Love with a Capital C

By Olly Makenzie

This is a fictional story of a girl named Elizabeth and the book is from her point of view. It starts in her school days identifying her lifelong friend Julie.

Elizabeth goes on to become a qualified solicitor and during her training she meets Gerry Drake, the owner of a couple of nightclubs in town and subsequently falls in love with him.

As things progress she goes to live with him in his large country house. As their relationship develops, Gerry gets into a gambling debt to a Bill West, the owner of a local Casino. To pay the debt off, Elizabeth has sex with Bill only to find that her partner Gerry had already paid off the debt in cash a few days earlier.

Bill West having videoed their altercation tries to blackmail Elizabeth but as things progress, Bill dies of a heart attack. As a result of his death, Elizabeth acquires a number of CDs and when playing one of them, comes across a woman name Mary whom she falls deeply in love with and starts a torrid love affair. Their secret affair has a disastrous effect on Mary’s husband Gerald and as the affair progresses, Mary develops terminal breast cancer. Over the following months, Mary’s condition starts to affect both families and friends and during this period Elizabeth becomes pregnant and the story ends where one life begins where another ends.


Main Characters :-


Elizabeth Jones / Drake, Her story.
Gerry Drake, Elizabeth’s partner and club owner.
Julie, Elizabeth’s lifelong friend.
Mary Kelsall, Elizabeth’s lover.
Gerald Kelsall, Mary’s husband.
Bill West, Casino owner.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Apr 6, 2020
• ISBN: 9781728398679

Olly Makenzie

My Name is Ken Horleston, a 77 year old widower and retired engineer. I live by the Churnet Valley, a picturesque area of the Peak District in the Staffordshire Moorlands. A large part of my working life was taken up flying all over the world. I have two daughters 5 grandchildren and three great grandchildren.

Book preview

Chapter 1

My name is Elizabeth Drake, and I am about to reveal to you how my life as a doting, loving partner changed when I found my true sexuality, and the pain which ensued. Despite my forty years, I have kept myself fit and healthy, with a 35-22-35 figure that has varied very little over the years.

In my early years, I enjoyed my school days and seemed to pick things up fairly easily. This ability helped me a lot in my later school days and at our local college. My best friend was a girl name Julie, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed little girl. We first met in primary school and remained friends all through our school days. When we reached the senior school at eleven or twelve years of age, we were always talking about the lads we fancied and a couple of teachers, a Mr Dash and a Mr Wayne who were rather dishy. Some nights, I would lie on my little single bed and play with myself, thinking what it would be like touching them. It didn’t take me long to come to an orgasm; it felt so good.

When it came to lads, Julie was always a step ahead of me. She even had a boyfriend when we were in the junior school. We were about twelve when, in the school holidays, a gang of us would walk across the fields to a small stream, where we would build a dam to create a pool just deep enough for swimming. It was an ideal spot at a bend in the stream, with a large overhanging willow tree shading the water and a narrow section that made it easy to dam. It was always the lads who would go in the pool while we girls sat on the side and watched—that is, until one day when the boys were taunting us to go in the water. Like a shot, Julie jumped up.

Come on, girls. Let’s show them. And in a flash, she was down to her white cotton bra and knickers and into the water. None of us were brave enough and just sat on the bank, mouths wide open in amazement.

Oh, my god, said one of the girls as Julie splashed around in the water. What is she doing?

Some of the lads were lying on the bank drying off in the sun when Julie eventually came out of the water. I heard one of them say, Wow, look at that, and as I looked at Julie, I could see what had attracted their attention. The water had made Julie’s white cotton bra and knickers cling to her, and you could see her nipples standing out in the bra. Even I was amazed at the size of the protrusions and the prominent dark patch at the front of her knickers where she had started to develop her pubic hair. To the lads, she must have seemed naked. One of the girls, Grace, dashed to her with a towel and sat her down on the bank, and when she told her how exposed she was, Julie didn’t seem a bit embarrassed.

