased that my solicitor went overboard to get me visiting rights with Sarah. That really upset them." I turned to Marilyn. "And if all that had never happened, I would not be with you now. So however devious they were, I came out on top."

              She hugged me and her leg came over mine. "Only until I get on top. I have got all squishy down there, and you have gone all lovely and hard again. I have the perfect place for him."  She did.

              Our wedding was arranged very easily. I had thought that as I was divorced it could not be a Church Wedding. Not so. Marilyn had no doubts that we would be married in the local church. It would seem that she made frequent donations to the re-building fund. The Vicar, she was certain would agree to marry us for fear of losing those donations. I had thought from the start that Marilyn was quite well off, but as time went by I understood that she was in a much better position financially than I first believed. I discovered this by chance. For old time's sake and happy memories I had gone to look at the hotel one day when I was in Torquay. The building was still there, but was no longer a hotel. The place had been converted into apartments. I mentioned this to Marilyn. "Yes, I know." She thought for a moment then carried on. "I had that done about five years ago."

              I was brought up short. "You?" She nodded. "But you said your dad had sold the hotel."

              "He did. The new owners couldn't make a go of it; well few can these days. Everybody goes to the Mediterranean now. They went bankrupt, so I bought the place back from the insolvency practitioners for about twenty percent of what dad received."

              I was smiling. "Wheeler Dealer eh?"

              She shook her head. "No. It was stupid. I bought it back out of nostalgia; it was my home, where I grew up. Once I had it, I realised that I may have saddled myself with a White Elephant. It was then that the idea of converting the place into apartments came to me. People retire and when they do like to live in luxury in places like Torquay, Bournemouth and Eastbourne. They rent on an annual lease. They get a luxurious apartment with no worries about plumbing, electrics, the roof and the gardens. I get a regular income and of course all the time the value of the land is increasing."

              Somehow I knew this wasn't the end of it. So I encouraged her. "Go on."

              She smiled shyly. "It went so well. I had rented all the apartments except for one within six months, so I bought another old hotel and did the same. Hotels like that were going cheap those days. The costs of converting them to give the customers the facilities they experience in Spain and Majorca are prohibitive. If you put an ensuite bathroom into two bedrooms you lose a third bedroom for every two you convert. All some saw was the loss of a bedroom, not the increased tariff you could charge for having an ensuite. So they sold, cheaply. The thing about apartments is that you get income all year round, not just in the high season.

              I was impressed by her business sense. "You said you had occupants for all the apartments except one. Did you eventually rent that as well?"

              "No. I kept it. It's mine, well ours now. I loved the hotel, it had many happy memories, and you my darling were one of those happy memories. I go there from time to time to remember when life was so uncomplicated. Now we can go there."

              "I think I would like that."

              She agreed. "Yes we can have 'us' time there." She had a wicked glint in her eye, giving me a good idea about her interpretation of 'us' time. "My apartment is on the top floor and not overlooked, although it has a wonderful view from the balcony. I was thinking that we wouldn't need to get dressed when we are there, it could be quite interesting."

              "Hmm." I leered at her. "Alfresco loving. Extremely interesting." Marilyn smiled and nodded eagerly.

              The mention of the hotel sparked a conversation about that week. I tried to tell her how it had affected me, that I left feeling as if I had been shown the open door to paradise, had looked through, but had not been allowed to enter.  "When I left I suppose I knew we would never see each other again. Probably why I didn't write too much, I was prolonging a relationship that could never come to anything. So my sub-conscious told me not to chase the rainbow."

              "Thanks." Marilyn replied dryly. Then she laughed. "Lisa told me to forget you; she said I had an adventure for a week and to look forward to the next adventure. She got quite angry with me as I didn't join in the game with her again."

              "You didn't?"

              "No. I didn't understand at the time what was happening. All I knew was that you had affected me more than I intended. There were other young men who stayed at the hotel. I talked to them, but none of them interested me at all. I think Lisa took care of them all."

              "I can imagine."

              "Oh don't make her sound like a slut. She enjoyed life and men. I didn't really understand what she got out of it." She paused for a moment and gave me a loving smile. "I do now!"

