A Clean Pair of Hands (15 page)

An episode that enlightened Charlotte as to where she currently stood in Michel’s affections began late one summer afternoon after the staff had left, and Michel Bodin was alone in the office reading a business proposal that he was about to present to a client later the same evening. A young, smartly-dressed woman knocked on the glass street door, peered in and smiled as if she knew Michel. He got up and opened the door with growing enthusiasm. His elegant visitor explained that she was looking for a job as a personal assistant and had been referred to him by one of Michel’s clients. Michel invited her in and after some preliminary discussion they sat down on either side of his narrow, unencumbered desk, which was actually a trestle table, in a minimalist style that Michel currently favoured. The visitor’s chair was low and Michel noticed that as the woman folded her legs to one side, keeping her knees modestly together, her short skirt rose revealingly up her thighs. Michel explained that his PA had left a week ago on maternity leave and although he had hoped to avoid replacing her immediately, there could be a vacancy sometime. The woman confirmed that was what her contact had indicated. She reached into her brief case and brought out a file. “Would you like to see my CV then?” she asked.

Before handing over the documents, she tucked an additional sheet of paper between the appendices, allowing Michel to see only that it wasn’t printed with text like the others. It was more like an image.

“This will give you an idea of what I have to offer,” she said, handing over the file with a flourish and a demure smile.

Michel read the documents thoughtfully, sipping the cold coffee he had poured earlier. The CV contained pretty standard stuff and when he reached the appendices he found Certificates of Competence in typing, shorthand and general office administration. Then he came to the loose leaf. He was puzzled at first. It was a dark photocopy which, as he studied it, revealed an image of a woman’s genitals pressed against the glass of a photocopier.

He continued examining the documents, gathered his composure to counter an increase in breathing rate and then looked up, smiling as though he had discovered the winning ingredient. “You really want this job, don’t you?” The woman was also breathing deeply, tensioning the buttons on her red blouse.

He savoured the situation and leaned forward decisively. “OK, you can start next Monday as my PA.” Michel rose slowly to his feet intending to shake her hand, but she jumped up with a shriek, waving her hands and hugged him tightly.

“Shall we celebrate?”

Michel had been contemplating future pleasures, but considered this to be an invitation to immediate delectation. He went to the refrigerator and removed the stopper from a bottle of champagne that had already been opened, and filled two polystyrene coffee cups. Then he led the woman, whose name was Caroline, to the machine room, closed the door and turned the key.

“Shall we take a celebratory photocopy to go with the one you brought?” he suggested. She smiled in response, opened the cover of the large photocopier, by the wall, placed a chair against it, stepped up, wriggled her skirt around her waist, and hopped onto the machine facing Michel with her legs apart. Michel left her there for a moment, observing her while he removed his clothes, adding to her arousal. When he was ready, she pulled her panties to one side and leaned back. He carefully removed the chair and pulled her hips towards him as he pressed against her. Leaning forward, Michel reached the start button on the copier and was satisfied to see the green glow of the scanning light reflected on the upright cover and the wall behind Caroline as it passed under them.

The copier designers had not taken account of the forces that could be exerted on a machine’s casing during such exertions and, before the mating pair reached their climax, there was a brittle cracking, splitting sound followed by a crash, and the raised plastic cover, together with the whole back section of the machine, fell to the floor. Keeping his focus on the matter in hand, Michel picked up the unresisting Caroline and transferred her to a large planning table where they consummated their employment contract without further interruption.

Before they left, Michel stuck a note on the photocopier asking someone to call in the maintenance company to repair the damage. He had tried to move the machine and inadvertently crunched it against the wall. As they left the office, neither looked back at the output tray of the photocopier.

Charlotte was neither prepared to ignore nor be drawn into Michel’s orgies. Somewhere in the back of her mind she truly thought she could win him back, but Thérèse was less emotionally locked in, so she recognised that Charlotte’s desperate hopes were completely unrealistic now and she persuaded her to come to Ireland for a long weekend of relaxation and private conversation. Thérèse was convinced that listening was an act of love that Charlotte needed right now. Somewhat surprisingly, Charlotte accepted the invitation.