It was a similar day to this, hot and sunny and not a cloud in the sky, when I first experienced the sight of a developing male body. The lads were out of the water and drying off. As I looked to one side, George was facing away from us, towelling himself down. He was quite a big lad, with short ginger hair. I could see all his naked back and buttocks. The sight caused a little tingly feeling deep down in my tummy, and when he turned to one side, I had a full view of his penis and balls and small wisps of pubic hair. I had never seen one in real life, only in magazines. It was two or three inches long and hanging limp over the sack holding his balls. My tummy was now working overtime, and the tingling inside had developed into explosions. I shall remember that view for the rest of my life.

I couldn’t wait to get home. I went straight up to my room and couldn’t get my little pink knickers off fast enough. I lay on the edge of the bed facing the mirror and watched my fingers pushing my lips apart and rubbing my clitoris. I lay back and built up the image of George’s penis in my mind. My rubbing got more intense, and the little explosions were getting larger. Then my whole body seemed to explode. I had never experienced such an intense orgasm, and even minutes later when I was lying back on my pillow, I was still having little eruptions deep inside. I lay there for quite a while taking in the pleasure and ecstasy I had just experienced, but I was brought crashing back down to earth by my mother’s voice.

Elizabeth, come on. Your tea’s ready.

When we were fourteen, in the summer months after school, six or eight of us would go to the banks of an old disused quarry overlooking the town. There were three or four girls and three or four boys. We would generally sit around talking, and the boys would throw in a few swear words, and the longer we were there, the ruder the boys got. They often taunted Julie about going in the water in her bra and knickers two years earlier and talked about how they would like to see her now, but she would just laugh it off. One of the lads, James, had become Julie’s regular boyfriend and would always accompany her home.

There was a lad named William, a skinny little lad who lived just down the road from us and who would always walk me home. Walking home one evening, William out of the blue said, I think Julie and James are having sex. Has she said anything to you?

This stopped me in my tracks. You are kidding. Julie would never do that, and anyway, Julie would have told me if she had.

It’s only what I’ve heard. After all, they do see a lot of each other.

Yes, I said, but I am sure they don’t do that.

I kept this playing on my mind for a couple of days, not knowing whether I should ask Julie or not. A few days later, I was sitting on a bench in the park and plucking up the courage to ask her when she came to me looking all excited.

I’ve done it, she said.

Half knowing what she was saying, I asked, Done what?

She looked at me, wide-eyed, and said, Had sex. It was wonderful!

I had hundreds of questions going through my head. This was so exciting that I didn’t know which to ask first. The first words out of my mouth were, Tell me! Tell me! Who was it, and what happened?

Well, she began, "my parents were out at a birthday party and said they would not be back until the early hours, so I asked James if he wanted to come round to watch a film with me. We sat on the sofa, and with his left arm around my shoulder, I snuggled into his side. It wasn’t long before his right hand was touching my breast. He had done this before, and it was quite nice. He did this for quite a while, and I could feel my nipples getting hard and my tummy starting to tingle. As we started to kiss, I felt his hand go down between my legs, pushing them apart and rubbing my fanny through my jeans.

"He asked me if we could do it, but I was a little nervous and told him I didn’t know. He kept asking while he was touching me, and I told him I wanted to but was frightened it might hurt. He said he would try not to and lay on top of me. I could feel him fumbling between my legs, and then there was a sharp pain. It really hurt, and I wanted him to stop, but it was too late—he was inside me. At first, it was a bit painful, but as he kept going, the pain turned to pleasure, and I had a little orgasm.

"He was going quite quickly when he pulled it out, and all his white stuff went onto my belly, and seeing traces of blood all over the end of his thing made me realise that I had just lost my virginity. I think I would have cried if it hadn’t have been for the pleasure I was feeling in the bottom of my tummy.

