The New Mrs D (16 page)

I flopped back into my chair, shielded from Chris’s pergola by the patio curtain, and my mind spun − thinking of David, the love of my life, my new husband. Shouldn’t I go to him? But then, life was so much different, better, easier here in Greece with my new friends and not all of them were going home this coming weekend. My life was to return to normal on Saturday when I went home to my two grown daughters, who both rushed around living fearless lives of their own the way I’d made sure I raised them. I didn’t want them to rely on anyone or have all the insecurities I’d grown up with. And they didn’t. What else did I have to rush back to? A super dull job. Real life back home in England was one relentless bloody drag.

And here was Chris; creative, affluent, not unattractive, and with not one but two homes. His life had two seasons – winter in England and summer in Greece. So he might be a bit of a cad who was having an affair with a married woman. Or was he? I didn’t actually have any evidence except a tiny, nagging hunch and a couple of coincidences. Anyway, what business
was it of mine? Why should I care? But I liked him; a lot. That’s why I cared.

My thoughts turned from Chris to the bronzed, fit body of Argos, who, at twenty whatever-it-was called me ‘beautiful Binnie.’ And, after giving him a lift home on the back of my moped the other evening, I knew my pelvic toner had magical properties that could give him an erection that lasted over an hour. I must get a new one of those.

It was Argos who would be giving me my parascending session on the beach. How many jobs the guy had, I didn’t know. Everyone out here seemed to have so much going on.

I’d done so much thinking since I got here, after having had almost no time to spend with myself in many, many years. This island honeymoon had changed me, I could feel it. Why should I feel bad about going to a strip club after the way David had humiliated me? Did I want to go and meet him? Could I let Chris talk me into taking him back? Why? When I was beginning to consider the possibility that I had found myself right here in Greece after being lost for a very long time.

Husband number one hadn’t deserved the real me. Maybe David didn’t deserve the real me either. Maybe I did. All that was needed was for me to make a start on taking my power – and my sexy − back. A delicious idea was forming in my head – an exuberant peach of a thought.

I sent two texts – one to Linda and one to David.

Chapter Twenty-Three

It’s 32 degrees here today! Doncha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?
- Joan of Arc, 1431.

‘N
ow, you just count to three, walk forward a few steps and then run.’

As Argos strapped me into the harness, feeling around my backside to fasten it, I prayed to the God whose living room I thought I might be about to fly into.

The shorts I’d chosen for the day pinched my tummy; made too tight by a week’s worth of scrummy feta cheese and olive oil. But hey, they’d had some healthy tomatoes for company.

‘Okay. Hold the reins . . .’ I repeated. ‘Count to three . . .’

Argos laughed. ‘Reins? It is not a horse like yesterday, Binnie!’

‘Wait. What? You saw me?’
With my tits out?

Argos waved to the boat, “It’s okay, go, go!’ he shouted, then turned back to me. He was grinning like the cat that got the view of my boobs. ‘Are you ready?’

‘You saw me riding the horse yesterday? On the beach?’

The boat’s engine roared.

‘Count to three, Binnie!’

I took two steps forward. ‘One, two . . .’

‘SHIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTT!!!’

There was no three. And no run. More of a sitting glide across the water as I was yanked forward. Finally, I was lifted high into the air. As I felt the wind in my hair, I found peace and solitude again. Not for the first time on this holiday, I felt like I was really living.

‘Georgio,’ Chris barked.

A short, stout man with a large, bushy moustache appeared, carrying a clipboard. I’d gone to Chris’s art gallery as arranged, to find him more than willing to escape for a welcome break.

‘Could you take over for a bit?’ Chris asked him. ‘I’m taking my friend to lunch.’

The man nodded.

‘Well, that’ll be lovely,’ I said. ‘But Linda is expecting me at her place soon, so we’ll have to make it a very short one.’

‘I’ve been hoping to get a proper chance to speak with you,’ Chris began, as we sipped wine and shared a huge, Greek salad and fresh bread.

We were sitting at an outside table in one of the tiny restaurants that lined the bustling, cobbled side streets. At this time of day there were always tour boats flooding the island for a brief time with additional custom it was no doubt grateful to receive.

I looked up from my plate and frowned. This was it. My lecture about taking David back. Only he didn’t know it was way too late.

‘Really?’ I said, bracing myself for his speech.

‘Yes, really,’ he said.

I sighed loudly. ‘Look, Chris, I know what you’re going to say,’ I started.

‘It’s about that thing you brought up the other day,’ he cut in.

‘Oh,’ I said, feigning understanding, then immediately realising how pointless that was. ‘What thing?’

‘You asked me why I stopped talking to you.’

‘Oh, that,’ I said. ‘But you said we were okay?’

‘We were. We are.’ He stopped and looked away for a moment, as if carefully contemplating his next sentence. ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘We weren’t alright. I was lying. There was something else.’

‘Was it something I said or did?’

‘No.’

‘David?’

‘No. Well . . . yes.’

‘It was something David did?’

