Just Another Friday Night In Memphis - Part 16

I didn't let it show.

It's my belief that Sarah is well aware of exactly what her mother
does, but her unhealthy fixation with her precludes any possibility
that her mother might be capable of behaviour that she would not
tolerate from anyone herself, and even if she could contemplate it she
would justify it on the grounds that her mothers happiness is more
important than anything else on earth. She is a chip off the old block
only more so.

She drove me back to where I had parked my car and said, 'Well now
we've broken the ice we can stay in touch can't we, you have my
number.'

She looked across at me and saw the tears beginning to well up in my
eyes; she leaned across and kissed me on the cheek.

'Take care of yourself George, I have to go'

I stood and watched as she drove off and out of sight, getting into my
car I was traumatised once more and quietly wept yet again.

It was Janet's 64th birthday on the 27th August and I stupidly sent a
card and a special CD I'd made for her. I put a note in the card asking
her to let me have Babs' address, or ask her to phone me, as I wanted
to send her a card at Christmas. She never replied and I assumed she
didn't want me talking to a member of her family that she had lied to,
especially not Peter's sister.

In the early part of September I was working in Rayleigh on my friend
Alan's bungalow, (Alan is Sue's elder brother) fitting new fascia
boards and guttering and Christine, Alan's girlfriend would make me
cups of tea and chat to me. On the morning of the 11th she called me
into the living room and we sat as the unbelievable drama unfolded in
New York. I could hardly believe what I was seeing as a jetliner flew
into the World Trade Centre. I was suddenly gripped by an extra terror
as I remembered that Janet was flying to the USA in September. I didn't
know what date she was travelling, and at the time there was no way of
knowing which airline the planes belonged to, or where they had come
from or were going to. All day I hoped someone would call me and tell
me she was safe but the phone never rang. By teatime I had the phone in
my hand and had started to call her home for news but in the end I
fought the need to know and replaced the receiver. For a long time I
was beside myself with worry, even Christine said she thought someone
would have called and put me out of my misery. In the end it just
brought it home to me once more that my feelings were of no importance
to any of them.

About a month later I was working in Shoebury where Babs lives and my
feelings about Janet's apparent refusal to put me in touch with her
started to fester. I knew she lived in a particular block of flats but
couldn't remember the number, so one lunchtime I called at the Post
Office almost next door to the flats and asked for the electoral
register. It didn't take long to find the address and I left the PO and
walked over to the flats and rang the doorbell but there was nobody in.
I didn't go back but decided I would send the card at Christmas as I
intended.

In early December out of the blue I got a call on my mobile phone from
Babs. I asked how she got the number and she said that Janet had given
it to her. She added that Janet said she had only recently found the
note in the card. This, I knew to be another lie, Babs couldn't have
known this, but the note was on a fairly large piece of paper and I'd
put it inside the card; it was impossible to open the card and not see
it! I realised that Janet had obviously thought about what to do over
the intervening three and a half months and as it got closer to
Christmas began to worry about what I might do if I didn't hear from
Babs. She decided at the last minute to do as I asked, and hope I
wouldn't rock her boat. The delay in her making up her mind coupled
with what Sarah had told me about the counter only fuelled my
resentment about her dishonesty and so I arranged to meet Babs on the
following Saturday morning for a coffee and a chat.

She affirmed what Sarah had told me about the reason I didn't come
round anymore, and asked why she wasn't told the truth. I remember the
hurt look on her face when I explained that Janet never wanted her to
know anything about her private life.

'She's Peter's sister and blood's thicker than water, you mustn't tell
her anything, you never know, she might tell him' she would say.

Babs replied with disappointment in her voice, 'But I would never have
said anything George, I thought more of Janet than I did him, he's
always been awful, I don't blame her for finding someone else'

She could see I was very upset about Janet, and knew that I thought the
world of her. She didn't know however, that Janet had been seeing other
men, especially Tony Scott.

'No he's only a friend, why he came out with the family to Janet's
birthday meal in August' she said.

'I'm sorry Babs, but you couldn't be more wrong' I replied.

'But he hardly said a word all evening, and he's so fat! What does she
see in him?' Babs looked almost shocked at this revelation.

I eventually told Babs the whole story, the seven years, Amsterdam,
Memphis, Wales, Cornwall, Mike, Scott, everything!

She said she suspected about America, but was gob-smacked about the
other men.

She said, 'Janet was never going to leave Peter for you; you're not
rich enough. She's always wanted a man with money, all her life. I'm
really sorry for the way she's treated you, it's so unfair.'

Shortly before Christmas Kath and Harry said they bumped into Janet in
Marks and Spencer in Southend; she was busy buying Christmas presents
and mentioned how difficult it was choosing something for her sister.
Last year we were together in Oxford Street and it was me that chose a
pair of chenille gloves for Thelma and I remember Janet telling me how
pleased Thelma was with them. My name wasn't mentioned and Janet
chatted to them for a few minutes as if nothing had happened between
us. I have been completely erased from her life! I'll never understand
her if I live to be a hundred.

