The Other Woman

By Wendy Kremer

Matthew's brother has been killed in a plane crash and Matthew is confronted with accepting, or rejecting, the management of the family company founded by his grandfather. It is a small specialist company with a handful of employees but they'll all lose their jobs and the firm will close if he doesn't take over. On an annual company outing, Kate one of the employees, talks to him about what is at stake and Matthew is encouraged to take on the task even though he knows nothing about operational processes or how the company functions. It means he needs to give up his present job of managing a trust in London, and leave friends and his girlfriend Celia, to move to the small community near the company. It also means a completely different kind of lifestyle. Celia doesn't understand his decision and doesn't want him to ignore his London activities; she doesn't want him to walk away from her. Eventually a weekend visit to his new home by Celia doesn't go well; she can't imagine being 'buried in the countryside'. Celia shows that she doesn't want to lose him but Matthew is perplexed and shocked when he notes that Celia always seems to bury any frustrations in excessive amounts of alcohol. When he realizes his feelings do not go deep enough and never have and that his life-aims have changed, he breaks with Celia during a phone call. With a bad conscious he dashes to her to explain personally but finds her drunk and unmanageable. He copes with the help of her friend and next day Matthew contacts Celia's father to suggest that he should arrange some therapy for Celia before it's too late. Matthew discovers he's become increasingly involved with local happenings and has never felt better. He only wishes he could persuade Kate to give him a chance. Kate doesn't know that he is free, and although she realizes she is in love with him, she decides she must reject any advances – there is Celia, and perhaps other women in his life in London; or so she thinks. All appears to be lost between them but that's when both mothers, of Kate and Matthew, join forces to devise a plan. Will their efforts for these star-crossed lovers pay-off?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wendy Kremer
• Release date: Dec 11, 2023

Wendy Kremer

Wendy was born in the Welsh Valleys in the UK, and is a loyal, steadfast, Welsh woman wherever she happens to be. She now lives in Europe, and also lived in Africa once - for five years. She's traveled widely and worked in the fields of teaching, translating and publishing. She is author of novellas, pocket novels, short stories, a hardback and serials. Her work has been published in the UK, Germany, Sweden and in Norway. She's married with two children and her hobbies include dancing, gardening, playing bowls, and learning French. Wendy loves hearing from any readers of any of her stories.

Book preview

THE OTHER WOMAN

BY

Wendy Kremer

Love isn't something you find. Love is something that finds you. – Loretta Young

CHAPTER 1

The coach was filling up fast.

Mr. Wilson, the head print technician, was outside with a list in his hand. He'd suggested that Matthew take the seat directly behind the driver. Matthew did so, and made himself comfortable. He almost wished he hadn't capitulated and agreed to come. People continued to get in, pass by, and glance at him furtively as they did so.

When Kate got in, she looked down the aisle and gave him a polite smile. There were no more free seats. The bus is jam-packed. Do you mind if I join you? She noted a resemblance to his brother. The same kind of square face and dark eyes. His thick dark brown hair tapered neatly to the collar of his soft leather jacket.

He looked up and studied her briefly. She was rather pretty; with grey expressive eyes and shoulder-length brown hair framing a quiet oval face. He'd hoped to be on his own and he hope she wasn't a chatterbox. No of course not. He folded his long legs to the side to make more room. He looked to the rear of the bus briefly. Yes. It's chock-a-block.

Kate pushed her bag under the seat and sat down gratefully. Mr Wilson just said some people decided to come at the last minute and filled the last seats.

Matthew nodded and wondered egoistically if that was because they wanted to give him the once over. He said politely. Let’s hope the trip will be worth their while.

Wilson got in, and nodded to the driver. The doors closed and Wilson went down the aisle, counting as he went. He came back and nodded. Let's go!

The driver turned the key and the engine sprang to life.

Matthew looked unseeingly as the bus drove out of the factory yard, through the village, past the ancient Norman church, and along country roads, until it joined the motorway. He was only aware of passing shapeless greens and greys, because he was deep in thought. Just weeks ago he'd had an interesting job and doing work that he enjoyed. He also had a girlfriend who his male friends envied, and a small inner-city flat.

