PUTTY IN MY STEP MOTHER’S HANDS
I hadn’t been eighteen for long when my mother died. Cancer. And it took us all by surprise at the sheer speed at which it invaded her body, literally within weeks of the disease being diagnosed, she was dead. Just like that. To say it shook my father and I to the core would be the complete understatement of the Century.
But, after a respectful period of mourning, life had to go on. Dad resumed his full duties running, very successfully it must be said, the company he owned, whilst I went off to university, to study for a degree. And then about a year later, something happened that put a massive smile on dad’s face, in fact for the first time since mum had died. He met Cheryl.
My own first meeting with her occurred at the next break of term, Christmas, as it happened, and I was both very pleasantly surprised and delighted when I did so. It was clearly abundant for anybody to see the utterly real positive effect that she had on dad, those two really did gel. It was crystal clear that, despite being nearer to my age than his, that she was full of respect and love for him, I’m sure that there were many who purely saw her as a ‘gold digger,’ dad owned and ran a highly successful business and was very rich. And the thought did cross my mind too, I’ll willingly admit. But very shortly after meeting her, those thoughts soon left my head completely. As I quickly discovered that not only did Cheryl have the utmost respect for him, but she also did for me as well. For instance, she never insisted on me referring to her as ‘mum,’ and was perfectly content at myself addressing her simply by her name, Cheryl.
Although I never said anything whatsoever to either of them, a wry smile did appear on my face when I heard them having full blown sex one day, with neither of them aware that I was in the house, so their bedroom door was open. And it became absolutely clear to me that Cheryl was definitely putting him ‘through it’ alright, although what I didn’t know was that, with his full agreement, she’d tied him securely to the bed! Just what the old ‘fox’ needs and deserves, I commented to myself.
I moved back into the house with them once I graduated from university, starting work at dad’s firm, his trade was electronics, as was my degree. I worked hard, certainly putting in the graft, as he very much appreciated, all of his staff being left in no doubt that I was fully expected to earn my position within the company, which, in all fairness I did. I didn’t expect to, or receive, any special favours, and thus said staff began to respect me in my own right.
This then was the situation when, on that awful Saturday morning, dad drove off in his car, a top of the range Jaguar, to the golf course for a round with some good friends, and never returned. The two traffic Police officers informed me, when bleary eyed after good Friday evening down the pub, I opened the door to them; that I wasn’t the only one who’d drunk heavily the night before. But, whilst I hadn’t attempted to drive however, the person who lost control of their own vehicle and crashed into dad killing him outright, most certainly had. Four times over the limit the Policeman had told me, she, yes it had been a woman, had hardly been able to walk properly let alone drive. Eventually with me distraught, but concealing it to a large extent, the Police officers left me alone. And, then it hit me. I’d have to tell Cheryl! Something I was dreading. I mean what would I say to her? Just like me, her world had now been turned right upside down. And it was up to me to inform her. As you can imagine my stomach turned itself inside out with the prospect. As if I didn’t have my very real own grief to contend with!
If dad had intended to spend much of the day playing golf with his friends, then his wife had sought the company of hers as she partook in some ‘retail therapy.’ Thankfully one of them entered the house with her, and I guess that the look upon my face, together with my own tear-stained eyes told them that something was very wrong indeed.
With no experience at this sort of thing I just blurted it out. “Dad’s dead, Cheryl! The Police have been here, and he’s been slaughtered by a drunk driver.†She immediately dropped to her knees, collapsing into the kind cuddle offered by her good friend, Joanna. Who really rose to the occasion, immediately offering to stay with Cheryl for the night, to my eternal gratitude. Because I now had to go and officially identify the body, which as you can imagine was not a task that I enjoyed at all.
Returning to the house, having ordered a takeaway Chinese for the three of us, not that either Cheryl or I were in the mood to enjoy it, I cuddled my stepmother, and consumed with grief, she kissed me on the lips for the very first time in our lives. Now, I’m sure there was no intent there, and it was only much later when I occurred to me, just how electrifying that kiss, very brief though it had been, had seemed. At this moment of death, it had made me feel so alive. Obviously, I attempted to dismiss the idea, but I simply couldn’t.
Because there’s one thing I need to explain here. Cheryl was just simply, I believe the expression is, ‘drop dead gorgeous.’ Tall, slim with golden hair and bright blue eyes, this woman if she had chosen to, could have been a model right out of the very top drawer.
She was dad’s lady, not mine and I’m being fully truthful when I say I’d never considered her in any way that could be considered carnal, as I fully respected their relationship. As did she, there was never any hint whatsoever that she’d been unfaithful to my father in any manner at all.
For the moment my mind did allow me to dismiss any thoughts towards her, other than support at all, as things needed to be organised. Like a funeral for example. And the business, under the terms of dad’s will I became the owner and boss there. But I was intelligent enough to know that I was nowhere near experienced enough by far to take on that role, so I wisely asked his highest ranked employees for help. And they responded superbly, with their help we steadied the ship, and kept the company going.
Also, according to said will, the house would become mine. But, and I had no problem with this, Cheryl would have the full right to live there, and be granted a generous living allowance out of dad’s estate. Although she would be required to move out if she re-married. However, as we watched dad’s coffin being lowered into the ground, my hand in hers, there was one question that neither dad, nor his very competent solicitor, had considered, but Cheryl had most certainly done so by now. What if the person that she did re-marry was me?
Love to be tied-up