Manchester Vice

Chapter 6

6

At some time prior to all of this, Sandra had started getting home late from work more frequently. She put it down to a promotion she’d been given which had brought with it more responsibility.

I couldn’t help but notice the way she dressed for work had changed in recent months. It was business-like, but sexier than before. I often wondered why she was making such a special effort all of a sudden. I put it down to the need to impress her colleagues. But sometimes I speculated that it might be something else.

Things came to a head the day after I discovered Jim’s journals. I went to a pub for a few beers, and Sandra told me she was going out ‘with the girls’. These were friends of hers from her University days.

We both got ready, said goodbye to the kids and the babysitter, and went our separate ways. I went to a pub in Manchester’s Northern Quarter, and Sandra went God knows where with her youthful friends. She was over twenty years younger than me, and one problem I’d encountered with our age difference was that, in some ways, our worlds were totally different.

I like to go to traditional pubs and enjoy real ale and conversation, mostly about sport and trivia, whereas Sandra enjoys clubbing.

For many years I’ve gone to the same pubs and bars with the same small group of male friends. On this particular night I was forced to break with tradition because of Mike Rudd, a newcomer amongst our crowd. He’d joined the Manchester Daily News a couple of years before as an Associate Editor. He was forty-five, but thought he was twenty-five.

Rudd dragged us to a combination of club and wine bar. The drinks were overpriced and there was no draught beer, but at least there were places to sit, and I have to admit the scenery, which included a large number of well turned-out young women, was rather eye-catching.

Two of the women in particular caught my eye – Laura and Zoe – the two Sandra was meant to be out with that evening. At least, that’s what she’d told me. But there was no sign of Sandra. I wondered if she was in the Ladies. I kept looking towards the corner where the toilets were located, but Sandra didn’t appear.

When I got home that night, she was still out, so I read some more of Jim’s journal. Eventually I heard Sandra open the front door. She must have noticed I was still up, because she came into the front room. Jenny, the family cat, raised her head lazily to check who it was, and when she saw that it was only Sandra, she settled down for another kip.

“How was your night?” I asked.

I confess my eyes wandered up and down her body, taking in her shape, and her – I couldn’t help but use the word in my head – packaging. I have always been an admirer of good packaging on a woman, and Sandra’s was better than most. She was wearing a close-fitting silk dress that showed off many of the features I most admired about her, including the tempting valley between her breasts.

“Really good,” she replied.

“And how about your friends, how’s Laura?” I asked, watching the expression on her face closely.

“She’s fine, still at the agency, still enjoying it.”

“And Zoe?” Sandra’s brow furrowed at this point, but she didn’t miss a beat.

“Zoe’s still having problems with Clive, but she’s happy enough.”

Either she was lying to me, or maybe she had been with Laura and Zoe, parting company with them to enjoy a night out with someone else. Either way, she was keeping something from me. But I didn’t try to interrogate her; softly, softly catchee monkey.