There's No Accounting For Love

Chapter Thirteen

Spring arrived and the clocks went forward. It was now the end of March and there was a happier mood in the office. Angie and Clare were able to go out and about into town shopping during their lunch break without getting wet or being frozen to the bone.

One afternoon, they were busy working at their computers when a terrible clatter came from Alan's office. Clare knocked on the door and walked in, not waiting for an answer. Alan was sitting back in the chair with one hand on his forehead. Files and papers were scattered haphazardly over his desk and shattered glass lay on the floor from a photo frame; Marie's photograph. His jacket was thrown untidily over the back of the chair, along with his tie. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone and his hair was messed up. Clare was alarmed to see him looking so disheveled.

"What's wrong Alan?" she asked as she closed the door.

Alan looked up at her, but didn't speak at first. He was too upset, apparently. She waited for an answer.

"It's Marie...she's left me. She said she doesn't want my children and she doesn't want to be my wife." Alan was distraught. Clare went straight out to Angie.

"What's happened?" asked Angie, with concern.

"Alan's not well, Angie. You'd better cancel his 3.45 appointment."

Clare returned to Alan's office and closed the door behind her.

"I'm so sorry, Alan. When did this happen?"

"Last night. We had a blazing row and she came out with it. I knew we were having problems, but I didn't expect that! We've been trying for a baby for a while and do you know what she did? She had an abortion several months ago and didn't even bother to tell me! How could she do it? She knew I wanted children." Alan looked as close to tears as anyone could, but didn't lose control.

Clare was shocked to the core. "That's dreadful, Alan." she said.

"She's killed my baby" said Alan with a sneer "and she's having an affair with some...some older bloke in her office." Alan drew a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose.

"I love her Clare, I really love her! She's not been easy to live with and we've had some terrible arguments, but I really love her. What am I going to do?" Alan sniffed loudly. "I can't live without her."

It was common knowledge in the office that Alan was besotted with his wife. Clare wasn't sure what to say, what should a person say at a time like this?

"Well, you can only take it one day at a time. Get through today and tomorrow will take care of itself."

There was silence as they digested this wisdom.

"I've heard that somewhere before." said Alan.

"I think you should go home." said Clare "Angie has cancelled your appointment. Go home and get some rest."

In the end, Clare drove Alan home in his black BMW as the trauma had brought on a migraine. "You don't mind driving, do you Clare? I'm fully insured." he said.

"You might be insured Alan, but do you trust me?" she asked. She knew how much Alan treasured his BMW.

"Yes, I trust you." he said quietly, handing her the car keys.

"Do you get migraine often?" Clare asked, as she opened the car and they climbed in. Alan was incapable of any reply, he had closed his eyes and was sitting in the passenger seat looking pale and washed out. Clare helped him fasten his seat belt. She had trouble prising directions from him and she'd never been to the apartment he had shared with Marie.

It took a long time driving through the heavy traffic and when they arrived she parked the car where Alan directed. They went up to his apartment, which was as Clare expected it to be, modern and impressive. 'Alanesque' Angie would call it, just like him, immaculate and smart.

Unfortunately, Alan was violently sick in the bathroom. After a while, he came back into the lounge and put some tablets on the table by the glass of water, which Clare had fetched from the kitchen. Then Alan kicked off his shoes. She noticed with embarrassment that there were no holes in his socks: no matter what she did, Hal always had holes in his. Alan lay down on the sofa, in obvious pain, with a wet cloth pressed to his forehead.

"I hope you'll be all right Alan. If you need anything, just call." Clare placed her home telephone number on the table, next to his car keys. Alan muttered something, which she couldn't hear and Clare left quietly, closing the door behind her. She caught a taxi home.

Alan wasn't in the office the next day. Angie said when Alan had an attack it could last two or three days and completely knocked him out.

"He gets visual disturbances with his migraine, called scattered vision; headless bodies running around and flashing lights." said Angie. "Classic Migraine, they call it."

"That's horrible." said Clare "I'm lucky, I'm never ill."

"You should never say things like that." said Angie, in mock horror. "It's a big mistake. Take it back now." she smiled at Clare "You'll catch a terrible cold or something."

Clare told Angie that Alan was upset because Marie had left him and that had caused the migraine. Angie was shocked, but she didn't seem surprised. They decided to keep the news to themselves for now, as they both had great respect for Alan.