Under New Management (3 page)

Still it wasn’t all bad. She had a meal cooked every night, clothes washed and ironed and next to no rent to pay.

Her parents had also persuaded her to try and get back the money she had put into the house. As part of the divorce proceedings, she is now taking David to court. Even though she hadn’t had her name added to the mortgage, she had put in £25,000, made up of her entire savings and a loan taken out in her name, (which she is still repaying) to buy new windows, a kitchen and bathroom, etc.

She had also paid half of everything for the last five years, and to leave with nothing seemed a little harsh in light of the fact that David had done the dirty.

Six weeks later Mollie has stopped feeling quite so sorry for herself. She now feels very angry; angry at the deceit but mostly angry at the wasted years that she has invested in someone, who, it turns out, didn’t want to be with a woman at all.

About two weeks after the event, David and Mollie sat down and had a discussion of sorts. Mollie had cried a lot; she had begged him to explain things to her. She needed to understand.

David finally spilled the beans and informed his stunned wife that he had known he was gay since he was sixteen. He had gone out with, and married, her simply to keep up appearances. He had not been ready to come out and had spent years believing that people would not accept the real him. His parents were staunch church-goers, so being gay was unacceptable. It was not recognised as a way of life. It was, quite simply, wrong. David, an only child, had been brought up with this belief. From the first moment he admitted to himself that he had a crush on his PE teacher, Mr Montague, David believed he was wrong.

He fought his inclination for years, finally giving in to his desires with a Spanish bloke on holiday in Marbella at the age of twenty. He saw himself as sick and dirty long after the holiday had ended, but the overwhelming urge to repeat the experience and sleep with other men eventually won out and sent him underground. He reasoned that his family, his clients and his friends would have surely disowned him had they known. He believed that if he came out, his accountancy business would suffer irreparably.

When Mollie had arrived on the scene he decided to go with the flow. He had finally met a pretty girl he could introduce to people. She would help stop the whispers about him that he was sure were being bandied about. Marriage was the obvious solution.

He was not exactly apologetic about it. He told her that he’d loved her like a best friend, they got on well and in a weird way he had found her attractive sometimes, but it wasn’t enough. He told her that he would always be grateful to her, or some such shite.

Mollie had sat sobbing quietly as she listened to his excuses. He showed no guilt at the deception, saying it was just one of those things. David was solid in his defence. He even went so far as to say that he would have had children with her. He told her quite earnestly that had he not met his ‘soul mate’ he probably would have continued the pretence till death do us part. He admitted to having casual flings with other men during their marriage and appeared completely unperturbed. Mollie had been left aghast and quite simply speechless. She could only assume that he was truly delusional.

She had left the neutral ground of a random pub (chosen in order for them to be anonymous) and driven back to her parents’, where she had ranted and raved for the rest of the evening until she’d eventually exhausted herself.

David’s ludicrous defence, as it turned out, was one of the many reasons why her dad had punched him. No one got away with treating Jim Brown’s beautiful daughter like crap. 
No one!

To be fair to them, Mollie’s family and friends had been fantastic. They had closed ranks around her. The locals kept their gossiping behind closed doors: no one wanted to take on Jim Brown or his son Dan, as they had something of a reputation for scrapping. Regardless of Jim or Dan, the locals did like Mollie. They saved their ridicule for David and Kevin. People felt sorry for Mollie. How awful for her and such a lovely girl, so beautiful, kind and friendly. The locals were on Mollie’s side. This had made her life somewhat easier over the last few weeks. Gossip in this small village could ruin a person’s life and she was grateful for small mercies.

As yet she had avoided David’s parents. She knew that they would be horrified when David eventually plucked up the courage to take Kevin back home to Oxford, if he ever did. Mollie wished she could be a fly on the wall for that little family gathering. According to David, he had no intention of telling them in the near future.