George found her easy to recognise at the airport, partly because from a distance her appearance and dress had not changed much over the years. Charlotte had always dressed young. But styles that were fashionable and provocative when worn in her thirties now looked anachronistic. As she approached George, the black tights, high heeled boots, and narrow ultra-mini skirt led one to expect a twenty-year-old, yet here was a woman in her fifties. When she came close to George, he noticed
that her previously smooth, slightly olive complexion was grey and deeply lined with a look of mortification. Her unchanged heavy eye make-up and trademark brown lipstick with reddish outline increased the perception of aging. Thérèse had previously gently teased her on her unchanging choice of clothes and makeup, to which she replied, that was how Michel liked her to be.

Once Charlotte was installed at the Miltons’ home and began to tell the story of her experience since the separation, the full devastation of her life became clearer. If anyone thought that the time elapsed since their parting would be a healer, they were mistaken. According to Charlotte, her family and friends all had something to say to keep her wounds open, to such an extent that at first she found it hard to believe what she was hearing. Charlotte’s sisters had admitted to her that they felt more comfortable now that she had joined the ranks of badly treated women. They had envied her the illusion of a faithful marriage that until recently she had enjoyed. They confided that they had each at various times succumbed to Michel’s advances. Charlotte was sickened at this confirmation of something Thérèse had warned her about years earlier.

“Do you find it normal that they sit on his lap and kiss him?”

“Thérèse! You have a suspicious mind. They are my sisters.”

“Well, I wouldn’t feel comfortable about it,” and – laughing – “you’d better not do that to George.”

When Thérèse asked if she had found anybody else she fancied, Charlotte told her friend that so far, there was nobody and she wasn’t looking. She had been shocked by the hypocrisy shown by several of her married male friends, including her lawyer, who had made her propositions
of various kinds. She felt under observation, stalked by all the men who knew her. Johnny Mendes was among the first to advance, as might be expected.

“Actually, Johnny once said something to me which explains a lot. He said, ‘You don’t have to like me to enjoy what I can do for you.’ The trouble is, Thérèse, I do have to like someone before I can enjoy physical sex with them, and I haven’t liked Michel for years. When the trust goes, everything else goes,” then on reflection Charlotte added, “you can’t help who you fall in love with. It’s not a matter of logic – it’s here in my insides. Thérèse, you know, the thing that hurt me most was that all my supposed friends seemed to know what was going on before I did, so I think they are all rotten. Everybody knows and nobody talks except to each other.” She added, “If I wanted sex that badly I would have to find someone completely unknown, otherwise they’d all be discussing it. The men and the women are all just as bad. I don’t think there is a single loving relationship among them. You are lucky Thérèse, but it’s rare. I really thought I had something special too. But now look what I’m left with.” She raised both hands to her face and forced herself not to cry, ending with a wry smile. “They say that friends show their love in times of trouble, so on that basis you’re my only friend, Thérèse.”

The two women discussed what Charlotte should do next, but there were still many unanswered questions. Charlotte was convinced that she had to do something, but what? She had to get above the situation, high enough to see it clearly and completely. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Thérèse everything that had happened since her separation from Michel, but Thérèse knew from phone conversations with Annick in New York that, at one point, her mother was phoning at any time of the day or night to pour out her feelings. She was asking whether it was worth
living and she had considered suicide. Annick and Thérèse took Charlotte’s outpourings seriously and understood that she was entering a danger zone. It wasn’t so much a case of what they could do to help besides keeping in close telephone contact with Charlotte, but what could Michel do and not do to help Charlotte move forward. What lay behind his façade? Did he really care about Charlotte? Thérèse considered how the three daughters could intervene usefully. So far, they had avoided communicating any judgements to their father personally, except that until now Annick had used her residency in the United States to stay away from Michel and Sonia. She wanted to stand by her mother and she responded to Charlotte’s need to communicate almost daily without ever losing patience with her.

By contrast, Estelle accepted the situation without bitterness. She was living in Australia with a partner, so she too was able to keep a distance from the daily evolution of events. She wanted to maintain relations with both parents and was prepared to duck the issues in order to achieve that. Lydia was wrapped up in her own life. She saw what she wanted to see, but essentially she wanted to be a wolf. She had become hard-nosed and selfish and seemed to blame her mother, not for the separation, but for not having the strength to cope with it.