              The wedding did take place in the Church. My marriage to Jane had been in a Register Office. Her mother, again, who decided that as Jane was pregnant, it would be wrong to marry in Church and in white. Learning that, Marilyn's vicar was easily persuaded to marry us. This was my first and last marriage in a Church. It was a quiet affair. Sarah was asked by Marilyn to be her Bridesmaid and I asked Robert, one of my colleagues at work to be my Best Man. My Bride looked a picture in Ivory and lace as did Sarah, who like all girls rose to the occasion with aplomb. Seeing the beautiful vision of Marilyn approaching me at the Altar Rail, had my heart thumping within my chest. I stuttered a little when I made my responses. Marilyn had no problems though. I had not expected Gerry, my M.D., to attend, but he did. He used his seniority to subvert the best man and made a speech instead of him. I had to say I blushed at his effusive comments. He chatted with Marilyn at the reception for some time. Later he collared me. "Dal, when you said you were getting married, you didn't tell me that this was the lady whose complaint you went to see."

              "Oh! Didn't I? I am sorry I didn't think to mention."

              "Crafty Bugger! You can't get results by marrying all the complainants." He grinned. "She's a smashing lady, and wealthy. You have done well. I suppose we are going to lose you now?"

              "Lose me? Why?"

              "You won't need to work, will you?"

              "I wasn't thinking of stopping work."

              "Oh? I got the feeling that your new wife had other ideas." 

The subject didn't come up until we got back from our Honeymoon in Tenerife. Marilyn mentioned casually one day that the agents she used to administer her properties were costing her a fortune. She then went on to wonder if there could be another way to get that work done. Gerry's words came back to me and I saw where this was leading.

              "I am not at all conversant with letting agency work, but from what I have heard it is a minefield, what with tenancy agreements and local planning law. It's almost as bad as being a solicitor. Perhaps you should look around for another agency, see if anyone would do it for a lower percentage."

              That gave her something to think about. "Oh! I was thinking that you might like to have a look at it."

              "Me? I wouldn't know the first thing about it, or where to start. No my darling, I would be terrified that I could cost you a lot of money and I would hate to have you upset with me. My expertise is in fabrics. The Cobbler should stick to his Last." I said firmly. The subject was never mentioned again.

CHAPTER SEVEN

              Jane, my ex wife had by coincidence re-married at almost the same time to Roger. Why after all the years she had been living with him she should decide to marry I couldn't fathom. However, it was none of my business.  It was some months later that I noticed Sarah had started to make acerbic comments about her step-father. Later, her language was almost vitriolic. Marilyn noticed this as well and tried to draw Sarah out. One Sunday evening Marilyn broached the subject. I had just got back after driving Sarah up to Bristol where we would meet Jane who had driven down to pick her up. Jane and I would not talk; it was little more than Sarah getting out of my car and getting in Jane's.

              "We may have a problem Dal." She called me Dal all the time now. "Sarah has told me that her step-father is behaving inappropriately towards her."

              "How inappropriately?" I wanted to know, fearing the worst.

              "He touches her too much, and comes into the bathroom 'accidentally' when she is having a bath."

              "And it is not accidental?"

              "Sarah thinks not. She locks the door, but the lock is not that secure. She has suggested that he has done something to the lock." My anger was almost uncontrollable. I was supposed to be driving back to work the next day, instead I was ready to jump in the car and drive to Jane's house now and sort the bastard out. Marilyn calmed me down.

              "Dal! If he is going to go further, he will not do anything whilst Jane is in the house. Call your solicitor first thing in the morning. He can apply for an emergency injunction banning him from the house until we can get a hearing in the Family Court." Despite my anger there was one crumb of comfort in this. Sarah had talked with Marilyn, confirming her trust for her step-mother, and Marilyn had used the word 'we'. This was not just my battle; Marilyn had stepped up to the line alongside of me.

