Love Stories

I would like to thank Randi for her invitation to participate in The Art of Falling story event.

Please enjoy all of the stories. I believe everyone will be in for a pre-Christmas treat!

I'm not inclined to make a big deal out of stuff. As a child, my history teacher described me as "taciturn to a T." I didn't know what that meant, so I looked it up later at home and found it meant reserved or saying very little. That is still true today, pretty much. In fact at work I am, or rather was, known as Laconic Lewis, because my name is Lewis Porter.

Why a surname for a first name? My dear late mother really had the hots for the actor Kevin Whately, so she decided that she wanted to name me after him. My father didn't think much of Kevin as a name, my mother didn't like the name of the character he played in the detective series Morse, Robbie, so they hit on a compromise of calling me Lewis, as the detective he played was Robert 'Robbie' Lewis.

I got a degree in Business Administration and my first job was at Arthur Long Associates, working with the eponymous Arthur Long who had founded the company 30 years previously. Although I wasn't exactly what you would describe as his right hand man, I was certainly up there in the top layer of his management team.

After I'd been there for three years I met Penny Lane, who worked in the marketing department (Yeah, her dad, Arnold Lane, was a Beatles fanatic and a bit of an idiot, at least in my opinion). We hit it off, we fell in love and we got married. We bought a three-bedroom semi in a fairly decent part of our town, not far from our company offices.

Although Penny wasn't exactly my first girlfriend she was the first woman that I really felt comfortable about being open with. Taciturn? Meh. Probably shyness, looking back on my life.

We talked long into the night on many occasions, we talked of having children and we were looking at buying a four-bedroom detached house in an up-and-coming part of town.

Obviously, I still loved Penny but as it transpired Penny didn't love me anymore. If she ever had? But she hadn't the decency to let me know. How did I find out? I'll tell you.

Arthur had always been keen on the company attending trade shows, from the early days when he would pose as a visitor and wander round trade shows meeting people, making business contacts and avoiding being thrown out by security, to nowadays, when Arthur Long Associates would often sponsor trade shows.

There was talk of a new trade show in Cardiff, the capital of Wales, which he wanted to be involved in, so he asked me to visit the venue, talk with the organisers and the Business Development Officer of the Welsh government.

Actually, the latter meeting was cancelled at very short notice, because he'd been called away to a meeting at the Welsh government offices in Holyhead, which was right at the other end of Wales, at the top.

As a result, I packed my bags, signed out of the hotel a day early and was soon heading to our home in the English Home Counties. I sent Penny a text message telling her of my change of plan, but I didn't know if she read it.

Once I was back in our offices, I had to go into the room where we stored our presentation material and equipment to put some stuff away, and whilst I was there, I learned that my marriage had been over for quite some time but that nobody had had the decency to bother to apprise me of that fact.

The storage facility was a large basement room, and designed like a warehouse with different zones for storage of different trade show materials from leaflets to trade stands which were all stashed in an alphanumeric system. As luck would have it I was at the far end of the room, round the corner in Z-9.

Two of my colleagues came in shortly after I did, and they were at about A-2. They began to talk and their words talked my marriage away. Due to the cavernous nature of the room, the sound of their voices carried very well indeed.

"Have you heard any more about Penny Porter and that prick Dave Rogers?"

"No. Why, what's happened now?"

"Turns out Dave was supposed to go down to Cardiff to scope out a new trade show at the Motorpoint Arena in Cardiff. But he faced Arthur down and said, "Why not send Porter? That way he'll be out of the way for what I have in mind."

"No fucking way! He was that brazen? The cheeky fucker! I don't know why Arthur puts up with that! And he had to know that Dave meant giving Lewis' Penny a good seeing to!"

"It's all due to nepotism, really. See, Dave has something that poor Lewis will never have. Dave's mom is Arthur's little sister, so he gets away with all types of shit that nobody else would."

"Yeah, that makes sense. Explains Dave's apparently charmed life."

"I feel for Lewis. Poor sod's done great work for Arthur down through the years, and by way of a reward instead of the seat on the board of directors he might have expected, Arthur sends him off on a wild goose chase whilst he lets his bloody nephew fucks Lewis' missus. And that's not right, is it?"