‘Oh dear, wait,’ he sighed. ‘This is all very difficult for me to explain. David is my best friend.’ He pulled a napkin out of the holder on the table and mopped his brow. ‘But yes, in a nutshell, it was because of him that I stopped talking to you.’

‘What did he do?’ I asked. ‘Or was it something he said?’

‘Nothing. No, it’s not that,’ he began. ‘You and I always got on so well, always laughing together. I think I sometimes took you away from him.’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘I thought we were becoming friends. And then it all stopped. You took your friendship away and didn’t tell me why.’

‘I liked you a lot. I still like you a lot.’ He lifted his glass and took a huge mouthful of wine. ‘This isn’t an easy thing to tell you,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t be your friend because of David.’

All at once, the light in my head came on. I stood up, pushing my chair back angrily and the buzz of conversation that had been around us from other diners ceased. ‘He told you to stay away from me, didn’t he?’ I said.

‘What?’

‘He told you to back off from his woman, didn’t he,’ I stormed. ‘What a jerk!’

‘No, that’s not what happened . . .’

I was already making to leave, my meeting later with David now more urgent than ever.

‘Bernice,’ Chris pleaded, reaching for my arm. ‘Please sit down. You’re getting the wrong end of the stick . . .’

‘Don’t you try protecting him anymore,’ I said. ‘He’s not worth your loyalty!’ I reached into my purse and threw ten euros on the table. ‘Here’s my half for lunch.’

‘Wait,’ Chris said, standing up now too. ‘Bernice, it’s not that, honestly. Could you please just sit down?’

Tears welled in my eyes and glancing around, I could see everyone in the restaurant had stopped what they were doing to watch the show. I felt mortified.

‘I’m sorry,’ I told Chris solemnly. ‘I have to go.’

Chapter Twenty-Four

Parascending = awesome! But can someone tell my arse my legs are still attached to it?

P
osting a ‘haha’ status to Facebook felt harder than usual today, but I knew my girls would be expecting news of our parascending adventure. I clicked ‘send’ and flopped back into the chair in Linda’s apartment. The only person left to arrive was David. I hoped that around about now Linda was down at the fish restaurant leaving him some crumbs.

The plan was for her to apologise for my being unavoidably detained. She’d been told to tell him ‘something had come up,’ and then offer to have a drink with him to discuss ‘Binnie and her problems.’ At the end of their little chat, Linda would come over very sympathetic and reveal that she knew where I was staying. Then, the stinger. The suggestion that he came to see me to try and patch things up. What harm could it do? Linda was my friend. She only had my best interests at heart.

If only he’d hurry up! The tiny thong I was wearing, under a flowery, pink, baby doll nightie, was continually riding up my backside and however much I’d tried to stay upset that afternoon, the dance troupe had fussed around, plying me with margaritas. I gulped them back gratefully, waiting for the gradual numbing sensation they’d bring that would protect me from all my pain and anger as well as the embarrassment of frolicking around in front of virtual strangers in sexy lingerie. In no time at all, I was dancing around with Gelle to
The Birdie Song
, my head all a-fuzz.

They did not disappoint. As the guys writhed and jiggled in front of me in nothing but tiny gold thongs, Roman poured oil over his chest and arms before turning around to smooth some over his tight, tanned bottom. The margaritas had helped to tear down my inhibitions and all at once, I was no longer a spurned woman in emotional turmoil, I was simply loving the show. Roman had slapped my hand at least seventy-seven times as I pawed his thong while he danced to the sound of The Tweets.

‘We haven’t started yet, lady!’ he laughed saucily, smacking his own backside at me and making me scream with laughter.

All of my anger seemed to have melted. By the time Eydis came running in to tell us the buzzer was ringing, I’d almost forgotten David was coming.

‘He’s here! He’s here!’ she shouted. ‘Change the music, quickly!’

Dominik raced to the CD player to change the disc and I jumped into a seat trying to look unfazed and busy.

A peel of church bells boomed out of the stereo.

‘Sheeeettt!’ Roman shouted. ‘It is the wrong song!’

Dominik reached forward to quickly switch to another disc, but instead, fast forwarded the current one. Now canon fire boomed out. Everyone looked alarmed, not knowing what the hell was happening or what to do next and knowing that David, as planned., could appear anytime. Evidently they had never done an erotic dance rehearsal to Tchaikovsky’s
1812 Overture
and, until now, I had never seen one either.

As the door to the room burst open, Roman jumped over me on the sofa, putting one leg on the arm and his crotch near my face, and began thrusting in time to each boom of gunfire. The guys behind him all followed suit, arms on the man in front’s shoulder and thrusting in time to each ‘BOOM!’, all the while maintaining their serious, ‘aren’t you turned on by my body’ faces like true, sexy dance professionals. As David entered the room, Roman turned to wiggle his arse in my face and I all-too-enthusiastically twanged his thong, which promptly came off in my hand. I had forgotten an earlier warning about the stripper Velcro.

‘What the FUCK is going on here!’

David’s face was nearly purple. I’d never seen him so angry.