"When he asked me if I liked it, I told him it was OK, but it did hurt a bit. He said it would be better next time, and when I asked him how he knew, he told me that he had overheard his elder sister talking to her mates. I felt so strange lying in bed last night. I couldn’t take my hands away from it, thinking, I am no longer a virgin. I couldn’t wait to tell you, but you won’t tell anyone, will you? I don’t want them thinking I’m a slut."

I reassured her, Of course I won’t. That’s what best friends are for.

On the way home, I asked her if she thought her mum might know what she had done, but Julie said that she couldn’t see how, as they had flushed the tissues down the toilet. I told her that I just thought mums had a way of knowing these things.

Later that evening, having put on my pyjamas, I lay back on my pillow, pushed my hand down the front, and played with myself until I had quite an intense orgasm just thinking of Julie having sex with James. I finally fell asleep with that lovely feeling deep down between my legs.

Walking to school the next day, I warned Julie about having sex at her age and that she could get in big trouble, but she just laughed and called me a prude. Over the following weeks, I often thought what it would be like to have sex, but that’s as far as it went. Although there were a number of boys in our school whom I fancied, I didn’t think I would let any of them touch me there. I was also frightened of it hurting me, doing it under age, getting pregnant, and the worst of all, my mother finding out—this would have been the end of the world for me at that age.

By the age of sixteen, I had dated two or three lads, nothing serious, and only one got as far as rubbing my knickers; I remember this, as it was the first time I had really come with someone else touching me, and the next morning, I remember picking up my dirty knickers and seeing the crotch matted together with the dried juices from my orgasm. You guessed it—I brought myself to another orgasm at the sight of my matted knickers. By this time, Julie had gone through a number of boyfriends, had sex with most of them, and even had a pregnancy, which her mother made her terminate. I saw very little of Julie during this time; she didn’t attend school very much and always seemed to be grounded. When I started university, we lost contact altogether and would not see each other again until a lot later in life.

Chapter 2

I really enjoyed my days at our local university, a sprawling complex which had been built a couple of hundred years previous, and I was lucky to get a place, as most of my friends had to move to other cities to find places. I had decided to study law, which was really hard work at first but seemed to get easier as time went on. My dad, now in his forties, was great when it came to revision. He would go through my work and ask me questions, and if I got one wrong, he was so patient: he would coach me and ask it in a different way until I got the correct answer. I was so lucky to have his help, as I don’t know who would have helped me if I had moved to another college.

The first two years were pretty intense, and I had very little time for anything else, although I did have the odd night out with the girls. There was a couple of nice guys at our local pub, a small place that served all-day meals, but boyfriends were really not on my shopping list, and my sex life was just lying on my bed playing with myself. It took me three years to get my law degree, but to take it any further, I had to be employed with a law firm. My father once again came to my rescue, getting me a job as a student with a local firm of lawyers whom his company used for their business transactions. The company was located in a row of terraced houses, converted into offices. I still had a long way to go: a legal practice course and training contract, which could take another few years of hard work. Over the following months, I was moved around the different departments: divorce, personal injury, contract law. It was a good experience, and I really enjoyed the work.

A few days before my twentieth birthday, walking through reception, I noticed a very nice-looking young man sitting in the waiting room. He wore a dark pinstriped suit, black patent leather shoes, and a very colourful tie, and he had a rather large briefcase on his knee. Our eyes immediately fixed on each other, and as though in a trance, I was about to walk into the door pillar when Ann, our receptionist, broke my fixation.

Liz, could you take Mr Drake up to Mr Jones, please?

Mr Jones was my boss, a sometimes grumpy old man who looked after contract law.

As we approached the stairs, Mr Drake said, After you, gorgeous.

As I climbed each step, I could sense his eyes burning into my buttocks as they swayed from side to side in my little, tight blue skirt; just the thought of this really excited me. I opened the door of Mr Jones’s office, and as they shook hands, Mr Jones said, Hi, Gerry. How are you doing?

