Page 3 of Mrs. Endicott’s Splendid Adventure

When Lionel arrived home that evening, he had the satisfied look on his face that normally meant a successfully concluded business deal.

“How was your day?” he asked, as he always did. He sat down in his favourite armchair, took off his highly polished shoes and reached for his slippers. A confused look came over his face.

“What happened to my slippers?” he asked.

“In your dressing room, I expect,” she said. “That was where you left them.”

“But you always . . . ,” he began.

“Always used to ... when I was still your wife,” she said. “Now I suggest you train Monique to have your slippers and sherry ready for you.”

“It’s Michelle,” he said.

“I bet it’s not.” She gave a little chuckle. “I bet her real name is Brenda or Beryl or something equally common and boring, and she’s become Michelle to snag herself a rich gentleman.”

His face flushed again. “She’s not like that at all. I told you, she’s a highly educated girl with a bright future. Most amusing. Good-looking.”

“Then why does she want you, Lionel—apart from your money?”

“We get along well. We’re highly compatible,” he said. “We laugh at the same things.”

“You never laugh here,” she said.

“No. You and I have never laughed much,” he agreed. “That should tell us something, shouldn’t it?”

“You’re right. We have put up with each other for too long. Maybe it’s time to make a fresh start.”

She saw the relief in his face. “I’m so glad you’ve come to thinking that way.

Better all around, eh, old thing? So ..

. I did go and see my solicitor, and he’s come up with some sensible suggestions.

” He reached for his briefcase, opened it and took out a sheaf of paper.

Then he put on his glasses before examining the papers and looking up.

“He says it makes no sense to give you a lump sum to buy a little place of your own at this moment, until you decide where you’d like to settle. He suggests a nice monthly allowance, so you can check out various places.”

“I agree,” she said.

He grinned. A flash of triumph in his eyes. “I knew you’d be sensible. You’ve always been sensible, Ellie. Well done.” He cleared his throat, an annoying habit he had, Ellie thought. He did it when he was nervous about what he was going to say next.

“So he suggests that thirty pounds a month will let you rent somewhere out of London with enough money for food and an occasional cinema. Now, how does that sound?”

“How much do you make a year, Lionel?” she asked sweetly.

“Two thousand pounds, I believe you told me when you got your last raise. Now, I will be generous and won’t demand half, but I want sixty pounds a month.

What’s more, I want the love nest in London as an investment, so I can sell it when I find where I want to settle. ”

His face had now gone white. “Quite out of the question, Ellie. My offer was a sound one.”

“Not according to my solicitor, Lionel.”

He sat up straight in his chair. “What do you mean? What solicitor?”

“The one whose services I retained today. A most wise and sound older gentleman, I found. Most sympathetic. He said it would be quite within my rights to demand half of everything, given the amount of time I’ve devoted to you.

But I’m prepared to be magnanimous and not greedy.

I have never asked for more than I actually need, have I?

So sixty pounds plus the amount from the flat should be sufficient . ..”

His face had taken on that beetroot tinge again. “Out of the question.”

“Fine.” She had been perched on the arm of the sofa. Now she stood up. “In that case, no divorce. You and Martine can live together in the love nest, unmarried.”

“But you don’t understand . . . ,” he blustered.

“I do understand, Lionel. Believe me, I understand you very well.” She held his gaze.

“You’ve always wanted your own way since day one, haven’t you?

Everything has to be convenient for you.

And I don’t see why you’re making such a fuss about my allowance.

Surely this Michelle makes a good salary, too.

You’ll be adding her money—and you won’t need the love nest any longer. ”

“Well, uh, you see ...” He was stumbling now. “She might not be working much longer. I mean, as my wife it wouldn’t be right ...”

“Oh, I do see now.” A knowing smile spread across Ellie’s face.

“You’ve got her pregnant, Lionel. How reckless of you.

So now you want to marry swiftly enough to make it all legitimate.

Or is she the one demanding that you do the right thing and marry her?

She’ll make a fuss if you don’t? Bring down your career?

I wonder what she’d say if she found out I’d refused to divorce you? ”

“But you have to, don’t you see? You can’t let the poor girl—”

“The poor girl who was fornicating with my husband behind my back?” Ellie cut him off in midsentence.

“No, Lionel, I’m afraid I don’t have much sympathy for the poor girl.