"Well, no. It's not. I have thought about ways of anonymously tipping him off, but it's not easy. I can't let it get back to Arthur or I'll lose my job, and with the bloody mortgage we're saddled with and uni fees for our two kids, I just dare not risk it."

"Yeah, I see what you mean. I'm in a similar boat, really. Pass me that box, please. Ta. They've been at it for several months at least and Lewis hasn't noticed anything, or at least he's not done anything about it."

"Maybe he knows, but either doesn't mind or is like everyone else here, too frightened to say anything? After all, as you alluded to, there are rumours that Arthur is thinking of moving Lewis up onto the board of directors, so rocking the boat wouldn't be a good move at the moment."

"No, I suppose not."

"Who knows that his wife is having an affair?"

"Pretty much everyone in the company, really. Anyone that matters, certainly all the C level management staff. Maybe some others, too."

"Maybe. Well, you know how rumours spread. Anyway, is it true that Penny intends to divorce the poor sod and marry Dave?"

"So I've heard. Don't know if it's 100% true, though."

They left the room, their jobs of doing whatever it was they were paid to do completed, and destroying my marriage at the same time. I didn't even recognise their voices.

I finished putting the items away and decided to leave the building.

It appeared that everything I thought I knew was wrong. The love of my life and my wife, was neither the love of my life or really my wife. My boss, friend and mentor was really a lowlife piece of shit, and my career at Arthur Long Associates was nothing like I thought it was. Was over, in fact.

My colleagues, who I had thought I could trust, clearly weren't worthy of my spit, let alone my trust.

In the space of a matter of minutes I had lost everything that I held dear to me. My wife, my future children, my home and my employment. Both of my parents had died before I'd met Penny, I'd been an only child, so that was why losing Penny was such a big deal to me. She was like that song from donkey's years ago, "You to me are everything the sweetest song that I could sing" but not anymore. Not now.

I wanted to tell someone, but who? Actually, since I was a day early, I had seen nobody who would recognise me, so I could escape from work and try to see how to address this shit storm.

I booked a room at the local Premier Inn Hotel and looked through Google for a good divorce lawyer. Get the best one before the bitch could.

Luckily, I was able to get a Zoom appointment almost at once (there was only one local law firm Pleasant and Pleasant that offered that service, so I went with them) and spoke with one of their family and matrimonial matters services, a Miss Jane Pleasant.

I explained to Miss Pleasant what I knew. She was making notes and she looked at me through the screen and said, "What do you want, Mr. Porter?"

"I want to divorce her for adultery. But won't we require evidence? Hire a private detective and suchlike?"

"In the old days, well before even my father's day, the only way to prove adultery was to catch the guilty couple in action with independent witnesses, photographs, etc. That's all changed for the better, thank goodness. Hiring a private detective is a possibility, but they are limited by the laws governing the gathering of data. The interception of mail has always been illegal, and the laws regarding privacy have been beefed up to include tapping of phones, hacking emails and the like.

"We use a local detective who is ex-police. His name is Geoff Lithgoe, and he runs a company called Detectif Investigations. If you like, we can handle all that for you. He will not do anything shady or illegal, but if there's evidence to be found, Geoff will get it for you.

"Having said that, it won't be cheap, his fees and ours, but as someone once said, "'What price can you put on peace of mind'?"

I agreed with her sentiment, but I still needed to know how much I'd be expected to fork out. "I'll e-mail you the cost for filing the divorce (but don't worry, we'll deal with that for you), which is 600-odd quid to the government, there's Geoff's fees of perhaps £1,000 and our costs will start at £5,000 as our first tranche fee, but I'll keep you informed of any likely extra fees. We are, however, a family law firm and we try to keep our rates reasonable."

"Would I need the detective?"

"Well..." she paused for a moment, then nodded her head. "Yes, I'd advise that you bite that particular bullet and hire Geoff. We have worked with Geoff ever since he left the force to start his own agency, and he is very, very good. Unless your wife suddenly gets a fit of conscience and says, 'Yes dear, I have been having sex with Tom, Dick and Harry, I agree to your divorce terms,' then yes, you'll need Geoff's expert help. Incidentally, do you have any idea who she is having an affair with? If you do, how did you find out?"