Fine, Matthew. How are you? he replied.

At this, I left them to it and went back to my desk, but I couldn’t stop looking back at the office. He had clearly had an effect on me.

When he came out of Mr Jones’s office, he put his business card on my desk and said, When you’re in town, call in and have a drink on me.

Thank you. I may just do that.

When he had gone, the girls came over to me.

He must really fancy you. He has never even looked at any of us like that.

The feeling was mutual. It was the first time in years that I had ever looked at a man like that, and I had never had the feeling of butterflies in my tummy like this before. Jane, one of the girls, said, Go for it, Liz! He’s rich, single, and owns two nightclubs in town.

That night, I lay in bed rubbing the little bud between my legs and reading his business card, a colourful little card with Sensations printed across the middle and, in one corner, Mr Gerry Drake, Proprietor. This excited me even more, and my whole body arched as I had an almighty orgasm. I would never go in a pub or nightclub on my own, and although I wanted to see him again, I stuck to fantasising about him. That is, until a couple of weeks later, when Rosy, out of accounts, invited me to her birthday party at Sensations, the nightclub which Gerry Drake owned. I tried not to show too much enthusiasm but couldn’t wait for that night, hoping that I would see Gerry again.

The place was very posh, all glass and chrome, with coloured flashing lights everywhere and the staff all dressed in smart black-and-white uniforms. We were having a great night, and I think we had all had a little too much to drink; but the drinks kept flowing and the night moving on, and I had still not seen Gerry. It must have been around midnight when he finally appeared. We were all sitting in one of the large semicircular booths with black leather seating and a circular glass table with coloured lighting shining through the middle; these were all round the dance floor and all full of people. Gerry was carrying two bottles of champagne.

On the house, ladies. Happy birthday, Rosy.

He then beckoned to one of his employees, who brought over a tray of champagne glasses. Gerry looked straight at me and said, How lovely to see you again, I hope you are having a good time.

If only he knew how I was feeling right now! Just seeing him sent a lovely shiver through my body.

Yes, I told him, I am having a really good time.

For the next hour, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. They followed him all round the room as he was talking to clubbers and his employees. It wasn’t long before Rosy announced, The taxi’s here, girls. Get your clobber—it’s time for home. As we were leaving, Gerry came to me and put his hand on my shoulder.

Going already? he said.

Afraid so.

You could always stay, and I could take you home later.

Although my body wanted to, I told him, Thank you, but it’s nearly two o’clock, and I have to go to work tomorrow. Maybe some other time.

He turned me towards him, kissed me on the cheek, and said, OK, but let me treat you to a meal one night.

My body was now tingling and I just wanted to kiss him passionately, but I stood back and said, That would be nice.

As I started to move away, he said, Oh, I am so sorry, but what’s your name?

Looking back at him, I answered, It’s Elizabeth.

I’m Gerry. I’ll ring you at work tomorrow.

As the door closed behind me, it was as though I was floating and in another world. All the way home, the girls were talking and laughing, but I never heard a word—I was on another planet. Although I was a bit drunk, I couldn’t wait to get up those stairs, get my knickers off, and do some serious petting. I don’t know how many orgasms I had before I finally fell asleep. The next day at work, we were all feeling the aftereffects of the previous night, and productivity was probably at zero. All I was doing was replaying last night over and over again in my head, and I was still on cloud nine. It was getting late in the day, and my heart was sinking slightly, as Gerry had not called me. I thought, Perhaps another day, but just as I was packing things away in my desk, ready for home, the phone rang. The voice at the other end said, It’s Gerry. Sorry I’m late, but I had a meeting at the brewery.

Just hearing his voice lifted my heart.

That’s OK. I’ve been busy myself, I said, stretching the truth.

If you’re free tomorrow night, I would like to keep my promise and take you out for a meal if you still want to.

