Tell Tale: Stories

The Cuckold

Adam Weston and Gareth Blakemore always met on a Sunday evening to share a bottle of wine and put the world to rights.

The venue never changed, only the wine, which was always vintage and selected by Adam. But then he was the proprietor of the Swan Inn, a popular gastropub on the outskirts of Evesham.

Gareth was Adam’s oldest friend, a successful lawyer by profession, with chambers in Lincoln’s Inn. He’d recently been appointed a QC, and he and his wife, Angela, lived in a Victorian pile at the the other end of the village. Gareth would usually drop into the Swan around seven, before traveling on to London. Tonight, he was late, very late, and Adam knew why.

Gareth walked in just after nine, looking tired and depressed. He gave his friend a weak smile, before seating himself on a stool at the far end of the bar. Adam uncorked a bottle of wine, poured two glasses, and joined his friend.

“What is it?” asked Gareth after taking a sip.

“An underrated Cabernet Sauvignon from Napa Valley that’s proving rather popular with my regulars.”

“I can see why,” said Gareth, taking another sip.

“How’s your week been?” asked Adam, aware there was no time to waste.

“You don’t want to know. Tell me your news, because it’s got to be better than mine.”

“We had a good week,” said Adam. “Greene King have offered me the opportunity to buy the pub, but at the moment I just don’t have that sort of money.”

“How much are they asking?”

“Two million. It’s a fair price, and the only stipulation they’re insisting on is that I continue to sell their beer for the next ten years.”

“That seems fair enough,” said Gareth, “assuming you made a decent return last year.”

“Turnover was almost a million, and after rent, rates, and taxes, I showed a profit of around ninety thousand, not including my salary.”

“Sounds like a worthwhile investment to me.”

“And I have plans to add another dozen or so covers in the restaurant. I’ve also got my eye on a chef who’s working at the Savoy. Tells me he’s sick of commuting up and down to London every day.”

“That all seems rather promising, but what’s the bank’s attitude?”

“They’d loan me a million at four percent, but would expect to have a lock on all my assets, including the pub. So I still need to raise another million from other sources, and wondered if you’d consider coming in as my partner?”

“I’d love to,” said Gareth, “but you couldn’t have chosen a worse time.”

“But I keep reading in the press that you’re one of the most successful barristers in the royal courts.”

“Yes, but not for much longer.”

“How come?”

“Angela’s filed for divorce. I have a preliminary meeting with her lawyers tomorrow morning. They’re the meanest in the business, and I should know — I recommended them.”

“How come?”

“Angela told me she was asking on behalf of a friend, and the friend turned out to be her.”

“I’m really sorry,” said Adam. “I had no idea,” he added as he looked across the bar at his old classmate.

“I have to admit that it hasn’t been a bundle of laughs lately,” Gareth said, after taking another sip of his drink, “and I’m mostly to blame. If you spend the week in London and can’t always get back at the weekends, it doesn’t help.”

“But divorce or no divorce, you must still have a worthwhile income from the bar.”

“And I’m going to need every penny of it,” said Gareth. “Angela’s lawyers are driving a hard bargain. They’re demanding the manor house as well as the villa in the south of France, and that’s just for starters.”

“But you’ve still got the Chelsea flat, which must be worth a bob or two,” said Adam.

“True, but I’ll need to hold on to it if I’m going to survive,” said Gareth. “Fortunately she thinks it’s rented and I told her it’s coming up for renewal next year.”

“Then perhaps it might be wise to settle with her before she finds out how much it’s really worth.”

“I’d agree with you in normal circumstances,” said Gareth, lowering his voice, “if I hadn’t just found out she’s having an affair. And if I could only discover who the bastard is, I’d be in a stronger position.”

“What makes you so sure she’s having an affair?”

“I found a cufflink under the bed, and it certainly wasn’t mine.”

“Gareth found a cufflink under the bed and told me it wasn’t his.”

Angela calmly lit a cigarette. She inhaled deeply before saying, “Then we’ll have to be more careful in the future. If Gareth were to find out we’re having an affair, there would be no chance of me getting my hands on the two million my lawyers are demanding. Which would also mean I wouldn’t be able to invest in the pub.”

“But you still want to be my partner?” said Adam nervously.

“In every sense of the word, my darling,” Angela replied, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “But if I don’t get hold of that money, I could end up serving behind the bar.”

“That wasn’t part of my overall plan,” said Adam. “Although the moment I can move in with you, I’m going to convert the top floor of the pub into bedrooms, which would bring in some much needed extra income. But I’ll need your help when it comes to the interior design.”

“Only too happy to play my part,” said Angela as she stubbed out her cigarette. “But I still think it would be wise for us to cool it for the time being.” Adam couldn’t hide his disappointment.

She leaned across and kissed him gently on the lips. “But once he’s signed the divorce papers,” she added, breaking away, “I’ll not only be free to become your partner, but your wife.”

“I can think of another way that would convince him to settle quickly.” Angela raised an eyebrow. “Demand to see the details of the lease on his flat in Chelsea.”

“No. It’s much better he still believes that’s his trump card, and in any case, it would only hold up your deal with Greene King.” She lay back on her pillow and pulled the sheet over her. “How’s that going, by the way?”

“I had a meeting with a brewery representative last week, and we agreed terms. They told me as soon as I’m ready to put down a deposit, they’ll draw up a contract.”

“Then all you’ll need to do on Sunday is convince Gareth that he should come up with the two million, and the pub will be yours.”