I told her about the conversation that I had overheard. It felt good to be able to tell someone what I had found out.

"That's good enough evidence for starters," she said. "However, you'll need more evidence if you want to go for adultery, and Geoff will, hopefully, be able to gather the evidence that you need. However, there are other points that you will need to consider. You almost certainly will not want to continue working for your employer under these circumstances, so I would look at going for a constructive dismissal claim.

"We are what I like to describe as a full-service law firm, so we'll be able to handle that side of it, too. I'll pass your details on to our employment law section. And if I were you, I'd start building up a case now. Get in touch with your doctor and get a sick note for as long as possible on something like PTSD. I'll get the divorce paperwork started. Should you decide to reconcile with your wife, we can easily withdraw the action. Is reconciliation on the cards?"

I thought for a couple of seconds before replying: "No. Not a chance. If what those guys were saying is true, she wants to divorce me and marry Dave Rogers, then I don't see reconciliation as being possible."

She nodded and said "Yes, I can understand that. Also, I'll pass your details on to Geoff so he can make a start."

After we finished the call, I phoned my private doctor service and was able to get a video appointment almost immediately. He emailed me a sick note for three months, blaming PTSD due to a hostile work environment and psychological issues. He also sent a prescription over to my pharmacy for some paroxetine for my PTSD.

I forwarded the sick note to my employer's Human Resources Department. I decided to take the bull by the horns and phone Penny.

"Hello?" she answered the call. Was it my imagination or did she sound suspicious? "How are you, Lewis? Are you still scheduled to get back tomorrow?"

"To be honest, I have been better. I am actually already back in town. When I got to the office, I overheard two random colleagues talking. They were talking about you and Dave Porter. It turns out Porter is Arthur's nephew. Is it true about you and Porter being in a relationship?"

She gasped, and said, "What did you hear?"

"That you and he have been in a sexual relationship for many months. And that you are going to divorce me and marry him. Is it true?"

.

She paused before replying. "I wish that hadn't happened, Lewis. I wanted to tell you myself in a controlled, loving way. I still have feelings for you, but I love Dave more. I'm sorry but that's the way it is."

"You realise that the whole situation is so fucked up that I'll have to leave the company?"

"Oh, no! Why?"

"Because all of my colleagues in management know. And apparently Dave got his fucking Uncle Arthur to send me to Cardiff in his place so that he could spend time screwing you. Did you know that?"

"No, Lewis. I didn't. And if that's the case, well I'll have to have words with Dave. The whole thing between he and I should not involve you, humiliating you like that. That was wrong."

"That's as maybe, Penny, but everyone knows that Porter has got his uncle to get me out of the way to screw you. How many times has that happened? Was Cardiff a one off, or were there other times when that happened?"

I don't... I don't think so!" It was obvious that there had been but Penny didn't want me to know what a slut she was.

"Will you be coming back home?"

"No. I won't. I'm in a hotel for the moment and I'll sort something more permanent soon enough."

I terminated the call.

What to do? Get drunk? Why? What had my mind and body done that I should punish them for what Penny the slut had done?

I went to the bar of the hotel, ate a rather acceptable burger, had three pints of Brew Dog Punk IPA and retired for the night.

The next morning, I put a call in to a friend who owns several apartment blocks in our home town. He arranged to meet up for coffee and made me an offer I couldn't refuse. He offered me a modest furnished two-bedroom flat that came with a 'job' of being the building supervisor. We signed the agreement, I got the keys and moved in that evening. I went to the house in the afternoon. Fortunately, Penny the slut was either at work or screwing Dave, so I was able to get everything I needed from the house, passport, paperwork, clothing, etc.

I felt depressed, but managed to cope with that by counselling arranged through my private doctor. I'd long ago given up on the NHS as a bad job.

I have to say that the investigator the solicitors recommended was bloody good. He got photographs of the twits together, and he got sworn statements of people who had knowledge of the affair. It seemed that Dave Porter had made a number of enemies at the company, who were more than willing to get their revenge on him. Actually, I did wonder if my two anonymous informants had realised that I was in the stores and deliberately talked about the affair to clue me in? I suppose I'll never know the truth. But I'll be forever grateful to them.

