GERALDINE

Two hours, that's what it had taken. Two rotten hours, hanging
around just to have a sprained wrist diagnosed by the X-ray department.
Two hours wasted in the company of drunks, junkies, lunatics and
self-mutilators. That A &; E department had resembled a cross
between a scene from Clockwork Orange and Quatermas. Now he had almost
made his escape through the automatic sliding glass doors, someone was
calling him back.

"Tommy Walker?"

The voice came from behind his left shoulder. He swivelled around to be
confronted by a slim, mature blonde, about the same age as
himself.

"Geraldine," she said to jog his confused thoughts, "Do you remember me
from HNR?"

She immediately slotted into perspective. Geraldine had attended the
girls' section of the same school as him, Handsworth New Road.

Now he looked closer, her features hadn't changed that much over the
intervening twenty years. He had never considered Geraldine to be any
great beauty, but she wasn't ugly, and she had the shapeliest legs he
had ever seen on a woman.

Although they had lived in the same neighbourhood, he and Geraldine had
never really had much to do with one another while they were at school.
And the first time they met since leaving school, was quite by
accident.

Such were the fashions at the time; he had dropped into Peacocks on
Dudley Road to buy some white paper collars to wear with his striped
shirts. To his surprise, it had been Geraldine Riley had served them to
him. As they lived near to one another and she was close to knocking
off, he had waited to walk her home.

It was when he had suggested they go out together, that she had told
him about her involvement with Gary Browne, a mutual acquaintance from
their school days. Because Tom had always regarded Gary as a budding
psychopathic bully, he found it difficult to comprehend why any girl in
her right mind would touch him with a ten-foot barge pole.

"Geraldine Riley!" he exclaimed with a knowing grin.

"Browne!" she corrected him.

"Oh no!" he responded carelessly, "Not Gary?"

"Yep," she nodded, pretending not to notice the undertone associated
with his enquiry, "And we're still together. Well just about. I've just
come in with him. Passed out. You know, diabetic."

"Well fancy meeting you after all this time." It was his turn to ignore
what she had said.

Even after all this time, he considered it would have been hypocritical
of him to express any concern for Gary Browne.

He recalled bumping into Geraldine a week after their first meeting at
Peacocks. This time it had been stage managed by him. He had made sure
he just happened to be walking passed the store when she had finished
her shift. He remembered quite vividly the terrible black and yellow
swelling around her bloodshot eye. He could remember the intense
homicidal feeling that the sight of her looking so pathetic brought out
in him. He could remember his disbelief when she explained, "Gary
doesn't mean it. It's just this problem he has with self-control when
he can't express himself properly." Then, to cap it all, a few weeks
later he could remember hearing that she and Gary were marrying because
she had fallen pregnant by him.

All these memories sprang to his mind with the hiss of those sliding
doors in the background. But now after twenty years, entirely out of
the blue, she had confronted him with an even more unbelievable
revelation: She was still married to Gary Browne!

He needed to know more. "Look," he suggested, "if you're not in a rush,
how about stopping for a drink? Give us a chance to catch up on old
times."

Over a small highly polished, round, wooden table in the corner of The
Windmill's lounge, they brought one another up to date with the past
twenty years of their lives. She listened, wide-eyed while Tom told how
his twelve-year marriage to Julie had ended after she had taken off
with a work colleague.

"It had been going on for ages and you had no idea," she betrayed more
than a hint of scepticism, "Surely you must have a some
suspicion?"

"Geraldine!" She was beginning to agitate him. "Don't you think I've
run every move she made, during that period, through my head a thousand
times? And no, I still can't recall anything that was suspicious. As
far as I was concerned it was the perfect deceit."

He never felt comfortable talking about that part of his life. It
always made him feel inadequate. "So," he tapped the ball back into her
court, "at least you and Gary have seen it through. And what about your
kids?"

" Kid," Geraldine corrected him, "Claire. We only had the one daughter.
She's doing OK. Got a job as a holiday rep in Cyprus." She leaned
towards him, to lock her eyes onto his, "To tell the truth, Tom, I
think she couldn't wait to get away from her father."

"Still the same old Gary, then? D'you know, I could never understand
what you saw in him." He half smiled, half frowned at the same time.
"Now, if only you'd have taken me up on my offer that night outside
Peacocks, who knows, we might still been an item now."

