Yours Unfaithfully (20 page)

Tim stared at Melanie in disbelief, but there was nothing for it but to venture inside. Tim had to duck his head as he went through the open front door into the dim space beyond. It was like walking into someone’s home. At first they were embarrassed in case that’s what it turned out to be. In the gloom they were met by the reassuring sight of three tables set ready for a meal, each with a small candle burning and a slim pottery vase of fresh roses. A tiny lady with a wizened face dressed all in black tottered out from behind a coat stand and greeted them with a welcoming smile. “Avez vous en reservation?” she asked pointedly. She looked so old and so frail that Melanie wanted to apologise for having troubled her. Instead she replied in her best Franglais.

“Mais oui, Madam, le nom c’est Fisher.”

Still smiling, she beckoned them through an opening into a small alcove where a table was set for two. It was beautiful and intimate, perfect for two people in love who yearned to shut out the rest of world for the next two hours. The meal had already been ordered over the phone and in a while the wine arrived, along with a basket of freshly cut bread. Tim couldn’t resist sinking his teeth into a piece of it, dropping crumbs from the crust into his lap. He washed it down with the red wine, which he had to admit was good. Melanie nibbled on her bread and looked into his eyes. She had planned this meal with great care – after all, it was to be the backdrop for what she was about to say to Tim. There seemed no point in putting it off any longer. She had rehearsed this a dozen times today, now was the time to get it off her chest.

“Tim,” she started, “I’ve got something to tell you, something you’ll like, I think, something that will help us get back to how we used to be.” She knew this would get him on side, ready for the bit he wasn’t going to like. This had to be handled with great care if it was to succeed, and it had to, if they were to get their marriage back on course.

He looked anxious as he waited for her to continue.

“We’ve drifted apart, Tim, I think we both know that. You’ve said lots of times how you feel like we live in two different worlds, me... working in the bank, meeting professional people, going to work in nice clothes and coming home tired but still clean. You’ve done all right as a mechanic, but you come home smelling of oil, covered in grease, always having to wear those stinking blue overalls... I think it’s time you moved up the ladder, into something closer to the professions, something where you could go off in a smart suit every day, something that would mean you’d come home as clean at night as you leave in the morning, something that could make me proud of you again. I want you to meet the kind of people that I spend my time with, that way we could go places together some evenings. I’m not saying I want to stop you going down the pub or anything like that but we could spend more quality time together.

Tim looked like he’d been hypnotized, speechless. He picked up his drink as if by remote control. He hadn’t expected this, that was obvious, but what was he thinking?

He was in shock, unable to think of anything sensible to say. On the one hand he was happy that Mel wanted to get the marriage back on track, but this announcement was too much to take in. Was she serious? “You want me to stop being a mechanic?”

“Yes Tim, I know it used to be good years ago, but we’ve changed since then. You don’t need to do that kind of work any longer. It’s hard, it’s dirty and you’re not getting any younger. You deserve a chance to do something better, something you can enjoy.”

“I enjoy fixing trucks. I know you’re saying this to help me, Mel, but I’m not sure I could do anything else. I mean ... realistically... whose going to employ me to work in a suit and tie? What do I know about anything other than vehicles, unless I went for a job in vehicle management, but do you know Mel, most of those jobs pay a lot less than I earn as a mechanic. There’s a desperate shortage of skilled men, which is why I earn what I do. If you’re honest I bet I earn more than a lot of the people you work with, don’t I?”

“Tim, that’s probably true, but your work is physically draining and if you carry on like this you’ll be a wreck in ten years’ time. How many mechanics do you know who make it into retirement?”

“I know... most of them end up being pensioned off with bent backs or stiff fingers, but what can I do Mel? I don’t know anything else.”

