Menage a Quatre ?

Phil's Story.

I look at my watch. It's 3 o'clock on Friday afternoon and already I feel the sense of anticipation that tells me that the week-end is fast approaching. Time to relax and enjoy being with my gorgeous wife, Jackie. Oh yes, bring it on! It's been a long old week and I'm just about ready for a break. I' ve just got time to nip down to Product Testing to see if the latest batch analysis is ready. As I open the office door and step outside I all but bump into Elaine from Accounts. She 's got the hots for me, I'm convinced of it. She jinks sideways to avoid a collision.

'Sorry Elaine. Didn't see you there.' Me, oozing sincerity.

'My fault,' she looks up and smiles, ' I wasn't exactly watching where I was going either. I was deep in my thoughts.'

' Oh. Really ? ' I reply, in that louche, lounge-lizardy sort of way, 'Anything you' d care to share? ' This positively dripping with innuendo.

I note with some satisfaction that she is blushing slightly. I know I shouldn' t do it but it' s only a bit of harmless mischief ! Isn' t it ?

She giggles and when she speaks she sounds a little breathless. Oh, I do like it !

' Oh, it's nothing like that, ' she gasps, ' It' s just that I haven't got my car today and I need to get to my sister's at Woodville. It' s her birthday. '

Time to give her a break then and so I offer to drop her off after work. It' s the least I can do because of how guilty I feel. I really must stop winding her up. I ve been at it for months now but it' s just so much fun !

' Oh, you're such a sweetie, ' she squeals and raising herself up on tip-toe, she puckers her lips and leans toward me, intent on planting a ruby-red smacker on my lips. Certain that office protocol and etiquette is not best served by such open displays of affection, I twist my head in a vain attempt to avoid this osculatory incursion, whilst at the same time, mentally pledging to end the teasing immediately.
Too late for regret as I feel her pouting lips skid across my shirt collar, no doubt leaving a vivid smear of brassy scarlet.

Of course, she is embarrassed and apologetic and in order not to worsten the situation I mumble an acceptance and agree to meet her on the car-park at 5 o' clock.

The journey to Woodville is uneventful. We pass the time making small-talk, neither of us wanting to re-visit the lipstick incident. I glance across at her from time to time struggling to think of something to say which might lift the atmosphere but nothing comes. I notice that she' s continuously fiddling with her ear-ring, as if it somehow relieves the tension for her. It' s doing precious little for me however and I can' t wait to get to her sister's and get rid of her.

I check the time as she gets out of the car. 6.30! And 8 miles to drive to get home. The traffic' s horrendous. I' m going to be so late !

Jackie's Story.

Sitting in the car on the drive, I' m making a mental list of the things I' ll need for dinner. But my thoughts keep drifting back to the events of the previous evening. Phil was so late I was barely able to rescue the evening meal. He had lipstick on his shirt collar, like in that pop song that my Dad used to play years ago when I was little. Now how did it go?

' Lipstick on your collar, told a tale on you. ' I feel silly as I hum a snatch of the melody to myself. And men do behave in childish ways in the office, especially towards the week-end. Just the lads having a bit of fun, he'd said. I thought it through once more. Yes, it was feasible and yet, the words of that song keep drifting back into my mind.

I can see that the windscreen is covered in dead flies and the tax disc has dropped onto the dash. I try to reach it by stretching across but it remains tantalisingly out of reach. I get out and walk round to the passenger side to stick it back on the window and as I open the door my eyes start to focus on the mearest glint of light coming from the semi-darkness between the side of the seat and the door. Kneeling down at the side of the car, my fingers stroke the carpet, touching the object that is the light source, moving it to the space in front of the seat. My heart beats faster as my curiousity builds. What can it be ? At last, I can hold it to the light. It' s an ear-ring ! But it' s certainly not one of mine ! I feel anger and hurt well up inside me, a tsunami of unbridled emotion. My hands are shaking so much I can barely put the front door key in the lock. And then I' m inside, breathing deeply, trying to calm myself, having slammed the door behind me. Phil rushes in from the kitchen.

' What on earth' s the matter hon ? ' he manages to get out before he' s engulfed in my rage.

' YOU SCREWED HER IN THE CAR DIDN'T YOU ? DIDN'T YOU ? YOU BASTARD! YOU SCREWED HER IN THE BLOODY CAR ! '

I hear only stuttering, muttering incredulity from Phil's mouth. He raises his arm defensively as I hurl the ear-ring at him with all the force I can muster. It bounces off his chest and lands on the floor in front of him. He bends down to pick it up.

'What is it ? ' he asks,stupidly.

' IT'S AN EAR-RING, YOU STUPID BASTARD ! HER BLOODY EAR-RING ! ON THE FLOOR OF THE CAR ! '

He looks bemused as his face appears to be innocently angelic and naively amazed at one and the same time.

' I don' t know whats going on here but I haven' t screwed anyone, darling.'

Pleading now.

' You must believe me. Listen to what I' m saying darling. There must be a perfectly acceptable reason for all this. '

' OH YES ! I' M SURE THERE IS ! YOU CAN' KEEP IT IN YOUR TROUSERS ! YOU COULDN' T 3 YEARS AGO AND YOU STILL CAN' T NOW ! I WAS STUPID TO STAY WITH YOU . STUPID ! STUPID ! STUPID ! '

I took a deep breath and became calm and resigned.

' Just get out, Phil. It' s finished. We' re finished ! '

Responding to the quietness of my voice, he edged toward me, holding out his arms in an empty embrace.

' You don't mean that, do you ? Nothing happened. OK. OK. I didn' t tell you the truth about the lippie. It wasn' t the lads. She did try to kiss me. But I ducked ! '

This accompanied by nervous laughter, no doubt hoping that I' d see the comic side of this revelation.

' Just get out, Phil. Leave me alone. I just can' t do this anymore. '

I couldn' t remember a time when my voice had soundedmore woeful and world-weary. Keeping my eyes to the floor, I can' t help feeling that, although my anger at Phil is heartfelt and deep, he doesn' t deserve such vitriol and bile. I hear the front door closing quietly.

I' m startled into alertness as the phone rings.

' Hello.'

I' m familiar with the voice on the other end of the line and the familiarity makes me angry once more.

' Andy ! ' I hiss through gritted teeth, ' I told you never to call me at home ! '

' No. He' s gone out.'

' No I don't know where. and I don't care either. It' s over Andy. I' m leaving him. '

' Just as soon as I' ve packed a few things. I' ll go to my Mother's to begin with.

' Bastard' s been shagging some secretary from the office. I just found out. He had her in the car last night but she dropped her ear-ring down by the seat. He denied it but he would wouldn' t he ? Oh Andy, it means we can be together now doesn' t it. I know you' ve been waiting for me to make up my mind. Well, now I have.

' Look I' d better go. Ring you later, ok ? I love you, darling.'

Elaine' s Story.

I' m standing in the lounge of my flat watching my lodger on the phone. He' s a friend of my younger brother. A drama student or, should I say , an out-of-work budding actor.He' s travelled up from London on the promise of a roof over his head, three square meals a day and if his acting was up to scratch, a little extra on the side !

Call finished, he puts the phone down and turns to me with a huge grin on his face.

' Come on, Andy, ' I cajole,' Tell me what she said ! '