"Yeah," Geraldine gave a wistful sigh. Then she batted the ball back.
"Did you and Julie have any kids?"

He gave a slow, thoughtful shake of his head. "No. Julie couldn't have
children."

"D'you think it might have helped the situation if you had?"

"No," he said, giving his head a more emphatic shake, "I suppose that
was one blessing; less complications." He swung the initiative back
onto Geraldine again. "Anyway, tell me, how bad is 'poor' old Gary's
diabetes?" he asked, ladling on the sarcasm.

"He's on regular injections and makes it worse by ignoring medical
advice - won't stop drinking. Then, when he has these turns, it's
everybody else's fault. I swear, Tom, one of these days he's going to
do himself in."

Tom just about managed to resist commenting on what a blessing that
would be to the world. Instead, he studied the lines on Geraldine's
face. He was amazed at how well she had weathered the years - far
better than he had. One would have to look very closely to see any
evidence of stress. Of course there were the crow's feet wrinkles
around her eyes - everybody of their age had them. When he looked
closer, he could also make out the scar tissue around her eyebrows; no
doubt the legacy of Gary's inability to express himself. And her nose;
it had always been less than perfect, but now there was a slight kink
about half way along its length.

"Well, how bad is this latest blackout of Gary's?" he asked as a way of
diverting the conversation away from himself.

Geraldine directed a stream of exhaled breath up her face, which
rippled the few stands of blonde hair that weren't scraped back from
her forehead. "Bad! He's in a sort of coma. Like I say, one of these
days he's going to really overdo it."

Tom wasn't really interested in whether Gary Browne was about to live
or die so he steered the conversation onto Geraldine. "Seen as it
closed down years ago, you can't be working at Peacocks."

"No," she explained, "When I got made redundant I worked at Boots for a
while. Then I suddenly realised I was going nowhere fast. So, after
studying at night school, to get the necessary qualifications I
enrolled to train as a nurse. That's what I've been doing ever since.
Been at The Woodlands, R.O.H. for ages now."

"Must be more rewarding than selling paper collars to yobs," Tom
grinned.

The deep blue of her eyes reflected a strange expression of relief.
"D'you know, Tom Walker, all the time we've been chatting away, I've
been trying to remember what the hell it was that you came in for that
day?"
Tom's thoughts immediately flashed back to that day. It was the shape
and length of Geraldine's legs in that short uniformed overall that had
first attracted him to her. He wondered if they would still hold that
attraction - as she was now wearing jeans, it was impossible to
ascertain. But it wasn't only the physical attraction. On the way to
her house, he had appreciated her conversational skills and thoroughly
enjoyed her company. That's why, despite being turned down, he had made
a second attempt.

It wasn't just nostalgia. Now, twenty years later, again he could sense
some deep-rooted affection for her. Since Julie had left his existence
had been lonely and miserable. He'd had the odd fling with members of
the opposite sex, but even in the short time he'd been chatting to
Geraldine, he felt there was something deeper there - something that
had probably lain dormant for all that time. If only she wasn't
married? Oh sod it! He decided to throw caution to the wind.

"Geraldine," he almost lost the bottle as soon as he'd uttered her
name. He bit hard into his bottom lip before continuing. "If I was to
put the same proposition to you; the one I did walking you home from
Peacocks that night, what would you say?"

Geraldine's mouth curved into a broad mocking smile. "Bloody hell, Tom,
you're as slow as you ever were. If you're asking me if I'd like to
share some time with you then yes; the answer's yes."
Tom immediately had second thoughts. "Are you sure? I mean what about
Gary?"

"I'm not in the habit of doing this," Geraldine insisted on pointing
out, "but what he doesn't know isn't going to hurt him, is it? Anyway,
you were right earlier on, when you hinted that we both might have been
better off if we'd have got it together before now. So, where do we go
from here?"

He realised he was on a roll and decided to exploit the situation.
"What do you say to coming back to my place for a nightcap?"

"Only if you promise not to throw me out onto the street after,"
Geraldine told him without so much as flicker of an eyelash.

