She Chose Me Part1

I was in awe of the gothic splendour of the main hall of the Wills Memorial Building. A magnificent place, unfortunately funded by the proceeds of tobacco and, indirectly, the slave trade. We filed out into the bright Bristol sunshine and I was joined by my son, William, whose graduation ceremony I had attended. I shook his hand and congratulated him on his master’s degree in aeronautical engineering.

Being a very proud dad, I had to have photographs of him in his ceremonial robes. I moved around to get the sun behind me and managed to snap a few shots before Will’s cheerful expression changed.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” he said, with more than a little venom in his voice.

I turned to see a Rolls Royce standing at the side of the road. Its chauffer was arguing with a traffic warden. In front of the roller stood a man of slight build, about five foot ten inches tall with grey hair and piercing blue eyes. At 60 years of age, he was fifteen years older than me and the man I’d least like to find at my son’s graduation.

I moved towards him, but Will was ahead of me, striding across the pavement towards the interloper.

“What are you doing here? I don’t need you and I don’t want you here. Get back in your car and fuck off back to London!”

The man put both his hands in front of him, palms towards William in a conciliatory gesture.

“Relax young man, just calm down. I’ve seen what I came for, now I need a quick word with your father and I’ll leave you to your celebrations.”

I put my hand on Will’s shoulder. “It’s okay son, I can deal with this. You get off to your champagne reception and make sure you save me a glass.”

Will turned and went back to his friends who stood with puzzled looks on their faces. He would obviously have some explaining to do. Most of his mates would know that Will was arguing with Terry Sandford, but few if any would know the reason.

“Is this it, Sandford? No lawyers, no minders, just you?”

“This is it Mr Jennings, just me. I’ve given up talking to lawyers where you’re concerned, it does me no good at all. I just want to talk to you. Just me and you man to man.”

“I’m not aware that we have anything left to discuss.”

“Please Mr Jennings. I’m not a man who is used to begging but if that’s what it takes…. Here, take my card. We’ll meet anywhere you choose. We have mutual interests and we need to work out how to go forward.”

“I don’t need to call you. The Clifton Sausage, 7 p.m., you’re buying,” I said angrily.” I’ll book the table, I’m sure your chauffer will find it for you.” .

I turned and walked off to join Will in his celebrations.

I hadn’t seen Terence Sandford in almost nine years and I’d hoped that I would never see him again.

*****

 

After only sixteen years of marriage, my darling Vicky was taken from me as a result of cervical cancer. Her death left me devastated, not knowing which way to turn. It had taken a year for the disease to take her from me, yet it still came as a shock when she eventually died. I tried to tell myself that it was an end to her suffering, and that it was better that her battle had not dragged out any longer. However, none of that stopped me wanting to keep her just that little bit longer. Every day I longed to wake up and see her face, even as thin as she’d become.

The days dragged by, and slowly I came back to the land of the living. I had a twelve-year-old son and a daughter of only ten, so falling into a morass of self-pity was not an option. I had some help from Vicky’s sister Madeleine, who was with us at the end and stayed for another two weeks. After that my mother did her best, but mum was torn between me and dad, who was himself not well.

No matter how long you live with someone, there are always some surprises when they die. Mine came in the form of a savings account she told me about once when the end was near. She told me to take the death certificate to the bank and I would automatically get access to the account. She didn’t tell me that the account contained more than £40,000, enough to pay off the mortgage on our house.

By the first anniversary of Vicky’s death, we were starting to get back on our feet. I couldn’t face the idea of my children becoming latchkey kids so I quit my job and started working from home as a consultant. Both Will and his sister Zoe did their best to pull their weight around the house and I tried my best to be both mum and dad to them. Our house was filled with love, but we all knew there was someone missing. Every night the words of Sting would come home to me. “The bed’s too big without you.” he sang and I couldn’t hear it without crying.

Almost fifteen months after Vicky’s death, the letter arrived. At first I thought it was a sick joke, then I thought it was a scam. It purported to come from, a company of solicitors in London. I studied it, I even showed it to Will. We looked up the solicitors on the Internet and they seemed to be genuine. The wording seemed extremely vague.

Mr. Vaughn Jennings, husband to the late Victoria Jennings. You are invited to ring these offices quoting the reference number above. If you do so, you may learn something to your advantage.