My pulse was starting to race as I replied, OK, that would be nice. The tingling in my body felt so good.

E-mail me your address, and I shall pick you up at eight o’clock.

OK, I said and put the phone down.

By this time, a couple of the girls were standing by my desk, and the questions started: Where’s he taking you? When are you going? What are you going to wear? I thought the girls were more excited than I was, but the feelings inside my body were filling the innermost parts and I felt as though I wanted to shout Yes, yes, yes! but thought better of it. As I was leaving the office, the girls made me feel even better, as I heard one of them saying, The lucky cow. I wish it was me. All the way home, I couldn’t think of anything else but tomorrow night. Mum had tea ready when I got home, but, nipping to the toilet for a pee, I couldn’t help myself—I had to play with it and quickly came to an orgasm.

I had e-mailed my address to Gerry earlier in the day and was now sitting at my dressing table deciding what colour lipstick to put on. I was wearing a size twelve body-hugging blue dress which was a little revealing, but at least, wearing a G-string didn’t show any panty line where it hugged my buttocks. He turned up bang on eight, wearing dark trousers and shoes and a smart casual blue shirt, waiting to open the passenger door of his gleaming new Mercedes.

You look beautiful, he said as he opened the door.

I replied with a little nervous but excited Thank you.

After a few pleasantries, the conversation explored our likes and dislikes—food, clothes, etc.—and being as we both lived relatively local, why we had not met before? But when we started on our school lives, it was evident that he was quite a bit older than me—in fact, eleven years, me being twenty and Gerry, thirty-one. We arrived at this little out-of-town restaurant, an old cottage-type building with a thatched roof and small windows. The whole building was framed with an assortment of large oaks and pine trees which must have been quite old and faced a view across open moorlands. Once inside, the manager, a man named Gerald, and the waiters greeted Gerry like a long-lost son.

Mr Gerry, he said, it’s been a while. How are you?

I am fine. Gerald, this is Elizabeth, he said, turning towards me.

Please to meet you, ma’am. Your table’s this way.

It was a lovely little homely place with low beams and a log fire at the end of the room.

I come here quite a lot, if you hadn’t already gathered.

I then opened my mouth before engaging brain and said, Do you bring all your girl friends here?

I could have bitten my tongue the moment I had said it, but his answer flattered me.

Yes, but none as beautiful as you.

I can’t ever remember having such a beautiful evening as this, and with a man whom I was falling head over heels in love with. He had been the perfect gentleman, and when he dropped me off around midnight, he walked me to the door, held me in his arms, and kissed me firmly on my lips. I went all weak at the knees, and it was as though I was floating, when he said, You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met.

With my heart pounding, he asked when he could see me again. Although I knew very little about him, I was hopelessly in love with him. After that evening, we saw each other every weekend and three or four times in the week. I couldn’t wait to see him; it took me back to those schooldays crushes, but this was for real. It seemed like forever before he touched me sexually, if you can call stroking and lightly squeezing my buttocks sexual. It did progress to the occasional rubbing of my breasts and fingering the crotch of my panties. If he had taken it further, I would never have stopped him, and I would melt every time he said he loved me so much. We spent a lot of our time dodging from one of his clubs to another. He had managers and some good staff who virtually ran the clubs for him, but he would always keep his finger on the pulse.

Chapter 3

Gerry lived alone in a large six-bedroom, square-shaped mansion with acres of grounds and round pillars each side the large oak front doors. The windows were tall and narrow, with stone mullions separating the large glass panels. The house could not be seen from the narrow lane, and the large entrance had electrically operated gates with a drive which meandered through scenic woodlands, finally revealing the majestic view of the house. The name on the two pillars at the road entrance was Broad Oaks—aptly named with the two large oak trees each side of the gates and the numerous large examples within the grounds which were hundreds of years old. I remember the first time he took me there I was like a child in a toy shop. Looking around, I said, Is this all yours?