“Well, that’s my good news, Tim. The day before we left I heard Martin Bateman, one of our Executive Account Managers telling Joe that one of his clients is looking for a personal assistant stroke security man. This guy is stinking rich and he wants a smart, intelligent man to drive him around and to be a bit useful in the event of any trouble. He owns a lot of property in London and elsewhere. He’s not involved in crime or any of that stuff, but obviously because he’s well heeled he could always be a target for some get-rich-quick thug. He’s looking to pay one hell of a salary, much more than you make now, Tim, and you would get your designer suits provided as part of the package. I told Martin that you were the perfect person for the job and he’s putting your name forward to this guy as soon as he flies back into London tomorrow. He’s asked us to help him find someone. We often do this kind of thing for our very rich clients because they need to find someone honest without going through the usual agency channels, where they might end up with the wrong kind of candidate. When I talked to Martin about you he agreed that you are perfect for the job. You’re big enough and strong enough to look after yourself and Simon Stonewood – that’s the millionaire you’d be taking care of. He’s a decent bloke to work for. You’re completely honest and with my position in the bank that counts for a lot. This is a fantastic chance for you Tim, in fact it’s probably the best job offer you’re ever going to get. I’ve said I’ll ring Martin tomorrow afternoon to see if he’s managed to talk to the guy, and if he has, find out what he wants you to do next. Martin thought he’d probably want to speak to you over the phone, straight away, because he’s a fast mover. He makes his decisions quickly and Martin said that with your pedigree, if he likes the sound of your voice he’ll probably offer you the job over the phone. Just think, Tim, by tomorrow you might not be a mechanic any more.”

This was going far too quickly for Tim.

“Mel, this is too much for me to take in ... you’re talking to your mates about me as if I’m a bloody poodle at Crufts... they think I’ve got a sodding pedigree. For God’s sake, am I supposed to bark or something? You take me out for a nice meal and then tell me that you are too bloody high class to stay married to me as a motor mechanic... that’s what all this is about isn’t it... your bloody friends look down their noses at me because I get my hands dirty? Mel, I realise now what this holiday was all about ... it wasn’t about us getting away together, having a good time together with the kids ... it was about you re-designing me to be what you want ... the way that suits your friends. You choose my clothes, you choose this meal, you tell me what I can do. I even have to drink wine now because you’re too bloody snooty to let me enjoy a pint of lager before my meal. And then you want me to baby-sit for some bloke I’ve never met. He’d probably want me to fly halfway around the World looking after him. No chance.”

“Tim, he wants you to drive his car, not fly it. It’s a Mercedes, not Chitty Chitty bloody Bang Bang. Grow up, will you? If you want to stay a grease monkey for the rest of your life that’s fine by me. Find yourself some chick with a motorbike and tattoos who will probably appreciate it. I don’t... OK? If you can’t cope with improving yourself then stay right where you are, but don’t expect me to stay with you. What’s wrong with wanting to improve yourself? You used to have ambition when I first met you, but now you can’t be bothered to spend any time with me, you do next to nothing for the kids and you think I should be satisfied. Well I’m not. I arranged this night out to try to show you how it could be, how we could plan things together, how I could help you. Yes my friends are different to yours... what’s wrong with that? You could look at this differently and see that I’ve taken a lot of effort to try and get you a job that most men would give anything for, but you, no... you’re too set in your ways. Well I want more from life than I’m getting from you, Tim; you need to decide whether being a mechanic and drinking with Ben and your mates down at the Globe is all you want, because if it is, Tim, I don’t want to be a part of it. Let me spell it out for you, Tim, if that’s what you want... then I want out.”

Melanie got up and headed off to find the ladies, leaving Tim to stew on her uncompromising ultimatum. She was demanding a decision, one that would change his life, whichever decision he made. He had come out tonight expecting it to be just like any other night out together, but then they didn’t often go out together – she was right about that, he didn’t do much to make the marriage work. She definitely had a right to expect more from him than he was giving her. No woman worth having would accept what he was offering her and be happy. His head was spinning. Before she comes back to the table, he thought, I need to make my mind up about what I’m going to do. He looked out from the alcove. It was difficult to see much in the half light, but it seemed there were only seats for ten people in the place.