I was mystified. Did Vicky have had another secret account? Neither Will nor I saw any trap in it so I rang the office of Wallace, Wallace & Simkins. As soon as I gave them the reference. I was put through to a Mr. Anthony Johnston.

“Mr. Jennings, you are the husband of the late Victoria Jennings?”

“Yes I am, what has this got to do with Vicky?”

“Are you familiar with the name of Terence Sandford, Mr Jennings?”

“There can’t be many people who haven’t heard of him, but of course I have. Vicky used to work for him when we lived in Sunbury.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jennings, it seems that you are the man we need to talk to. Unfortunately, this is a matter that can’t be dealt with over the phone. Could you come into our office so that we can discuss it? We’ll pay you full expenses including loss of earnings, irrespective of the outcome.”

I realised I couldn’t lose so I made an appointment. I arranged for Will and Zoe to go to Mum’s in case I was late getting home, and on Wednesday morning I set off for London.

*****

My experience was that solicitors always kept you waiting, much to my surprise, I was shown into Johnston’s office as soon as I arrived.

Anthony Johnston was a tall well-built man in his fifties. I sized him up as he came across the room to meet me. I guessed six-foot-two, a little taller than me. Broad shouldered I could imagine him playing rugby in his youth.  He had brown eyes, salt & pepper hair , a square jaw with a cleft chin. He was probably the sort of man who had no trouble finding lady friends.  He offered his hand and I shook it.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Jennings, thank you for coming. Please take a seat.”

He guided me towards a chair and returned to his desk.

“Before we start, I must point out that in cases like this, we like to record our interviews.” He pointed to a video camera fixed to the ceiling in the corner of his office. “Is that okay with you?”

“Cases like what? I still don’t know why I’m here.”

“Cases which involve substantial amounts of money, with conditions attached. It helps us prove to our client that we have explained everything correctly. So are you okay with the recording?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Thank you, now let’s get down to business. I represent the interests of Mr. Terence Sandford.”

“Sandford? I’d have thought with his money he’d get the senior partner on his case. Mr. Wallace at least.”

“Both the Wallaces are long since dead I’m afraid. I am the senior partner. Now, if I may continue?”  

I nodded for him to continue.

“As you may have read in the papers, Mr. Sandford recently lost his two sons in a boating accident in Acapulco. This means your wife’s children are his sole surviving blood relations.”

“What are you talking about?  My wife’s children? You mean my children, my William and my Zoe. My  children … nothing to do with Sandford.” I was starting to get irritated.

“Oh dear, I’m sorry Mr. Jennings. Mr. Sandford said that you were aware of the situation.”

I got out of the chair and leaned across the desk. We were almost nose to nose when I spoke.

“Just what situation would that be, you slimy piece of shit? What are you trying to say about my wife?”

I had to give him credit for the fact that he never backed away. He remained remarkably cool, but then it wasn’t his wife that was being insulted.

“Will you please sit down, Mr Jennings and I’ll do my best to explain.” I fell back into the chair and let him continue. “Mr. Sandford has sworn an affidavit to the effect that for the last two and a half years of her employment, he and your wife carried on a sexual relationship. He thought you knew and that was why you moved to Somerset.”

“Mr. Johnston, I’m trying to stay calm here, but if you continue to cast aspersions on my wife’s character, I won’t be responsible for my actions. Now can you get to the point of why you’ve got me here.”

“I’m trying to do that, Mr. Jennings. Had I known that you were unaware of all this, I would have been better prepared. To get to the point, Mr. Sandford alleges that both William and Zoe are his biological children. He believed that it was quite right that the children should be with their mother. Now Mrs. Jennings has passed, he feels that as their biological father, he is best placed to care for them.”

“NO!” I shouted. I slammed my fist down on Johnston’s desk so hard that his pens leapt off the desk. I got out of the chair and started pacing up and down in the office.

“He can’t do this. Look I’m sorry about his boys. I know how it feels to lose a loved one, but just because he’s lost his family doesn’t mean he can steal mine.”

I was losing it. That’s what the pacing was all about, trying to control my aggression.

“How is any of this supposed to be to my advantage? Just tell me that.”