I remember him laughing and saying, It could be yours too.

I was speechless and wide-eyed, taking it all in. The entrance hall was huge, with two semi-circular staircases meeting in the middle at the top, forming a central landing. Between the two staircases on the ground floor were two large, heavy doors which opened into a large oak-panelled sitting room with a spacious inglenook fire place. The real breath taker was the view from the far end of the room, where glass-panelled doors opened onto a large veranda overlooking tiered gardens and paths leading to a river in the distance.

Over the following weeks, Gerry took me to Broad Oaks at the weekends, in the daytime, as the evenings were mostly taken up running his nightclubs. He used contractors to look after the gardens, lawns, and any building repairs, and after a few visits, I had got to know his cleaner, an elderly lady named Frances, who lived just down the road. She was a great little old lady in her seventies and had been employed at Broad Oaks for over forty years, seeing it change hands three times, one being Gerry’s parents, who left it to him after their tragic death. I learnt a lot about Gerry—his likes and dislikes, what food he preferred, what his old girlfriends were like—and she said she had never seen him so smitten about a woman as he was with me.

One night in the week, we had spent the evening at his place and were relaxing on his huge tapestry sofa. It started with a kiss, then another, and then our tongues were probing each other’s mouths. We were both getting excited, his hands squeezing my breasts through my blouse and bra. He slowly unbuttoned my blouse, and I unfastened my bra to expose my breasts. He licked and sucked one then the other. As his hand rested on my thighs, I moved my legs apart, and his fingers went to the crotch of my knickers. He soon found my little bud and was delicately caressing it, making me have those little explosions deep inside my tummy. He moved my knickers to one side, and I could feel his finger slip between the lips, searching for my clitoris. It felt so good I didn’t want him to stop. His fingers were fetching me to an orgasm, but when his finger was about to enter my fanny, I shot upright. Although we had previously done some heavy petting, we had never gone this far. He quickly withdrew his hand.

I’m sorry. Have I hurt you?

I just gazed into his eyes for a brief moment and bit my bottom lip.

No, it’s fine.

He looked at me lovingly.

If you don’t want to go any further, that’s fine with me.

Still staring into his eyes, I said, No, I really want to do it, but there’s something I have to tell you I paused. I’m still a virgin.

I saw his eyes widen and his mouth open slightly.

That’s OK, he said and then gently kissed me. You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.

My reply was drawn out.

But I do want to, now, here, with you.

Our faces were inches apart, and with a caring look, he said, Are you really sure you want to do this, as once it’s gone, it’s gone forever?

We never blinked, just looked into each other’s eyes.

I’m really sure. I want to do it, here, now, with you. I have never been so sure of anything in my life.

We just sat there for a moment in each other’s arms.

I got up off the sofa, grabbing his hand and pulling him up.

Come on—let’s go upstairs, I said.

The excitement was already welling deep down between my legs at just the thought of what we were about to do. I was on another planet and can’t remember going up the stairs, but once inside the bedroom, I couldn’t wait to get my clothes off and was down to my knickers before he had his shirt off. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t take my knickers off and just stood there, not really knowing what to do. Facing me, he must have seen my eyes fixed on his erect member as he pulled me towards him, and with our lips locked together, we fell onto the bed. The little tingles and explosions in the base of my tummy were getting larger and more frequent. He guided my hand to his penis, and I heard him take a sharp breath as my hand encircled his hard member. This was the first time I had ever touched a man’s penis, and it started an amazing feeling sweeping from my loins right up through my body; I thought I was going to explode. He started to kiss my neck and shoulders, working down to my breasts, where he licked and sucked my nipples; it was as though they were directly wired to a spot between my legs, where I was about to have another little orgasm. His hand was between my legs, parting the lips and then rubbing my little hard clitoris, causing another wave of ecstasy to rush through my body. His finger was moving up and down quite freely, aided by the fluid from my orgasms. He lay between my legs, our lips just inches apart, and I could feel the head of his penis nestling between the lips of my fanny. I was still having explosions deep between my legs and just wanted him to do it, when he looked caringly into my eyes and said, Are you sure you want to do this? I love you too much to make you do something you don’t want to.

