Stepping out into the stark morning sunshine bore a fresh blow on his predicament. One extremely p is s ed off wife had been the least of his issues this time yesterday yet seeing her standing fingering the dead end of a cigarette made his heart sink, "Connie," feeble words that began a miserable attempt at reconcile, "come on, you're hardly peaches and cream in all of this," his bottom lip somewhat cursed as she turned round, in one fell swoop killing the butt of glowing cigarette with her pointed toe, the look on her face one he'd only seen twice in recent history, announcing the course, and her coming home from it. Her devil stare he kindly referred to it as.
"Peaches and Cream," she repeated, animosity tracing on each syllable, "seems like you prefer Strawberries and cream from my perspective," she continued, walking further away from him whilst still toying with the semi filled packet in her hand.
"Comes this from the w h o r e who dressed up like something out of an Amsterdam nightclub, you were supposed to have learnt to control your fond use of handcuffs, not magnify your need, all you had to do was ask," standing so that her face was pry to the sun he recoiled in coward as her harmonious face turned to something of an out of tune junior violin group, each furrow in her head deepening till it riled in disgust.
"Ask? Michael for f u c k s sake if I was that desperate I could have had any man at the hospital," came the wincing reply, whether that statement could be with held she wasn't sure, Ric was a sure bet, Professor Khan, well even she wasn't that low, Reg, the jury was out on him and any other man would have done fine. On the other hand she was more than confidant, Mickie, Diane, Donna at a push made her quell the will to thump him there and then. Knowing a spectacle in front of his mother would be anything but effective.
"Fat Chance, you're a surgeon not an on call sex therapist," he retorts with a high and mighty scowl berating on his face. It's been a long time since they've had a quarrel of this magnitude, especially in their extensive backyard and sniping press made it a unique experience for both of them.
"That may be but I'm certainly not around for you to abuse when you want, sending the staff on this course was over the top, making the point only served to rile everyone up and you've narrowly missed a law suit," taking a deep breath she started on another cigarette, lighting the end slowly and dragging on it for as long as fate would allow her, "calling her was desperate,"
"Calling her was practical, not what I'd call ideal, far from it, but you left me high and dry," flicking her feet nervously on the ground she let her edgy laughter fill the air as he struggled to find the works riding the balance between her b it c h slapping him and storming off in a huff bound to begin world war 3. " it's a game, that's all," perfecting the wrong comment sent her down the end of the garden, spying the bench only worn by summers of neglect and winter's of ignorance. "Connie come on, don't be such a child,"
"Leave off Michael," she replied stonily, storming till the length of the garden separated them. Deciding the less painful option was to return to the warmth of the house he made a point of slamming the French door tight shut and locking it so she was alone, her hands fumbling nervously with the packet in her hand as her mind coursed through various options, killing Mike, well prison wasn't her idea of fun, sacking Chrissie, though enjoyable it was entirely unethical, and any other choice gave little to the adrenaline rush she craved.
"Are you trying to p is s as many people as possible off," came the stony sulk of a reply, it took her a moment to decipher its origin.
"Not you too Ric," she muttered as he sunk into the damp seat, leaning over so his crumpled posture defended him against her shifty mood, it was a worrying thought that less than 12 hours ago they were having rampantly passionate sex that he'd never experienced before and now they were in a dank yard with only dead flowers and sorry looking shrubbery for company.
"He's mad to say the least, is this the desired effect?" his question was unintentional, meant more as a statement of fact rather than as a rhetorical question, turning to look at her he was slightly aghast, her skin had paled in colour, the blood draining from her cheeks; a crossfire of emotions.
"What do you think?" she enquired, stiffly taking her usual command of a tenuous situation, answering questions with more questions, suspicious of every word uttered towards her. It had become an inbuilt reaction to living with Michael; games created tension, suspicion and general mis guided trust, the sort that kept her on her toes, edgy to the point of paranoia.
"Hurting people is no way to retaliate Connie, you could have been a lot more subtle," Ric replied hastily, spewing crap that made little difference to her felt like common place now, in this sort of mind frame toying with her way pointless. It took a moment for anything to happen, a moment that he let himself slip back into memories that frequented his mind, absorbing himself in the night at the course, the way they'd felt like teenagers, free from adult restriction, free to do what they liked, wives or mothers, fathers or husbands, they amounted to the very same thing; responsibilities.
"Michael doesn't do subtle, come on Ric Michael wouldn't know any different if I had done it in an undercut way, subtly left the marriage eon's ago, now what am I to do with Mother Teresa, the w h o r e of Babylon and Satan himself, hmmm?" she let a angelic smile cross her lips before rendering her head to her hands swirling her first finger on the strained temples that continued to make stead fast decisions.
"Do they belong in the house, chuck out S a t a n as you refer to him and the rest go packing, it appears to me that mummy's boy isn't going to stick out another fight," he retorted coolly, resting back on his laurels with the cheeky grin that so often portrayed itself on his weathered features.
"That's either desperate or depraved, and I'm not sure which yet?" she smirked, returning to her feet with hands resting on her hips akimbo style "But you may well have a point, sending him out now could be amusing and serve the purpose well," stalking away with the backward glance of a smirk she winked at him before lifting a key from the brown trousers that still managed to hang elegantly and clung in the right places as he watched her shuffle the two steps into the house.
Even sitting in the garden he was aware of the ruckus in the house, the raised voices covering the audible noise of heels clanking on the wooden flooring, perfect opportunity for him to slip out the back gate, she would be in no mood to talk whatsoever, most likely to spend the evening with a bottle of red wine and the coal fire aimed at replenishing the soul, something he knew was best done on a lonesome.
"Connie you cannot be serious, there are f u c k I n g press out there," he stated simply, raising his hands to the sky in exasperation, her request had been simple, 'slip out the front quietly or get reported to the GMC for general misconduct and abuse of staff' both carried a serious dose of shame and misfortune yet he didn't seem to care that the local rag would run a mockery of him, his career was the balls of him so to speak so by bringing that into was underhand yet effective.
"And your point is Michael, you'll have plenty of support, your mother and lover can accompany you," she replied vehemently, the dogmatic smile only sent him into even more of a childish tantrum. Standing still long enough for a pointed gaze to meet his eye Michael stormed through to the kitchen, bemused as to how Chrissie and his mother could be so calm as to make coffee in the midst of a marital row as huge as this.
"Mother I'm taking you home and Chrissie is running late for work, we'd best be off," he stated icily as Connie stood out of the way in the living room, busying herself with tidying the magazine's knocked over in the kafuffle.
"But Michael dear, there are lots of press outside, why not wait a bit?" Eleanor stated mildly, taking dirty plates to the sink before reaching for her coat on the tabletop.
"Connie needs some time to herself, just get to the car as quickly as possible," he replied, slightly manhandling Chrissie towards the heavy oak door, completely ignoring Connie who'd retreated up the stairs.
Letting the latch on the door go began a frenzy of flashes, somewhat blinding Connie from her ideal vantage point in the master bedroom, peeking from behind the curtains gave her a rush she'd been waiting for, a smug satisfaction.