Free Double Mortice by Bill Daly Page B

us. Haven’t been for some time. So I’ve decided… I’ve decided… I’m leaving you.’ He lifted the whisky tumbler to his mouth and swallowed the contents.
    Anne stopped stroking Brutus and gripped the sides of her chair with both hands. She sat for a moment in silence. ‘You can’t do that, Michael.’ Her voice was quavering. ‘We need to talk about this. We have to find a way to –’
    ‘You heard what I said, Anne,’ he interrupted, deflecting his eyes from her gaze. ‘I’m leaving you.’
    ‘Don’t say things like that,’ Anne pleaded. ‘We can find a way… – we will find a way to get through this.’
    ‘It’s too late for that.’
    ‘This isn’t you talking, Michael. It’s the whisky. Have a shower and go to bed. We’ll talk about it in the morning.’
    ‘There’s nothing to talk about, Anne,’ he slurred. ‘It’s over between us. That’s how it has to be.’
    Anne stared at him. ‘That’s not how it has to be, Michael! No matter what’s happened, we can work things out. We just need to talk about it – to be honest with each other.’
    ‘It’s too late for that, Anne. There’s someone else.’
    ‘Someone else? Not the waif from the office, surely?’
    ‘There’s no point in discussing this, Anne. I’m leaving. As a matter of fact, I’m leaving tonight.’
    Anne placed Brutus gently down on the floor and got to her feet. ‘Listen to me, Michael – and listen very carefully.’ Her eyes hardened. ‘Do you think I don’t know what’s being going on behind my back? This girl’s been around for how long? About a year? At least that’s how long I’ve been smelling Jo Malone perfume on my pillowcase every time I come back from Aberdeen.’
    ‘I’m in love with Philippa, Anne – and she’s in love with me.’
    ‘You’re deluding yourself, Michael. Can’t you see that? She’s just infatuated by the idea that ‘the boss’ fancies her. She’ll soon tire of hanging around with a flabby drunk and she’ll want the company of people her own age – guys who can last the pace in the nightclubs.’
    ‘There’s no point in any of this, Anne. I’ve made up my mind.’ Anne glowered at him in silence. ‘You won’t have any financial worries,’ he added. ‘I’ll see you’re taken care of.’
    ‘You’ll see I’m taken care of?’ Anne spat out the words. ‘You self-centred, patronising bastard! I’m warning you, Michael. If you try to walk out of here tonight, you’re through – and I mean through. I’ll take you for everything you’ve got – the flat, the business, your savings, your pension – the lot!’ She walked over to the window and stood with her back to him. ‘And by the way,’ she added, turning round slowly, ‘I don’t think I mentioned that I had a long heart-to-heart with Saoirse MacBride a few years ago.’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘Don’t tell me you don’t remember Saoirse? You played squash with her at the club a few times – about seven years ago. Surely you can’t have forgotten her? Long black hair, legs up to her armpits, big, green, come-to-bed eyes? You spent a dirty weekend with her in London when you were supposed to be attending a legal conference.’
    ‘How do you –?’ Michael broke off.
    ‘How do I know about Saoirse? Because, after you ditched her, the poor girl came to see me. She wanted to apologise to me. She was distraught and sick with remorse. She’d been caught up in the moment and hadn’t thought through the implications of an affair with a married man. She’d imagined your relationship was going to blossom into something beautiful. She told me you’d even offered to give her a job in the firm when she graduated. I assume that was before you got inside her pants. She never dreamt for one minute she’d be unceremoniously dumped after one dirty weekend. She broke down in tears when she told me about it. Her hormones were all over the place. Of course, that’s the kind of rotten hand life deals you when you’re