When Mollie had let the cat out of the bag at home she had found herself physically dragging her dad away from the phone, so keen was Jim to fill them in on David’s behalf. Jim could not understand why the Pratt’s should remain blissfully ignorant, whilst Mollie was going through hell. Mollie consoled him with the fact that they would go mental when they found out, so why spoil it for David? This calmed down Jim somewhat, although he still itched to fill them in, all of them, in more ways than one.

Mollie was far from close to her in-laws. David’s family were hardly modeled on the Walton’s and hadn’t exactly taken Mollie to their bosom. It had been made abundantly clear that she was not quite good enough for their son. They were cold, snobby and often rude at best and unbelievably bigoted at worst. Given that fact, Mollie was in no hurry to see either of them ever again. She would pay good money, however, to see the look on their faces when they found out; not only that their son was getting a divorce, but was gay into the bargain.
Brilliant!

She would love to know how they liked Kevin as a substitute. She bet that suddenly she would be the model daughter-in-law. She couldn’t stomach their false sympathy; that’s if they even bothered to contact her at all. She only saw them once a year for approximately three hours on Christmas Day, anyway. His mother phoned David at the office if she needed to speak to him: she never phoned the house or Mollie’s mobile. There was no love lost and Mollie couldn’t care less whether they knew or not.

In general (much like his parents) David was a pompous prick who liked to keep up with the Joneses. He was very much an, ‘I’ve got a blacker cat’ type of person. However, pompous prick or not he had been her pompous prick and she had loved him to bits. She doesn’t believe that she loves him now. There has been a little too much water flowing under that particular bridge lately.

Mollie doesn’t want him back but she does miss the partnership; someone to share her life with; go to sleep and wake up with; the feeling of belonging to something. Her confidence in her intuition has been dented. She is hurt and feels betrayed. How could she live with someone for so long and not have the faintest inkling that he was gay?

She constantly goes over and over memories in her head. Mollie just wants to find some clue which would substantiate this outcome.

He always looked after himself: he moisturised, had manicures, took an interest in clothes, both his and hers, but that’s not that unusual these days,
is it?

He would happily spend hours shopping with her. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy it, in fact.
Was that a sign?

His music tastes were varied. He liked classical music, something she had never got into, but it wasn’t as if he was belting out Kylie tracks all the time. Neither did he have an affinity for pink lycra, well not that she knew of. David showed no clichéd traits that she could pinpoint.

How did one tell that their beloved was batting for the other side?
Mollie beats herself up constantly. Was it her? Was it their moderate sex life? Should she have made herself more available? Did she not pay him enough attention? All of these questions, and more, float randomly through Mollie’s head. She has spent a moderate amount of time feeling sorry for him. She understands that it must have been terribly stressful to live a lie but why did he have to force her into living one as well? Nonetheless, all of those thoughts and feelings aside, the result is the same. David has left her for another man and she would have to get over it.

After all, every cloud and all that. At least now she could get rid of her ridiculous surname.
I mean, seriously, nobody would actually choose the surname Pratt, would they?
She would officially go back to being plain old Mollie Brown just as soon as she could get her act together to find out how.

Chapter 3

Mollie is shattered after spending the best part of forty-five minutes in her office contacting the other members of staff and tenants by phone. It is now seven o’clock and she is going home. Taking her belongings she leaves by the back kitchen.

The October evening is chilly and dark. Mollie trudges round the back of the house in her Uggs, crunching the gravel underfoot. She drags her new raspberry red coat around her and buttons it up to keep out the cold. Mollie starts to set off across the gravel to her Peugeot 306. She passes through the wrought iron gateway set in the enormous, ancient brick wall which encircles the courtyard at the back of the Hall. She has parked as far away from the front of the house as possible. Staff were expected to park in the courtyard. However, there had been a tractor blocking the gate earlier when she returned from town leaving her no choice but to park out front. Lady Sedgwick would have a fit if she noticed!