Celia was intelligent, beautiful, and clever. They had similar tastes in lots of ways. They enjoyed the theatre, were active members of the National Trust, and liked visiting antique fairs and car-boot sales. One characteristic he didn't like was her waspish tongue. Her job, as assistant to the director of a big city bank, meant she was used to ordering everyone else around. She was often surprised when he quietly intervened and asked her to be more considerate. They still clashed occasionally over personal matters because they were both strong-minded, but she was solicitous and more careful with him because he was good-looking and she considered him to be an ideal partner.

Celia also enjoyed being hostess, and clubbing regularly in exclusive circles; something he could have done without. He thought such get-togethers with the same people all the time were pointless. They were nearly always people who loved themselves, were from the same background, and with plenty of money to make up for any recognizable shortcomings. He often found the empty chit-chat was a waste of time and yearned for more thought-provoking topics. The only compensation was that the food was generally very good.

His brain warned him that their relationship wasn't all it should be. Other men he knew all agreed that love was an amazing, incomprehensible, and fantastic feeling. He knew friends who'd changed overnight from being veritable Lotharios into biddable and dutiful fiancés. It bothered him that he didn't feel that kind of thrill or exhilaration with Celia. He knew she was happy enough with him, she'd have left long ago if she wasn't. But …was it enough?

She wasn't at ease with his family either; an extra hurdle. The last time he'd taken her home, when David was still alive, the atmosphere was strained. His Mum was a warm, comfortable woman, who came from a farming family. Celia's father was a landowner and property investor, and her mother a local politician. His mother and Celia were like chalk and cheese. Celia had attended an exclusive school in Switzerland before capturing a plum job in the city. Topics of conversation between the two women were often forced, even though both of them tried hard.

Celia's parents referred to her as 'their little princess' and treated her like one. They encouraged her professional ambitions – and insisted the only way up was to be single-minded, have the right connections, and be tenacious; advice that only increased Celia's callous attitude. Probably they themselves had got where they were today in the same way. Surprisingly, they approved of Matthew even though they knew his career was never going to be extraordinary or dazzling. Matthew hoped all irritations would magically disappear when he and Celia knew each other better.

His small flat was in a converted Edwardian house in Battersea Park Road and he had a small, but congenial circle of friends, mostly from his student days. Everything seemed to be dandy and his life was flowing nicely until David's sudden death, and that coming only a few years after his father's fatal heart attack.

He and David had gone to local schools, and then to university. David returned willingly to help run the family business. After getting his PhD in Art History at the University of Sussex, he'd found himself an interesting well-paid job in London. He was in charge of a collection of good paintings and sculptures amassed in an impressive town mansion by a rich aristocrat long ago.

Wilson's voice brought his attention back to the present. He pushed his personal complications aside; he had other more pressing problems to solve at present. His reflections about Celia would also have to wait.

Wilson rested his hand on the back of the seat. I wondered if this might be a suitable moment for you to say a word or two Mr Sinclair?

Matthew hadn’t reckoned with making a speech. He thought it would be enough to just tag along for the day, and he'd only done that to please his mother. Matthew resigned himself to the inevitable and got up. He knocked the book from his neighbour's lap in the process. He picked it up and handed it to her with a reassuring smile. Wilson gave him the microphone.

Looking down the length of the bus, he faced a sea of curious faces. He didn't know what to say, or what they expected of him.

Good morning everyone. The majority of you don't know me, but I know that most of you worked for my father, and also for my brother David; so it's clear the company has very loyal employees. He noted some sympathetic nods. He cleared his throat. Despite my brother's death, the family thought this annual outing should go ahead as usual. My thanks to Mr Wilson for organizing it all so splendidly and the weather looks good, so there is no reason why we shouldn't enjoy Brighton today. Let's hope the sun shines and that we'll all benefit from a pleasant change of scenery for a day. He added. On behalf of my mother, I also want to thank you for all your gestures of sympathy. She found it very heartening. He handed the microphone back to Mr Wilson and it was a signal for a round of soft applause. He sat down again.

David was already sharing responsibility when his father died, so his takeover had been very smooth. David had run it very efficiently since then, but that ended eight weeks ago when the plane he was on overshot the runway on some god-forsaken provincial airport in Croatia during a stop-off and burst into flames. At first, Matthew didn't think about how the tragedy would affect his own future. Apart from the misery of losing his much loved brother, he now faced an enormous personal decision. He could either carry on with his life as before, or step into his brother shoes, and manage a company that he knew nothing about.