But don’t worry. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your future happiness and the joys of fatherhood.

I just want my fair share, that’s all. Sixty pounds a month and the flat. ”

“Fifty,” he said sharply. “No more than fifty, Ellie. My final word.”

“Very well,” she said, lowering her head in submission. “If you absolutely insist. I suppose it will have to be fifty pounds a month ... and the flat, of course. You can just make that over to my name. I’ll rent it out until I need to sell it.”

He got up. “Agreed, then. I’ll have Smithers put it in writing tomorrow.” He went to shake hands, then backed off. He looked around, realizing he was standing in his stockinged feet. “Now I suppose I’ll have to go and find my blasted slippers.”

As soon as he left the room, Ellie put her hand to her mouth to stifle a nervous laugh.

Old Mr Furniston, the solicitor, had told her, “Ask for more than you really want. Give him some wiggle room. Pretend it’s Baghdad market and make him bargain.

Then he’ll feel satisfied that he’s got the better of you, and you’ll get the right amount.

” He had suggested fifty pounds would be adequate as long as she had the lump sum in the bank from the sale of the London flat.

And she’d done it. She’d outsmarted Lionel.

Now all she had to think about was where she wanted to go and what she wanted to do.

Ellie woke the next morning, feeling the strange coldness of the bed beside her.

Lionel had moved to the guest room until things were settled.

It was only right, he said. Ellie quite agreed.

There was no way she would share a bed with him again.

She got up and decided she would make his breakfast, as a gesture of goodwill.

The sight of him hobbling in his socks up the stairs to find his slippers was victory enough for now.

She was actually feeling quite cheerful by the time he had gone off in the Bentley and Mavis arrived.

“Well, you’re looking a lot more chipper, that’s for sure,” Mavis said as she came in through the back door to find Ellie watering the plants on the kitchen windowsill.

“I did what you told me and saw the solicitor. He gave me wonderful advice. I took it and got what I wanted,” she said.

“You should have seen Lionel’s face when I demanded and bargained.

” She put a hand on Mavis’s bony shoulder.

“I was proud of myself, Mavis. I was in the driver’s seat for once. It felt marvellous.”

“So what now? You’ll be moving out soon?”

Ellie refilled her teacup and carried it over to the table. “I expect I will. I lay awake last night trying to think where I’d want to go.”

“You wouldn’t want to go back home, would you? Your mum and dad aren’t still alive, are they?”

“Mercifully no,” Ellie replied. “And if they were, that would be the last place I’d run to. They both enjoyed being negative and critical. And I have no more close family. So I’m not sure where I’ll go. I don’t like London or big cities.”

“What about the seaside?”

Ellie nodded. “You suggested that yesterday, and it might be nice. Although my recent experience of seaside holidays is always the same. We go to a big hotel in Bournemouth or Torquay or Eastbourne, and we take a walk along the promenade, then we have coffee on the glassed-in veranda while Lionel reads the paper or does the crossword. Utterly boring. My idea of the seaside is ...” She paused.

“Yes?”

A wistful smile came over her face. “When I was eighteen, my great-aunt Louisa took me to the Continent. She was Mummy’s aunt, and she’d led a colourful life with various lovers.

A sort of black sheep of the family, I understand now.

” She looked up. “Oh Mavis, we had such fun. We went to Rome and Venice and Florence and Vienna and the French Riviera. Gosh, it was wonderful. We ate fish stew with lots of garlic, and she taught me about wines. And those colours—that deep-blue sea and the pastel buildings and the mountains. It took my breath away.”

“But you never went back since?”

“Aunt Louisa had a heart attack and died the next year,” she said. “And then I married Lionel, and he hates ‘abroad,’ as he puts it. A lot of bloody foreigners wanting money, and dirt and fleas and garlic. That’s how he sees it.”

“You could go back,” Mavis said. “Give yourself a nice long holiday before you decide where you want to live.”

“Back to France?” She toyed with the word, letting it conjure up images—palm trees and cold drinks on a terrace overlooking a blue sea.

“Yeah. Why not? Only yourself to please now, ain’t there? About time you did something nice for yourself.”

“I suppose I could.” Ellie stared at her, her eyes bright with excitement now. “I really could, couldn’t I?”

“You could take one of them tours.”