AS IT TURNED out, Paul did not contest the divorce petition, so the proceedings went smoothly and there was no call for Jacqui’s ‘cover story’. Paul had been unexpectedly well-behaved now that he was facing up to the inevitable. He had apologised, via his solicitor, for his violent behaviour, and thanked Jacqui for not pressing charges. In return, Jacqui sent Thelma an apology for her unpleasant behaviour in the Reception lobby. Paul had, it seems, moved in with Thelma who lived a few miles away (‘what he sees in her, I can’t imagine’, thought Jacqui—‘but he seems to dote on her’).

It was still some months before Jacqui could obtain her decree nisi, on the grounds of adultery and ‘irretrievable breakdown’. In the meantime, both Thelma and Paul had chucked in their jobs: Thelma, in particular, could no longer stand the mockery and ridicule from her workmates over the ‘flying condom’ episode, and she was the first to propose the move. So they relocated to a town near Notting­ham where Paul could find a position with a different branch of the same company. Thelma hoped, in due course, to find work there too. And they were thinking of getting married, once the decree became absolute.

“It won’t last,” thought Jacqui to herself, cynically.

But it was arranged that although Jacqui would retain custody of Nathan, he would be allowed to spend a weekend with his father once every two weeks—and the arrangement could be varied at any time by mutual consent. Also, Paul waived his option on his share of the family home, provided his maintenance payments were not too onerous.

The arrangement worked smoothly for the next few months. Sometimes Paul drove down to collect Nathan for two successive weekends (“something special,” was all he’d say by way of explanation), but Jacqui was content. As long as he brought back Nathan promptly on Sunday night (however late in the evening), she was content.

She had Nathan, now six years old, to look after on her own, and was slowly getting accustomed to single-parenthood. Helen called in from time to time when she was off-duty, to lend a hand, and never failed to bring a small present for Nathan. Jacqui and Helen had quickly become fast friends. There had still been the occasional visit to Wistbourne: once she had even taken Nathan along: Helen promising to take care of him in the army camp while Jacqui visited the Sous. As usual, there were no developments, though the Sous always seemed to show pleasure at Jacqui’s arrival—if it was pleasure… Nathan, of course, was thrilled at the helicopter ride and spending the day with ‘Auntie Helen and all the soljers’. He told his schoolfriends about his adventure afterwards, and even wrote a little essay in his best handwriting. What the teachers made of it, Jacqui couldn’t imagine.

Outside of Wistbourne, and a world away from the affairs of the Sous and their kin, things were generally getting more and more grim. Now approaching the 2030s, Earth had not fared well under Climate Change. There was much public acrimony at the incessant flooding in between horrific heatwaves and wildfires. Many violent protests against Government inaction and food shortages had taken place, with fatalities amongst both protesters and police officers. Not a week passed without yet another report of serious flooding somewhere in the UK: in the worst incident, in and around Gloucester, fifty-one people had been killed. And at other times the heatwaves were almost unendurable, with temperatures exceeding 43ºC in the South of England. The climatologists and other experts had declared that Earth had passed the ‘tipping-point’ beyond which Climate Change was irreversible: it was now predicted that the global temperature was set to rise by 10ºC and much of Earth would become desert or even uninhabitable. Already much of sub-Saharan Africa was affected, likewise the Amazon basin and areas of the United States, Canada, and China.

It was not a world in which Jacqui would have wanted to bring up Nathan: the prospects for his future looked wretched. She could only hope for the best.

In the meantime, she was continuing her work in relative comfort in the air-conditioned offices of the Mercury, which was now published on-line only. She got along well with her colleague Adam, now fully-versed in the art of writing for a local newspaper.

And Adam was showing an interest in her. She could tell. He was always the perfect gentleman with her: never any suggestive remarks or gestures. But she had noticed him stealing a glance at her from time to time. She wondered how she really felt about this. He was clearly quite a lot older than she was, but not unattractive. And in spite of Helen’s frequent visits, she was sometimes lonely…

She asked Adam about his personal life. Adam was quite forth­coming. He said that he had been divorced for about ten years, and had two grown-up daughters. He lived alone, and no, he didn’t have a partner at present.

Jacqui decided to put it to the test. One morning she dressed in her shortest skirt—one she hadn’t worn for several years, but luckily it still fitted. She also put on a top with a certain amount of décollet­age, and took more care than usual over her make-up. Mustn’t overdo it, she thought: she didn’t want to be another Thelma. The effect was electric. As she entered the office and sat down, she could see Adam stealing more glances than ever at her. He did his best to conceal his emotions, but she noticed that he was not concentrating well on his work, that day.

Enough, thought Jacqui. And she was secretly pleased. She now felt a strong attraction towards him.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

A few days later, more soberly dressed, she asked Adam, would he like to come to dinner at her place, and meet Nathan? Adam readily accepted. And so a date was fixed.