Tom had been out of circulation for a while and he still couldn't get
used to this new permissiveness of the late twentieth century. He was
mildly shocked by Geraldine's response but he was determined not to
show it. "Great then!" he grinned. Hardly able to believe his luck, he
quickly drained his glass and indicated that Geraldine should do the
same. But then a sudden thought caused him to hesitate, "You're not in
a car, are you?"

"No," Geraldine shook her head; "Gary came in by ambulance as a
999."

"Good," Tom said in a tone that could have carried all kinds of
innuendoes, "But I'm afraid we'll have to walk over to the hospital car
park to collect mine."

"No problem," she assured him.

Geraldine had to leave fairly early in the morning. She needed to pick
up her car and the bits and pieces she would need for work from home
before reporting for her shift at the Royal Orthopaedic Hospital.
Before she left she promised to call round to Tom's house straight from
work. They had decided that was far safer than him being seen calling
for her while her husband was in hospital.

For the first time, since he couldn't remember when, Tom Walker went to
work with a spring in his step. Even Jim Lovell, his partner in the
small transport business, noticed the difference in his attitude.
"What's up with you?" he asked, "On a promise, or something?"

Tom merely responded by winking and touching the side of his nose with
his forefinger. He felt as if he had been reborn - at last there was a
touch of meaning to his life again. Like an impatient teenager, looking
forward to his first date, he couldn't wait for the clock to tick away
the hours to the evening. At lunchtime he even considered ringing
Geraldine at The Woodland, but had second thoughts when he realised it
would probably embarrass her. She was doing a long shift and so wasn't
likely to be home until after eight. So, he spent the day panning a
nice romantic meal for two to greet her with.

By half past nine he was growing concerned. By ten o'clock he decided
there must be something amiss. If she'd been kept late on the ward
surely she would have rung. He prayed that nothing had happened to her.
All sorts of thoughts went through his head. Even if she had been
injured in a car accident, surely she would have been able to get a
message to him. It was no good. He had to know.

He rang the hospital on the pretence of being her brother (he knew she
had one somewhere). No, she hadn't reported for work all day. They had
received a message saying she wasn't coming in because she had some
things to sort out regarding her husband. He had just replaced the
receiver when the telephone began to ring. Thank God, it was her.

Geraldine sounded as if she was in a state of shock. She blurted out
what she had to say in a frenzy of words. Gary had died. The hospital
and the police had been attempting to contact her since last night. She
had been tied up all day sorting out all sorts of things to do with
registering the death etc. The authorities wanted to carry out a post
mortem as they were having difficulties establishing the cause of
death.

It was a cruel thought but Tom couldn't see it in any other light: Gary
Browne was dead. It didn't really matter what had killed him. He was a
complication that was now out of the way. Things were really looking
rosy now. It could be said that the ending of one life was the
beginning of another.

Despite the years of turmoil she had suffered with Gary, Geraldine
didn't take his passing as lightly as Tom Walker did. In fact she
appeared extremely distraught when Tom picked her up from the house she
had shared with her husband in Great Barr.

"Well I can't see what the problem is," Tom declared as he aimed his
Rover back in the direction of Edgbaston, "If he was in a diabetic coma
when he was admitted, I should think the cause of death is fairly
obvious."

"Yes," Geraldine nodded her agreement, "But you know what bureaucracy
is - all that red tape and everything. I just hope they can get it all
sorted with quickly so I can get on with the funeral arrangements. I've
been in touch with Claire and she needs to know so that she can book a
flight home."

"The old bastard's being as awkward as he can right to the end,
then?"

Tom's quip was rewarded with a glare from Geraldine. "For Christ's
sake, Tom! He was a human being. He was far from perfect but I was
married to him for the best part of twenty years. I think he deserves a
bit of respect."

"Well, I think we'll have to agree to differ on all those points," Tom
shrugged.

Geraldine told her neighbours and friends that she was going to stay
with her brother in Bromsgrove until the funeral. She instead, moved in
with Tom. The results of the post mortem were published just a week
after Gary's death: although no trace could be found, it seemed most
likely that he had died from a massive overdose of insulin.

After a young enthusiastic pathologist detected a tiny syringe mark
between the first and second toes on Gary's left foot, police again
interviewed Geraldine Browne.

She was subsequently arrested and formally charged with the murder of
her husband.