I could hardly speak as more fluid trickled from me. We kissed, and I said, Yes, yes, please. I love you so much.

I tensed a little as I felt the head of his penis touch my little entrance, and thinking of what Julie said some years earlier, I was waiting for the pain. When it came, although it was a bit painful, it wasn’t half as bad as I had imagined. As his penis pushed inside me, I gave out a little moan, at which he stopped and asked if I was OK.

Oh, yes, please keep going.

The more he stroked his penis in me, the better it felt. I could feel this intense wave welling deep down in my tummy, and the more he stroked, the greater it became until I went rigid, arching my body as the most amazing orgasm went all through my body, rendering me helpless beneath him. He evidently sensed my orgasm as his strokes became faster and faster, and then he suddenly withdrew his penis, and I watched as the head, having traces of blood, rested in the curly hair of my mound, shooting his white semen through the hair and over my tummy. He was the first to speak.

I haven’t hurt you, have I?

No, it was beautiful, I replied.

He reached for a box of tissues from the side of the bed and proceeded to wipe the white, sticky fluid from my tummy, although I would not have minded if he had left it there.

Sorry for the mess. I hope you didn’t mind. I should have asked.

I looked him in the eyes, kissed him, and told him he could have left it there, as it felt nice on my tummy. We lay in each other’s arms for ages as my body slowly came back to normality. That evening, as I lay on my little bed at home, I was still on another planet, replaying the evening over and over again in my head. Although I was a little sore down there, the feeling was so good. I had just lost my virginity to the man I loved. The next morning, I hadn’t been at my desk ten minutes before the phone rang.

Hi, it’s me. I’ve just rung to see if you’re OK.

Just hearing his voice made me feel warm inside.

Yes, I feel great. Thank you for last night—it was so nice.

There was a short pause. I am so pleased. I thought I may have put you off me.

I laughed. You’ll never put me off. I love you too much.

The reply was quick: I love you too.

We chatted for a few moments before he asked if he could see me tonight to which I swiftly agreed.

Yes, do we have a repeat performance?

But before he could answer I said, That was a joke.

He laughed. OK, see you tonight.

Chapter 4

My life changed quite a lot over the following months. I remember sitting in Gerry’s large morning room overlooking the flowering gardens, when I asked him what his parents were like and how they had died. Gerry paused and then said, You are the first person who has ever asked me what they were like.

He paused again.

Most people know the circumstances of their death, he said.

I don’t, I said, taking his hand in mine. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. I don’t want to bring back any sad memories.

Both our hands came together, and with that loving smile, he said, It’s OK. I don’t mind talking about it.

We settled back in the large tapestry sofa.

It happened five years ago, when they were on holiday in South America. They were taking a boat trip down the Amazon River.

He sat staring at the wall.

They never found them or the two guides, but the boat was found some days later at the bottom of some rapids.

He paused again, and I could see Gerry getting a little upset.

Come on. Let’s have a drink.

Driving me home later in the evening, Gerry was quiet; the memories of his parents had evidently had an effect. After that evening, I was careful not to mention them again.

Over the following months, we settled into a regular pattern: we saw each other two or three nights in the week, and at the weekends, we would spend our time dodging between the two nightclubs until the early hours of the following mornings.

Sometimes I would drive myself to the club in my little white Fiat, which my father had bought for me on my eighteenth birthday, just three months after passing my driving test.

It was my little pride and joy: it never let me down, was great on fuel, and would go a whole month before I had to refuel. I’d been seeing Gerry for about nine months when out of the blue, one evening he said, Come and work for me.

I just stood there, speechless. I had not expected that.

Doing what?

Manage one of my clubs.