“I’m coming to that, Mr. Jennings. Mr. Sandford appreciates the way you have cared for his children over the years. As a token of his appreciation, he is prepared to settle on you the sum of £300,000.”

“You what? You mean he thinks he can buy my children? Well, tell him fuck off and peddle his lies somewhere else. My children are not for sale.”

Johnston tried to stand between me and the door. I pushed him aside. I’d almost reached the door when it opened and I came face to face with him for the first time. Sandford closed the door behind him.

“I should have known better than to send a boy to do a man’s job. Just sit down, Johnston and let me deal with this.” He turned to face me. “Now listen to me, Jennings, I may not have had the benefit of your education, but even I can count to nine. Neither of those kids was early, they were both spot on time. You can try and fight me on this and end up with nothing, or you can give up now and walk away with three hundred grand.”

“You are NOT taking my children. I don’t care how much money you’ve got. I’ll fight you every inch of the way.”

“Be sensible about this, you know I can give them a much better life … it’s not as if you’ll never see them again. I’m sure we can work something out.”

“Just fuck off out of my life.”

“Look, if it’s the money, I can make it a half million.”

He couldn’t have said a worse thing. I lunged at him, grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him towards me.

“I wouldn’t sell my kids to you for any amount of money,” I shouted. “Now take your fucking money and fuck off out of our lives.”

I pushed him away. He stumbled and fell as I stormed out of the office. All the way home I was in complete turmoil. The arrogance of the man amazed me. To think he could step in and buy a family; he must be mad. 

As some of the heat went out of my anger, I started to think about what Johnston had said. It couldn’t be true. I found the idea of Vicky having an affair for two and a half years, to be totally preposterous. I would have known. I tried to think back to that time in our lives. Were there any telltale signs that Vicky was cheating on me?

The allegations were still whirling through my head when I arrived at Mum’s to pick up the children. Will had told her all about the letter so she had to quiz me on the events of the day.

“Well, what did they want? Was it worth your while?”

“It was a waste of time Mum, so no, it wasn’t worth my while.”

“But they said it would be to your advantage.”

“Well, it wasn’t.” I snapped back at her.

“But the expenses covered your costs?”

“I didn’t claim them, alright? Now just leave it, Mum.”

“Can’t I be concerned for my son without being snapped at?”

“I’m sorry Mum, I guess I’m a bit cheesed off. I’ll be okay tomorrow. I hope Will and Zoe haven’t been any trouble.”

“They’re never any trouble. We love having them, you know that.”

The talk of the children brought tears to my eyes. I tried hard to disguise it as I gathered up the children’s belongings, but I guess there’s no fooling your mother. The concerned look she gave me as I left told me I’d been unsuccessful. The children hadn’t been in bed long when the phone rang. It was Vicky’s sister Madeleine.

“Vaughn, how are you?”

“I’m fine Maddy, how about you?”

“That’s not what your mother says. She’s worried about you. What happened today, Vaughn?”

“Bloody Sandford, the bloke she used to work for. He claims the kids are his.”

There was a silence at the other end of the phone.

“Maddy, are you still there?”

“Yes, sorry Vaughn. Can I come over to talk to you, tomorrow? I’ve got something for you.”

I tried to get more out of her but she was having none of it. I had no option but to wait.

At 10 am the following day, I found Maddy waiting on my doorstep. I invited her in and made some coffee. We sat at the dining room table drinking coffee while I waited for Maddy to produce whatever it was she had to give me.

“Vaughn, you know I love you, don’t you. Not in the same way that Vicky did, but enough to want to protect you from things that might hurt you or the children.”

“Of course I do Mads. You’ve been a great help to us over the last year. We’re really grateful to you for all you’ve done. I’m sure Vicky would be pleased.”

“Well there was something else she asked me to do that perhaps I should have done a little sooner. Before she died Vicky wrote you a letter. She knew you would be struggling after she’d gone, so she asked me to hold on to it until I thought you could cope. I’m sorry, but I should’ve given you this before.”

She handed me a white envelope. I opened it and took out the letter inside. As I unfolded the letter I caught site of her handwriting and tears came to my eyes. Maddy squeezed my arm as a comforting gesture as I unfolded the letter and started to read.