              I phoned the solicitor that Monday morning. He had done well for me at the time of the divorce and I trusted him to get things moving. He did. He got a Family Court injunction that day, and it was enforced on Sarah's step-father that evening by the police. As you can imagine all hell let loose. Sarah was interviewed by a police woman, trained to spot the clues. Sarah was a little reticent as anyone would expect; children are fearful of accusing adults; but it would appear said enough for the police woman to decide there were sufficient grounds for an investigation. Jane's new husband had to leave the house immediately. Jane phoned me, calling me all the names under the Sun. Later her mother called me, a call I wish I had recorded as she slandered me in almost every sentence. The gist of her message was that I had been a useless husband in every respect who didn't know how to take care of a wife and I was jealous of Roger who made Jane very happy. She got so carried away that she inadvertently let slip that Roger had been taking care of Jane even before we split, something I had worked out after Sarah's comments. According to her I was so envious of them I was trying to break up a happy home so that I could get custody of Sarah. That it wouldn't work and that she was going to instruct her solicitor to sue me for defamation of character. I tried to point out that only Sarah's step-father could do that, and that the police believed there was sufficient evidence to investigate. I was talking to a brick wall. My ex-mother in law had tunnel vision and an ability to ignore facts that didn't fit her theory.

              The Family Court is very different to those you see on TV. The Judge and Counsel do not wear robes or wigs and the atmosphere is without the ceremony and traditional manner of speech. Even so the experience was uncomfortable for me as Jane, her husband and her mother cast looks of  venom towards me as the evidence was heard. Marilyn smiled sweetly at them exacerbating their hate. As is usual with minors, Sarah gave testimony in private to the Judge. Eventually it was decided that whilst there was no evidence of actual assault, the Court believed that his actions did constitute a threat. That put Sarah on the 'at risk' register. The representative from Social Services immediately spoke of her intention to apply for a Care Order if Jane continued to live with her husband with Sarah resident as well. My solicitor took that opportunity to apply to the Court on my behalf for Sarah's custody. Social Services talked to Marilyn and I about our circumstances, and they told the Court that we were suitable. Again the Judge spoke to my daughter in private. He granted an interim order for residency to be reviewed in six months. Sarah left the Court with us. A policeman accompanied us to Jane's house so that we could collect my daughter's things without harassment. At one point he had to warn my ex mother in law to keep a civil tongue in her head. Sarah sat in the back of the car chattering happily with Marilyn all the way back to Torquay.

              I could not have been happier in my life. I had a loving wife; a very loving wife judging by the number of times she would entice me to bed with no intention of allowing me to sleep. Sometimes she was so impatient that we didn't actually get to the bedroom. She also had a penchant for alfresco loving. It was a saving factor that her terrace was not overlooked. My daughter was now in my custody and equally as happy as I. When she wasn't in school she was down helping Bill Thaxton with the horses. She came home with a very contented smile and stinking of horse sweat and liniment. Bill had told Marilyn that her riding ability was coming along well, and suggested that she could enter for a local Gymkhana soon, but would need her own horse. I could see another demand on my wallet approaching. Jane and her husband were still together, and from what I could tell were getting along. He was still arguing the accusations, but had told Jane that if that lying, deceitful child ever came back into the house, he would leave. She didn't contest the Court Order when it came up for review. That suited me.

              A seemingly innocuous request from one of our customers turned me onto a different path in life. They asked if I would appear as an expert witness in a small claims Court action. They had supplied curtains to a customer who was refusing to pay the bill on the grounds that they were unfit for purpose. Gerry agreed that it was in order, especially as we hadn't supplied the fabric.

              The customer had their own expert witness, a guy who taught soft furnishing at the local college. This wasn't the stuff of television dramas. We sat around a table with a Stipendiary Magistrate as judge. He asked the other expert questions and the replies convinced me that this guy knew nothing about fabric technology. When the Magistrate turned to me and asked very similar questions I demolished the other's argument with facts. Our customer won. The Magistrate then asked the other expert witness if he had incurred any expenses and the silly bugger handed over a list. He had lost the case for his client and still wanted to pay for his completely ineffective time. The Magistrate raised his eyebrows, and then turned to me asking if I had incurred expenses. I shook my head and told him no. That day had far reaching consequences.