Wow, I said. I don’t know. Can I think about it?

Yes, of course. I am sorry, I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that, but it would be nice. Take as much time as you want.

I spent the next few days taking in what Gerry had said. I really didn’t know what managing a nightclub entailed. Although I had been going to the clubs with Gerry for the past nine months or so, visiting and working are two different things.

There was a lot to think about, like what to do about my current job. If I quit now, all the studying would have been for nothing, and I didn’t have too long before I qualified; but I loved Gerry so much and wanted to be with him all the time. I would feel awful if I let him down.

Then there were my parents: what would they say, having supported me through college? And they even helped me today. I couldn’t let them down either. Whatever I decided would probably hurt one or the other.

Managing a nightclub sounded so exciting, even though I knew little about it. I expected organising hen parties and stag nights would be part of the job—but was this what I really wanted? But again, the thought of being with Gerry seemed to rule my brain.

I just couldn’t think clearly for more than two minutes without thinking of Gerry, but then in one clear moment, I thought of Old Dependable, my dad. I didn’t think he would be very happy if I quit the solicitors’ now, being so close to qualifying. In the past, he had always given me sound advice. I was afraid it would end up in a slanging match, but even so, I had to ask the question.

Mum had made a lasagne when Dad and I arrived home from work, and I thought during dinner would be a good time to mention it. We had almost finished the meal before I plucked up the courage. Looking at Dad, I said, Gerry has asked me to manage one of his nightclubs.

Dad stopped eating.

How would that work? Do you mean in the evenings when you’ve finished work, or full-time?

He just stared at me, waiting for an answer.

I think it would have to be full-time. I paused. I can’t see how not finishing until three or four in the morning and then having to get up at seven would work. I think it would have to be one or the other.

His head went to one side.

And what do you want to do?

The question stunned me a little. I had not seen that coming.

I don’t know. I expect I want both, but I know that’s impossible.

My brain was franticly trying to find a logical solution.

Dad put down his knife and fork.

OK, let’s start by looking at where you would like to be in, say, five or ten years’ time.

Married, I hope, Mum chimed in quite seriously.

Dad laughed.

OK, but that doesn’t help us now.

In ten years’ time? I paused to think. I have never given it a thought.

Well, now is the time to start, Dad said, looking a little more serious.

Let’s forget work for a moment. He paused.

Do you see yourself as a housewife, married, children?

He paused again, waiting for my response.

I suppose so. I haven’t given it much thought.

Mum was now looking quite serious.

You should stay where you are. You haven’t known him five minutes. She glared. You could split up next week, and then where would you be?

Dad took a deep breath.

Your mum’s being a little dramatic, but she does have a point. We were all silent for a moment.

How long have you got before you qualify—twelve, eighteen months? That’s a very short period of time in the scale of things, and all the hard work in getting where you are today would be wasted.

He was right, as always. What was eighteen months when compared with the rest of my life?

I met Gerry at the club the following evening, feeling very nervous as to how I was going to tell him that I wanted to continue with my career.

I had a drink as usual and circulated round the club, talking to some of the regulars, trying to spy a chance to get Gerry on his own. A number of times, I said that we need to talk, but someone always interrupted. It was getting quite late in the evening when he came and sat with me in one of the booths.

So, what do we need to talk about? he said, sipping his drink.

It’s about me managing one of the clubs, I said nervously.

Don’t tell me, you have had a better offer, he said jokingly.

No, be serious. I’ve been worrying all evening how I was going to tell you that I want to continue with my career. There, I’ve said it.

That’s great, he said, pulling me to him and kissing me firmly on the lips.

But I thought you wanted me to manage one of the clubs. I was now a little puzzled.

I did—I mean, I do, only because I thought it’s what you wanted.

Whatever gave you that idea? I asked, waiting for the reply.

Well, you get on with all the staff, and you seemed to like being here, so I naturally thought you would like to run the place. He