“Ours,” said Adam, as he placed a hand on the inside of her leg and slipped back down under the sheet.

“It’s a burgundy,” said Gareth.

“You’d have known that,” said Adam, “by just looking at the shape of the bottle.”

Gareth frowned and took another sip. “I must admit it’s quite superb. My bet is a Clos de Tart?”

Adam half nodded. “Close, try again.”

Gareth took another sip, and looked up at the ceiling as if seeking inspiration. “Got it. Chambolle-Musigny.”

“Bravo, quite right.”

“In which case, it’s about the only thing I’ve got right this week,” said Gareth, draining his glass.

“That bad?”

“Worse. Angela’s upped the ante, and is now demanding two million.”

“Then perhaps it might be wise to settle before she demands more.”

“You may well be right, but if I could only find out who lover boy is, Angela might suddenly become more reasonable.”

“But if she found out about the flat, you could end up having to pay even more, and surely that’s not a risk worth taking.”

“Possibly, but I think I’ll still give it another week before I finally decide.”

Adam was about to pour him a second glass when Gareth raised a hand. “Not for me, old chum. I have to be off. I’ve got a breaking and entering at ten tomorrow morning, and I still haven’t read the brief. See you next Sunday.”

“And let’s hope it’s settled by then,” said Adam, “one way or the other.”

“It would be if I could only find out who the other cufflink belongs to,” said Gareth, as he jumped off his stool and quickly left the pub.

Adam refilled his own glass, but left it untouched until he saw Gareth’s car drive onto the London road. He then took the rest of the bottle through to his office. He picked up the phone and dialed a number he called every Sunday evening.

“He’s seriously thinking about coming up with the two million,” said Adam once he’d heard the familiar voice. “And I warned him of the consequences if you were to find out the real value of the apartment.”

“That sounds encouraging,” said Angela.

“Except that he’s going to give it another week in the hope he’ll find out who your lover is.”

“So we certainly can’t risk seeing each other this week,” said Angela.

“But it’s been almost a month,” said Adam plaintively, “and I can’t wait to see you again.”

“I know how you feel, my darling, but it won’t be much longer before we can spend the rest of our lives together.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“Stop being so pessimistic, Adam. I’ll call you the moment I have any news.”

“Can you talk?”

“Yes,” whispered Adam.

“He’s agreed to the two million.” Adam wanted to scream out loud, but not while the pub was so crowded. “My lawyers are drawing up a contract,” continued Angela, “that he’s promised to sign on Monday morning, and as you’ll be seeing him on Sunday evening, all you have to do is make sure he doesn’t change his mind.”

“Not a chance of that,” said Adam. “I’ve even selected his favorite bottle of wine for the occasion.”

“Why don’t you put a bottle of champagne on ice at the same time, and if he does sign on Monday, you could join me for dinner and we can celebrate by spending our first night together in your new home?”

Adam had been standing impatiently by the phone for some time before it eventually rang. He grabbed the receiver.

“He’s just left the house so should be with you in a few minutes.”

“Why’s he so late?” asked Adam edgily. “I was beginning to think he might have found out about us and driven straight up to London.”

“You’re overreacting again, my darling,” said Angela. “He just had rather a lot of packing to do before he finally left.”

“That’s a relief, because I can’t stall the brewery for much longer.”

“I’m sure they can wait until Monday.”

“And if you can call me the moment he’s signed, I’ll put down the deposit of two hundred thousand they’re demanding, though I confess it will clear me out.”

“No need to worry yourself about that, my darling. Once he’s signed I’ll immediately transfer a million to your account and the pub will be yours.”

“Ours,” Adam reminded her, as he watched Gareth’s Jaguar driving into the car park. “He’s just arrived,” he whispered.

“Good. Just make sure he doesn’t change his mind.”

“No fear of that,” said Adam before putting down the phone. He bent down and extracted a dusty bottle of 1987 Pouilly-Fumé from under the counter. He’d uncorked it by the time Gareth marched in, looking happy for the first time in months.

“No need for you to guess this week,” said Adam, placing two glasses on the bar in front of him. “Because I’ve chosen one of your favorites.”

“What are we celebrating?”

“Your freedom, of course.”

“How could you possibly know about that?” said Gareth.

“I could tell from the expression on your face,” said Adam, a little too quickly. “So it will be just like old times,” he added, raising his glass.

“Not quite. I still have to sign the document tomorrow morning.”

“But surely you’re not having second thoughts?”

“I was, but decided on balance to take your advice and try to move on.”

“Even though it’s going to cost you two million?”

“Along with the family home and our villa in the south of France.”

“Well, at least you still have the Chelsea flat.”

“And a cufflink,” said Gareth.

“A cufflink?”

“Don’t you remember, the proof that Angela’s having an affair?”

“Ah, yes,” said Adam. “I remember.”

“And what’s more, I’m fairly certain I now know who owns the other one.”

Adam could feel his cheeks going red. He quickly took a gulp of wine. “Anyone we know?”

“No.”

“Then, how do—”

“Because I found two BA tickets for a flight to Nice in her handbag.”

Adam didn’t speak as Gareth put a hand in his trouser pocket, took out a cufflink, and placed it on the bar. Adam stared at a blue and silver crested cufflink.

“I suspect that lover boy will be joining her at Heathrow tomorrow morning, before they go on to our — her — villa in the south of France.”

Adam continued to stare at a cufflink he’d never seen before.