I decided to get tests for STDs, but thankfully I was clear.

The divorce went ahead and my action for constructive dismissal was held in the UKs employment tribunal system.

The system is nowhere near as complex as the standard UK courts. They tend to be more flexible. For example, the Employment Judge, although he or she is a judge, never wears wigs or gowns.

My firm of solicitors introduced me to one of their experts in employment law. She wasn't a Solicitor, she was a Legal Executive named Carys Morgan. She was as Welsh as her name implied. In fact, she looked like a young Ruth Madoc, from her days playing Gladys Pugh in Hi-de-Hi!

She grinned, and said, "I know what you are thinking! And although we're not closely related, Ruth Madoc is a relative of mine."

She calmed me down, prepared me for what would happen at the tribunal. What she couldn't have prepared me for was the absolute tit that Arthur's representative made of himself.

He entered the room dressed in full barrister's gowns and wearing his wig. I swear that as he swept in, he exuded a faint whiff of mothballs.

The Employment Judge, Mary Pattricks, was not amused. Well, she was, but tried not to show it. "I presume you are representing Arthur Long Associates?"

He bowed and said, "Yes, your honour. I am."

"I am not your honour. This is a tribunal, not a court. And wigs and gowns are not normal attire here. Please doff your wig."

"As you wish." He took his wig off.

Carys whispered to me, "Oh, he didn't like that! He's obviously irritated because he thought he could use his status as a barrister to intimidate us mere mortals!"

I won't bore you with the details (I'm taciturn, remember?), but the case went really badly for Arthur Long Associates. EJ Pattricks agreed that if the owner of the company not only knew that his nephew was having an affair with a colleague, but actually condoned and facilitated the affair by arranging to have the husband sent off in his nephews' place so that he could have assignations with the wife, that meant the employee-employer relationship had broken down irretrievably and that this constituted constructive dismissal.

The payout I received was £80,000. Though I also received redundancy money plus holiday pay, etc.

The industry we were in was small, though lucrative, and word soon spread about what had happened. (It wasn't me! Honest. Remember, I'm taciturn, right?)

Eventually, despite his sister's protests, Arthur sacked his nephew. That was generally held to be too little, too late. He lost several senior staff because they realised if he would conspire with his nephew to let him fuck a member of the executive team that his judgment couldn't be up to much now.

The divorce went through quite rapidly. The evidence of Geoff's company and the evidence used for the constructive dismissal were also introduced in the divorce action.

It was the standard 50/50 split. I felt irritated that Penny was, in effect, profiting from the fact that she'd been a cheating slut, but I was free of that cheating slut, so it was worth it from that point of view.

I set up a consultancy working from home and took some of Arthur's clients, so that was good.

After the money from the tribunal case was paid into my bank account, I decided to pluck up my courage and I phoned Carys and asked her to meet up for drinks. To my delight, she agreed.

She looked gorgeous and she surprised me, but in a good way, by ordering a pint of Brain's SA, a beer from South Wales. I had my usual pint of Brew Dog Punk IPA, but afterward I switched to Brain's SA. Yeah, taciturn, but not stupid!

We chatted as we drank, and it turned out that she had been born in a small town in Mid Wales, which was actually very close to where my grandparents had farmed. She held my hand, stared into my eyes and said "See! I knew there was something special about you! You are an undercover Welshman!" We both laughed at her joke.

I was falling in love with her, and not just because she looked like Ruth Madoc.

We dated over the next several weeks: trips to the cinema, going out for drinks, dining out.

I invited her to my apartment for a meal that I had cooked. Over the meal, sharing a glass of wine from a Welsh vineyard, I took her hand and told her how I was developing feelings for her.

She squeezed my hand, smiled and said, breathily, ``What do you think we should do about that, then?" She glanced toward my bedroom door. Well, that had certainly developed quicker than I had even dared hope.

I nodded, smiled and led the way. Yeah, we made love. As cliched as this might sound, I felt a deeper, more loving connection with Carys than I'd ever felt with Penny during our dating or marriage.