In the end it was Thérèse who contacted Michel after many attempts and ignored messages. Since he wasn’t pretending anymore, Thérèse saw no reason to walk around the subject or mince her words. Thérèse first established her credentials to comment by emphasising that everybody in the family was affected and they were torn in their affections. They didn’t want to give up on him although he had done the dirty on his wife, and Charlotte, instead of looking elsewhere for comfort as he had hoped, had
decomposed and was contemplating suicide. She was unable to manage her life and was going to pieces, heading for a complete breakdown. Thérèse referred to their meeting in Evreux when Michel had assured the Miltons that he was looking after his wife, and then she finally invited his comments.

At this point, Michel stunned Thérèse by announcing that he would make one more attempt at reconciliation if Charlotte was willing. Thérèse was truly lost for words. It had crossed her mind that Michel might want to return to a normal life with Charlotte at some point, perhaps when his relationship with Sonia had burned out, but she couldn’t see how he could put the events of the last fifteen years in a plastic bag and dump them. To what extent did he truly expect to return to a life of suburban normality? A lot of what Michel had been doing involved enjoyment of risk, whilst being in control. He liked to be the man of the moment, involved in real-life drama. Clandestine adventures were good for his adrenaline. When Thérèse ended the conversation, she could say no more than to invite him to bring Charlotte to meet the Miltons when they were back together, believing that it would be a most unlikely eventuality.

A few weeks later, Charlotte phoned to say that Michel had taken her out to an expensive restaurant and offered a progressive reconciliation at a pace they could both cope with. They would continue to live separately for the time being and beyond their daily dealings at the office, they would find time to share trips and continue meeting the family together. She didn’t say what would happen to Sonia. She then asked Thérèse what she thought. Thérèse remained silent.

“I know what you are going to say, Thérèse, but I felt that it might be better than what I have now.”

“I pray for you that it will work out,” responded Thérèse, “it’s just that all common sense says that you are setting yourself up to be hurt again and I find that very frustrating and very sad. I know it is hard for you to look back at what you achieved with Michel over the years, and what you built together, and think of it as finished. You survived all the business pressures and brought up three lovely girls. Yes, you had a good partnership for that period of your life, but it’s over and it’s no good trying to turn the clock back. What exactly can Michel offer you now? You asked me what I think, and above all else I want you to be happy, but I think there is nothing to be gained by you chasing someone who will never be there for you and who has so little to offer you. He has changed for ever, gone away, and we must all accept that, but for you that is harder than for anybody else.” She could sense that Charlotte was close to tears, so Thérèse moved into support mode and tried to reconcile her with making the best of the situation. She was feeling the frustration of being at two ends of a telephone at a time like this. There were long silences. Charlotte’s pinched mouth prevented her from speaking.

“Remember how you have been feeling and how you feel about it now,” Thérèse whispered. Charlotte was nodding, but no audible sound emerged at the other end.

Then, after a pause, “Yes, I just want life to be better than it is now.” She sniffed and fell silent again.

“We have all suffered with you, so none of us wants to go through this all over again,” Thérèse added.

They agreed that the Bodins would come and visit the Miltons as soon as it could be arranged.

When they did, it was for a long weekend and although there were smiles all round, the Miltons struggled to keep an open mind based on what they saw.

“We must have faith,” said George quietly as the Bodins left, “that’s all there is.”

On the flight home, Charlotte had time to think while gazing out of the window of the rushing aircraft. She reflected on recent conversations she had with Thérèse and tried to explain her decision to stay with Michel. She couldn’t say it was because of the children. That excuse expired years ago. The unbearable oscillation between sentiments made her febrile and irritable. Above all she needed stability, and reconciliation with Michel was unlikely to provide the stable platform she needed. She had no idea why Michel had suggested it or where it might lead. She hadn’t dared to ask him too many questions yet, in case he backed away. So, at this point, Charlotte had no inkling of what was really happening or how it might evolve. She preferred not to take account of the obvious signs and attempt to extrapolate them into a picture of what would happen. She was with Michel again now and they would find their way together as they always had.

And so Charlotte maintained her dream.