As Tchaikovsky’s canon-fire-filled concerto played on, Roman stopped dancing, stooped to cover his modesty with his cupped hands and trotted away with the rest of the group in hot pursuit. I turned back to look from David’s face to Eydis right behind him. I couldn’t make out who was more surprised.

‘What the hell are you wearing?’ David shouted.

Realising she needed to be out of the way too, Eydis stepped in, grabbed Roman’s thong out of my hand, clicked off the stereo and bolted.

My fuddled, giggly, drunken brain wanted me to say, ‘David, could you go out and come back in again in, say, twenty minutes?’

Instead, I went all out for the ‘best surprised look in sexy underwear’ Oscar.

‘David!’ I exclaimed. ‘How on earth did you find me?’

‘Binnie, how could you do this? I don’t understand . . .’ To my surprise, I saw that he was almost in tears and for a second, my conscience pricked me.

‘Er, David you shouldn’t have seen that. I’m sorry.’

‘What on earth were you doing?’ he demanded.

‘Oh, that little show? It was nothing David. Just a little warm-up for us. I was only enjoying myself a little. Getting myself revved up for you.’

‘WHAT?’

I continued with the script in my head, the one I’d read twelve months earlier on a website for people whose partners were addicted to porn.

‘It’s just, well, our sex life hasn’t really been that . . . you know . . . racy. I wanted to hot things up to help us start over again. So I’ve been spending some time with these guys.’

‘Spending time with these guys? You mean, this isn’t the first time? Shit Binnie, is THIS what you’ve been doing while I’ve been breaking my heart over us? Cheating on me? And us being only a WEEK married?’

This was working better than I’d bargained for. Despite the hurt look in his eyes, I couldn’t help smirking at the irony of it all and he caught me.

‘This is funny to you?’

‘Oh, David, relax!’ I said, putting an arm on his shoulder. ‘I’m not cheating. Just watching. You know, like you do. It’s nothing.’

‘You don’t think this is cheating? I never once, not once, had any other woman in my room! I never touched another woman.’

‘Well, I didn’t touch anyone either and no-one touched me. I was just looking. Like you do.’

‘And doing what?’

‘Well, I might touch myself a little bit. Like you do. Hey, maybe we can do it while we watch them?’

‘Oh, Jesus Christ, I’m going to be sick,’ he said, pushing away my arm.

With each ‘like you do,’ the pain of remembering everything I’d ever caught him doing behind my back came rushing back stronger than before. It was almost as though David was an antidote to the male strippers and margaritas. I pointed to the open toilet door. ‘The lavatory is that way.’

He made a bolt for it and I followed him. As he knelt before the bowl, making what sounded like contrived heaving noises, I pulled my wedding and engagement ring from my pocket and tossed them into the toilet. They landed in the water right in front of him with a spla-clunk.

‘What did you do that for?’ he screamed.

‘So that this time, when you’re shitting all over our relationship, you’ll know it,’ I said, turning on my heels and strutting away.

‘This is nothing like what I did to you!’ he shouted from the bathroom. ‘You were in a room full of men half my age, slobbering all over them. You’re killing me, Binnie!’

I heard the chain flush, although he obviously hadn’t been sick at all, and he appeared in the doorway, ruddy-eyed and looking pathetic. I almost caved, especially as I spied him turning the retrieved rings over in his hand.

‘I love you, Binnie. I do,’ he sobbed. ‘But all this has changed things. I don’t know who you are anymore.’ He put the rings in his pocket, adding, ‘I just don’t know how we can move on from this.’

‘You’re right, David.’ Tears welled in
my
eyes now. ‘How can anyone stay in a marriage where the other person is lusting over something else? Something more exciting? Getting their sexual gratification outside of their intimate relationship with another person? It can’t work, can it?’

‘You were in a room with a bunch of other men!’ he bellowed, angrily. ‘I never went that far. I wasn’t with anyone!’

‘Yes you were,’ I cried. ‘On a website. In front of a TV screen. On your mobile. You were with lots of other women! Perfectly sculpted, young, sexy, plastically and digitally enhanced women. So much so that when I wanted you to make love to me, you had nothing left to give. You make me sick. Worse than that, you made me sick – inside. I hated myself when I was with you.’

‘Is that what this was about? Revenge?’ he screamed, ‘Well, you got it. You win, Binnie.’ He turned and walked over to the door through which the guys had left – and from the distinct sound of scuffling behind it, I knew they’d been leaning against it to listen and were scurrying away, probably falling over each other in the rush.

‘I’m beat,’ he continued, opening the door to leave. ‘There’s no coming back from this.’

As I looked into his hurt, angry and what I knew were unforgiving eyes, it all became suddenly clear. I loved him more than my own life, but he could never make me feel like I was his priority, as any truly loved women should be. He was never going to stop because he just didn’t get it and I wasn’t going to be the one to make him. Even after all of this. Even long after I was gone, he’d never understand.

‘That’s all I wanted to hear,’ I said coldly, ‘close the door behind you’.