              Four months later a letter arrived. I was curious as I saw the return address, it was from a Solicitor. Now I had learned that correspondence from solicitors was not usually good news. As I read it, I became rather confused. They were asking me if I would appear at a Crown Court as an expert witness. It indicated a conference with the defending Barrister later that month. I talked to Gerry and he said that if I wanted to appear, the company will agree, but there would be a fee. I went to the conference appearing confident, but nonetheless with apprehension. I was surprised when the Barrister turned out to be James Wolstenhome, the magistrate from the small claims Court.

              He greeted me warmly. Understanding my confusion, he explained. "Most Magistrates are picked from the community. Barristers however, get asked to act and are paid as a stipendiary. The Lord Chancellor looks upon it as training for possible elevation to the High Court Bench." I nodded as if I really understood this and he took that as permission to go on. "Although I act as a Stipendiary it is only for two to three weeks at a time. I come back to Chambers and pick up on any Briefs my colleagues haven't snaffled. Mr. Gorton, I asked the solicitor to contact you. At that Small Claims hearing you came across to me as someone who does know the subject well and what is more can talk about it in language that everyone could understand. I was astounded when that other so-called expert lost the case for his client and then had the gall to ask for his expenses. You impressed me. My junior has done a lot of research and it would seem that there are few fabric technology experts left in this country. We don't understand why." I thought I knew why, but it was a long subject so I didn't respond to his query.

              We talked for quite some time and he gave me the relevant information of the case. I ventured an opinion, but told him I would need to see the fabric and examine it. I also told him what my company would want as a fee for my services. He didn't seem surprised at the amount. He made the arrangements for me to examine the fabric.

              The fabric was as perfect as it could be; bearing in mind the comments of the many skilled weavers I had listened to over the years, that there hadn't been a perfect yard of fabric woven ever. That was something I wouldn't mention in Court. I spent five hours going over every inch of it, and I couldn't find anything wrong. My evidence in the Civil Court was exactly that. The counsel for the plaintiff tried to trip me up. I countered by using technical terms in my replies to him that I doubted he understood. As in all trades there are plenty of technical terms and quite a few slang expressions which are used by weavers alone. As a witness, I wasn't allowed to stay in Court after giving my expert opinion, just in case I was recalled. I was very pleased when James Wolstenhome came out of Court with a big grin on his face. He removed his wig and shook my hand. "Your expert opinion did It, Mr. Gorton. The Judge was most impressed." He was about to walk away, but he stopped and turned back to me. "I am sorry that your employer will be the one to get your fees. You could make a good living with your knowledge. Especially as you are able to retain your wits when cross-examined by Counsel. Civil actions like these are going on all the time. If you do not mind I will suggest your name to any other Barrister needing your expertise."

              Gerry was very happy with the outcome. The company received over four thousand pounds for four days of my time. Well, in excess of my salary for those days. He took me out to lunch. "Dal, is there any chance of your being an expert witness again?"

              "They seem to think so. James Wolstenhome asked if he could recommend me to other Barristers."

              He thought about that. "With my company hat on I should say good, the fees will be a useful income, but as your friend, and I hope we can call ourselves friends, you could make a good living as an independent. Have you thought about that?"

              "Not really. Wolstenhome suggested it, but it would be something that I need to research first and also talk to Marilyn."

              "Dal, the technical side is running well. The lab boys know what they are doing. With the Board backing Clarke, he will continue to go and see the manufacturers, and no doubt we will continue to get rubbish yardage in our deliveries. You will never get any further, I'm afraid. Clarke will block you at every turn. So think about it. If you decide yes, let me know before you put anything in writing. I will see if I can engineer a redundancy for you. That would be one move upon which Clarke will be quite happy to back me I am sure."

              "What about complaints?" I reminded him of my primary responsibility.

              "No problem. We will have to find an independent expert. You may be able to suggest someone?" He grinned and I smiled too. Gerry had obviously thought this out; perhaps that's why he was M.D. I also suspected that he was playing a long game with the goal of getting Clarke out.