A few evenings later Adam turned up in a smart suit, looking rather shy and old-fashioned, bearing a box of chocolates for Nathan, and bunch of flowers and a bottle of wine for Jacqui. This was the only awkward moment, when Jacqui explained, with some embarrassment, that she didn’t drink alcohol. But Adam passed over the matter lightly: he said, not to worry, he would drink some of the wine himself but take the rest home, and that if and when he returned the favour at his place, there would be fruit juice on the table. He was very taken with Nathan, who had been allowed to stay up past his usual bed-time, and was the ideal person to ‘break the ice’. They spent a happy hour together on the carpet playing with Nathan’s toys, before Nathan was eventually put to bed.

At dinner Adam was not slow to compliment Jacqui on her excellent vegetarian cuisine. He drank only one small glass of the wine he’d brought, but sampled some of Jacqui’s home-made fruit drink, and pronounced it superb. Jacqui was wondering whether to press on him another glass of wine, but decided: better not. After all, he’s got to drive home afterwards.

Perhaps.

After dinner they sat on the settee sharing stories of themselves. Adam had a lot to say about his earlier life, including the time when he had first come to Britain with his parents as a small child—but Jacqui noticed that he made barely a mention of his ex-wife. Most of his account was of his two daughters: their childhood, their teenage years, their boyfriends. Also, his work before he joined the Mercury. Jacqui, in return, gave an account of her time with Grandad, and his career as a Sci-fi writer. Adam had heard of him, but confessed that Science fiction wasn’t really his métier. Nevertheless, they appeared to have plenty in common. Both commented despondently on the state of affairs worldwide, Adam muttering ruefully that he was getting on in years and wouldn’t live to see the worst of it. At which remark Jacqui protested vehemently: of course you’re not ‘old’!

All this time they had been edging closer and and closer to one another, until their legs and hips were touching. Jacqui crossed her legs, letting the hem of her skirt ride up, and saw his reaction. She leaned over and kissed him, first on the cheek, then on the forehead, then on the lips…

She took his hand and guided it inside her blouse, under her bra. She luxuriated for a minute or two in the thrilling sensation of his gentle fingers stroking her skin, exploring the softness of her breast. How eagerly she wanted him now! She kissed him again, fervently. Then she stood up, took hold of his hands, and glanced at the stairs. “Adam, darling, can I be your Eve? Please…!”

*

Adam would not move in with Jacqui: he was adamant about that. Jacqui was content: their nights of passion were delightful, whether in her house or, when Nathan was at Paul’s for the weekend, at his flat. And Nathan had taken a real liking to ‘Uncle Adam’ and was thrilled every time he came over. But both Jacqui and Adam agreed that between the two of them it was too much of a mismatch: it was fun while it lasted, but in time they would go their separate ways. Besides, any permanent liaison would affect the modest maintenance payments which Paul was still sending.

And Jacqui still dared not tell Adam about Wistbourne. Since she had started dating Adam, she had not been summoned to Wistbourne, and secretly hoped that maybe that was the end of things. She intro­duced Adam to Helen when she next called, describing her as an ‘old friend’: Helen—who had recently gained promotion to Major—never wore her uniform on these visits, of course.

Nathan’s trips to Nottingham became more frequent. Paul pleaded to have him three weekends out of four, and after a while Jacqui acquiesced. She told Paul that she had a boyfriend, and Paul didn’t seem bothered about that. And he was reliable about bringing Nathan home on Sundays, usually around 10pm, which was late for Nathan’s bedtime of course, but Jacqui could tolerate that.

Until one Sunday when they didn’t turn up. Nathan was nearly eight by now. There had, yet again, been severe flooding in the River Trent area, so commonplace now that it was scarcely reported on the News. Perhaps Paul had been held up by the floods, so Jacqui wasn’t unduly worried. But by 11pm she was getting concerned. She tried ringing their flat, but there was no answer. And Paul’s mobile appeared to be switched off. After midnight, and still no news, Jacqui was by now frantic. She tried phoning the Nottinghamshire police, but the line was busy. She looked up some hospitals in the area and phoned them: they said there had been casualties in the flooding but they could give no details.

It was nearly 2am when a police car drew up outside the house, and by now Jacqui feared the worst. When she answered the door to two officers, a man and a woman, one glance at their faces told her all. Shaking all over, she stammered to them to come in and sit down. The officers glanced at each other and then the woman began.

Paul had presumably set out along the motorway, but the road was heavily congested and in several stretches progress was barely at a crawl due to sheets of flood water. So he must have turned off and tried to make his way along minor roads. At one point on a country lane, his way was partly blocked by a police car, and he was flagged down. He explained that he was trying to make it to London, and the policeman told him there was no chance, and he had best turn back. But Paul insisted on pressing on. A little further he came to a place where the road was inundated by a small river, normally little more than a stream, which was now a raging torrent and had swept away the bridge taking the road over it. Stupidly Paul must have tried to ford the stream. He had lost control of the car, which had been swept downstream, overturned and submerged.

It was half an hour before Fire and Rescue services were able to force a way into the car. Paul was pronounced dead at the scene, after all attempts to resuscitate him had failed. Nathan was alive—but barely. He had been flown to hospital by air ambulance and was now on life support: his brain had been deprived of oxygen for nearly twenty minutes. It was too early to say whether he would survive—or if so, whether he would be permanently brain-damaged.