If he didn't, sixty people would lose their jobs and the company, founded by his great-grandfather, would cease to exist. He knew what his mother hoped, even if she insisted vehemently that it was up to him. His father had worked hard to save the firm in times when the majority of his competitors had gone out of business. He'd re-vamped the company to specialize in producing antique or modern high-end specialist wallpaper. At the time it was a daunting task and a big financial gamble, but Dad knew all about wallpaper production, and he had skilled employees. He installed a digital press and later a high-tech scattering machine as well as retaining their traditional print machines, and the company was soon out of danger. Since then, they'd consolidated their position and established a good reputation at home and abroad.

He was grateful that the girl in the neighbouring seat didn't chatter. He didn't bother to make small-talk either, and when the bus finally reached its destination, and she'd left, he reproached himself and thought he should have at least tried to be friendly.

Wilson warned the departing groups and individuals to be back in time for the evening meal. Everyone set off to see the wonders of Brighton. Matthew was relieved no one expected him to join them, although Mr. Wilson and his wife gave him an invitation. He wanted to be on his own. After giving them a cheerful promise to be at the restaurant in plenty of time, he walked away and soon left the hurly-burly. He found a coastal pathway away from the tourist activities. After several minutes of brisk walking and enjoying the fresh air, he left the path and sat down on a convenient boulder well off the trodden pathway. He looked beyond the cliff-edge to the pewter-coloured sea, and noted some obscure barely moving dots in the distance that were probably ships.

He mused about the possibility and foolhardiness of taking over a business that he knew nothing about. When he'd explained the situation to Celia after the funeral, she stated bluntly that he should dump it and focus on his own life. He was tempted to do so, that was the easiest way out. It wasn't that easy. He remembered how tired his father always was whenever he came home in those critical years. He knew nothing about what his father or David did, and only a vague idea about the various printing processes. It hadn't been necessary for him to get involved because until now his future was elsewhere.

He'd miss David badly, he'd been his best friend as well as a brother; there was nothing they wouldn't have done for each other. He was also sure David and his father, would have wanted him to take over. He owed everything to his parents, and to the firm. The firm had paid for his education. He ran his fingers through his hair and continued to stare out to sea.

He sat there and several people passed by giving him curious glances. Frisky salt-laden breezes caressed his face and ruffled his dark hair. A girl approached and the wind flattened her dress against her slender body. She was vaguely familiar and as she came closer he saw it was the girl from the bus.

Kate noticed him too and hesitated for a second before she carried on. When she was close enough to see his expression, she glanced quickly again and thought he looked quite despondent. She felt sorry for him and decided to say something.

Alongside, she smiled reassuringly. It seems we had the same idea; escaping from all the day-visitors and holidaymakers! She began to move off again.

Matthew recalled his intention of being friendlier to her. He stood up and a faint smile touched the corners of his mouth. He patted the boulder beside him. Please don't rush off. Sorry that I wasn't very sociable on the bus, I was busy sorting things out in my mind.

She'd pinned her hair back but the wind was blowing it all over her face. Hesitatingly she stood waiting. I understand perfectly. I bet you never expected to be in this situation did you? It must be awful.

Her expressive grey eyes and candid words reassured him. He nodded. It is. He noticed that she was dressed nicely. Her clothes were tasteful. She didn't wear layers of make-up either. It wasn't necessary because she had beautiful skin and attractive features. Her windblown hair glistened like polished wood.

She said softly, brushing the hair off her face. It must be overwhelming, to suddenly know the company's future depends on what you decide. It's a terribly difficult decision.

He sat down again, and made room for her to sit down next to him. Tell me about the firm. My brother had everything under control. There was never a reason for me to show much interest. Kate sat down, tucking the edges of the skirt under her slender thighs. Matthew asked. By the way, what's your name? What do you do?

Kate Walton. I'm in charge of purchasing and stores.

"And finance?

No, we are a small group of office workers. Morris is the company accountant but he'll help out wherever and whenever there's a holdup somewhere – ordering, settling contracts, PR, personnel problems. He's a bit like an under-manager and was David's right hand man. All the employees are proud of the company and are prepared to do anything at any time to keep things running smoothly.

Matthew noticed her fernlike perfume. The breezes teased him with it, and he decided it was quite pleasant. Celia used some damn expensive French perfume that was quite overwhelming at times. He nodded. Who handles the secretarial side? Matthew felt