This was probably as much as the two ladies could manage, for it was obvious they did everything; cooking, serving, the lot. From out of the gloom an old lady appeared, much heavier than the one who’d seen them to their table, clearly the other partner in the Auberge. She made her way slowly towards him. Her wrinkled face softened into a warm smile for his benefit... “ Ca Va, toute bien?”

He had never been any good at French but he knew by her face that she was enquiring if everything was OK. Had they raised their voices? Had everyone been staring into their alcove, watching to see what would happen? Tim tried to replay their conversation to judge how loud they’d been.

Melanie was standing behind the lady, who clearly hadn’t heard her return, waiting for her chance to regain her seat, but not wanting to push past. She coughed gently which was a signal for the old lady to turn and let her through.

The lady wants to know if everything is OK, Tim said.

“Mais Oui, Madam, ce’st tres bien”.

The old lady, still smiling, gave her an understanding nod, as if she had seen this kind of thing before. Maybe French couples came here all the time to sort out their marriage problems.

“Deux minute”. She turned and made her way slowly back across the restaurant towards the black hole in the wall, which led to the kitchen. Tim looked at Melanie; she had signs of tears, hastily wiped away while she was in the ladies. She was still clasping a tissue.

“You’re right, Mel; I haven’t been treating you properly. I couldn’t bear it if you left me. I do want to be different. If you ring Martin for me, I’ll talk to this guy on the phone. I will try to be the man you want me to be, Mel, but I may need your help.”

“I will help you, Tim. That’s what I’ve been trying to do... but maybe it’s too much to ask, maybe you’ve been doing what you do too long to change?”

“You mean maybe I’m beyond help, is that it? Mel, you used to believe in me, you used to think I could do anything, now you don’t even think I can drive a bloke around in a car... of course I can. You’re right; it would be a brilliant opportunity for me. Do the phone call, Mel, leave the rest to me, I won’t let you down.”

He pushed his hand across the table and took hold of hers. She smiled back at him and he believed he had just saved his marriage. The old lady returned with two plates, which she placed in front of them. She muttered something about the food and then, still smiling, wished them bon appetite before leaving them to enjoy their meal.

The combination of delicious food and good wine soothed the situation and when Melanie spoke again she was totally composed. “This place is straight out of a history book,” she said. “These two ladies must have been running this place when the Romans invaded. It’s quaint beyond belief. You should see the toilet, the china is decorated like those on the Antiques Roadshow and on the way there you can see straight into their kitchen. It’s just a normal kitchen; they’ve got big copper saucepans on an old gas range. Gordon Ramsey would have a fit if he went in there. Thank god they wouldn’t understand a word he said.”

Her attempt at a joke was a signal that she was trying hard. Tim knew her well enough to continue the conversation in the same vein.

“What about Keith Floyd, surely he must’ve found this place on his travels? He’d love all this old furniture and he’d certainly like this wine. You chose well Mel, even if you did have some help from Casanova at the camp.”

“Tim, are you sure you don’t mind the changes that I’m asking you to make? Are you saying yes because it’s better than the other option?”

“Yes, of course I am, but I can also see that staying like I am, isn’t an option ... I don’t blame you for wanting more from me. I want us to stay married and to be happy... that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

When the coffee finally brought the meal to an end, Melanie phoned the taxi driver to come for them. They thanked the two ladies, who insisted on hugging them both before letting them out into the square.

“What a fabulous place, what lovely people”, Mel said, how old do you think they were?”

“Not a day under eighty I reckon, but that food, how do they make it taste so good? They must have a garden with all kinds of herbs; maybe they even grow their own vegetables.”

“I expect they use Herb de Provence, after all, they would wouldn’t they? But you’re right – the taste was better than anything I can ever remember. I think that place could be our secret restaurant. Every few years we can come back again.”

“Only if they both live to be a hundred,” said Tim.

“Do you know which way we’re going? If we get lost in these alleys we might still be here when we’re a hundred? Where is the taxi waiting for us?”

“He spoke good English, he said to go to the big fountain in the main street and wait for him there. I remember seeing it when we came by earlier. What an amazing night out!”