At Christmas she sent me a card but I couldn't bring myself to wish her
a happy Christmas; I wanted her to be as miserable as I was. On
Christmas Eve I hit a low point and rather rashly phoned Sarah and
Adrienne at the shop in Crayford. From the background noise I could
tell they were busy and there was a party atmosphere in the shop. Sarah
chatted to me briefly and told me that Tony didn't go to Las Vegas in
September but I know that Sarah has been less than truthful to me
before so I didn't know whether to believe her. I then spoke to
Adrienne for a few minutes and hung up before I burst into tears again.
The whole of Christmas leading up to New Years Eve was the worst time
of my life. I couldn't bring myself to take part in the usual
activities; I didn't put any decorations up in the house and didn't
even buy a tree, for the first time in forty years. I spent New Years
Eve on my own in front of the computer trying to find someone to chat
to. Eventually an hour and a quarter before midnight James Coon, one of
my writing friends from ABCtales, came on line and we chatted for a bit
but at 23.15 he said he was going to bed and I was on my own again. I
didn't want to be conscious of midnight so I swigged brandy from a
bottle in the hopes I would fall into a drunken stupor. I went to bed
at 23.30 but couldn't sleep for a couple of hours in spite of the
brandy.

Three and a half weeks later she sent me a birthday card. It upset me
and twisted the knife, not because she sent it but because of the card
itself. It was one of those smutty comical things that we used to give
each other when we were a couple and, as I believed, committed to each
other. It depicted a crashing plane with a sexy woman in bra and
knickers asking the rest of the passengers if there was any man on the
plane who would make her feel like a woman before they hit the ground.
She left me for another man after years of infidelity and the card had
all the connotations of a taunt. I know she probably didn't even
consider that aspect of it; she thought I would look at it and laugh
they way I would have done before the split. As my friend Andy said,
'It just shows how shallow and unthinking she is'. My other close
friends were incensed that she could be so thoughtless and cruel, Susan
saying she had no right to send any kind of card, let alone one like
that. Janet still can't seem to understand, or care, exactly what
effect she had upon me, she just thinks of herself and what she wants.
She'll never change; it's too late in the day for her now. I am still
emotionally crippled and I get through the days on autopilot, waiting
for something to happen that will make me alter course. I know I should
take charge of my life and make changes based on deliberation not as a
result of being buffeted by the storm.

27th Feb

Pat told me today that she saw Janet in Southend High Street last week.
Janet didn't see her because she and Pete were in a coffee shop and
Janet was walking down the street with a shorter woman, they went into
Boots the chemists. Things are plainly moving on for me, as I didn't
get upset as I have on previous occasions when she's been sighted. I
can see things a little clearer from this distance, and it is now
blatantly obvious to me that we were doomed from the very first moment
she had the thought flicker across her mind that she could, and would,
sate her lust elsewhere. I can't be certain of exactly when that point
was reached but it was at the very latest, some time during the summer
of 1998, just about the time she started a sexual relationship with
Michael. I have given her the benefit of the doubt, but he may not have
been the first person she cheated with, I will never know. Not for one
second during our relationship did I ever look at another woman and
consider cheating. I honestly believed she felt the same way about
me.

March 16th

The last week has seen the passing of the last milestones in the first
year since I lost her. The tenth of March last year was the last time I
saw her, the twelfth would have been our eighth anniversary, and the
thirteenth was the last time I spoke to her, albeit on the phone. Pat
and Peter have seen her in the High Street a further two times in the
last fortnight, although she didn't see them. They were not sure
whether to tell me at first but decided it would be a good test of my
recovery. I felt less upset than at anytime recently and they both said
they felt I had at last moved on. I didn't tell them or let it show but
I still care for her.

Epilogue

There are numerous other threads to this story that I have omitted,
partly because I recall them sporadically and haven't had time to
insert them in their proper chronological place as yet. Other parts,
such as the deaths of my parents, a rift in my family which ended in my
eldest son ostracising me for four years and the suicide of a close
friend, along with several years of harassment and bullying at work
resulting in a disastrously handled court case and an attempt on my
life are still too painful to write about. I shall include them as and
when I feel I can cope with them. It is still my intention at some
point to re-write this story and refine it to the best of my ability.
Reading back over this tale I realise I have spent an awful amount of
time in my life crying over one thing or another and there never seemed
to be any rhyme or reason to it all; I know people who sail through the
years with hardly any regrets or recriminations, in short nothing ever
appears to go wrong for them. Perhaps they are just good actors and
actresses! It has been a long and strange journey from Uxbridge to
Chelmsford, spanning almost sixty years, but I still live in hopes that
one day I'll walk out into the sunshine with a smile on my face. One
last thing; no member of my family has read any of this story, in fact
they are not even aware of it's existence. I fear if they were to read
it a lot of damage would be done to what is already a precarious
situation. It's a risk I have taken in the full knowledge that I could
pay a heavy price for my freedom of speech, and the right to have my
side of the story told.

(Mississippi is a nom de plume of George Van Win)

(Copyright George Van Win 2002)