The Hall is a beautiful building, with impressive stone steps that lead grandly up to the huge double fronted doors. It is enhanced by a large circular gravelled forecourt with a majestic fountain in the middle. A long tarmac drive flows seamlessly out of the soft, cream gravel which connects the Hall with the main road. It is a practical and more modern addition to the original landscape. The drive is nearly a quarter of a mile long and lined with trees.

Lawns and immaculate gardens slope gently away from the Hall and parkland, continuing towards the fast flowing river that surrounds it. In the evenings, the external lanterns and lights which illuminate the fountain, together with the lights shining through the elegant windows from inside, lend the place a fairytale air. The Hall was built in the 17th century and is imposing. It has twelve bedrooms, the majority of which are never used. The stone is grey and weathered, but the huge sash windows soften the architecture. Shrubs at the base and climbers, such as wisteria and clematis, cover the stone winding their way up the sturdy walls to fold around the windows. At the end of the Hall where the courtyard wall meets the building, a lone, solid Horse Chestnut tree stands sentry. It is only ten feet or so from the house and has often been inspected by tree surgeons for fear that its roots could cause subsidence. So far, however, the tree has survived. It is as high as the upstairs windows, and its gnarled, heavy branches cast eerie shadows over one side of the Hall.

Before Mollie walks too far from the gateway, she hears voices. Glancing up towards the front steps, she raises her eyebrows as she notices a gorgeous, gleaming silver car parked on the circular drive. ‘Looks like one of those James Bond cars; an Aston Martin, or whatever,’ she thinks absent-mindedly. Next to the silver car is a black limousine and she stops abruptly as she realises there is activity around it. In panic, and quickly looking around for cover, she darts towards the old chestnut with its solid trunk.
It will have to do.
Shuffling backwards towards it, she flattens her chest up against its trunk and peers round to get a better view.

Mollie sees a tall man in a dark suit open the back door of the long car. He leans forward and holds out his hand which is, in turn, taken by someone inside. The hand belongs to a dainty looking woman with bobbed, silver grey hair. She steps elegantly out and says something to the man. Even from this distance Mollie senses the class. Two men and a young woman also emerge from the car, the two men looking distinguished, perhaps in their fifties. Both are bald. In fact, they are very alike. The younger woman looks very pretty and it is difficult to age her, but Mollie guesses that she is in her late twenties.

The guy who had opened the car door, obviously the chauffeur, glances her way and Mollie quickly ducks back.
Shit, did he see her?
God only knows why but she panics and breaks into a run flying back through the courtyard to the kitchen. Once inside she comes to her senses.
Christ, what is she thinking skulking about like a criminal?
The thought of running into the new owners before she’s ready is not exactly appealing. Mollie orders herself to get a grip as she realises her behaviour is ridiculous. So what if they notice her? What's the worst that can happen? They might actually say hello and she might have to reply. After giving herself a few minutes, she makes the decision to behave herself. She pulls herself up to her full height and again leaves the kitchen heading for the courtyard. Surely they must have gone into the Hall by now, but just to be on the safe side she’ll  stay close to cover.

Sneaking back round to the front of the house she peers round the wall. All quiet, thank God. Her heart is hammering from the exertion. Mollie has another word with herself for being a plonker and heads for her car.

“Blimey that was a close call.” She mutters to herself as she crosses the drive, relief flooding through her. But then she looks up. "Oh fuck, what the hell does he want?" There, lounging against his Land Rover, which he has parked next to her Peugeot, is David.

Chapter 4

Kieran McLaren helps his mother out of the limo she has insisted on hiring for the occasion, completely unnecessarily in his opinion. Her sole intention is to show off to Lady Sedgwick. He shows his disapproval through sarcasm, acting like the chauffeur they did not employ. Marylyn McLaren narrows her eyes at her son, "No need for childishness, Kieran," she informs him haughtily. Kieran merely smirks at her. His cousin Jack has driven the limo; he couldn't wait to get his hands on the 'beast' as he had so eloquently named it. He is still sitting in the driver's seat, pushing new and exciting buttons.  Kieran shakes his head at him.