This isn’t just a warning for young men. The truth is that we can all be overcome by a sense of service, a feeling that we ought to do the right thing. If you think about it what could be more ridiculous? How can you possibly be always trying to do the right thing when so many individuals have so many different ideas about morals and scruples? Perhaps the reason for caution in life is so that others don’t cross our paths and cause us too much damage. No one should have to suffer like poor old Mr. Love. Perhaps the funniest thing about Mr. Love’s notions of service was the fact that to us gods he seemed to be displaying such hubris and thus deserved to meet his downfall with gratitude. He was a man who had settled into a rut and mightily displeased Destiny; in turn she had unleashed the furies. Ah! The arrogance of complacency. Now read carefully and let’s hope that you can avoid making the same mistakes!

Mr. Colin Love was born in a suburb of Leicester; it doesn’t matter exactly where, but more how he was affected by this. From his father he learnt the ‘value’ of hard work and keeping a steady job; and in his mother he saw the compliance that he would expect in women throughout his life. Mr. Love wanted to be respected in his job, and took great satisfaction that the children he had taught were better equipped for success in life. Good old success: for Mr. Love this meant a steady ship, everyone doing the right thing. It was a shame really because he had been a promising soccer player in his youth; at 18 he reached a crucial juncture where he was offered professional terms with Birmingham City, but he chose the option of teacher-training as it offered steady employment.

Maybe a lesser man would have experienced regrets if they had rejected the opportunity to make easy money out of soccer but Mr. Love wasn’t too worried about his decision. Neither did he worry about his wife’s loyalty, nor family backing in every matter that he brought to them. It’s cruel really: the way fate has a habit of making such important things happen behind one’s back.

This particular day Mr. Love was wiping the mess left by a bird on his car bonnet. He was thinking about how he would have to have a word with his wayward son about using the garage. This turned his thoughts to the numerous students to whom he would have to speak in the school day. First of all, he thought that he would have to have a go at that girl (he could never remember her name) about her uniform. He started his car and drove down his gravel drive to work.

He was not to know Kylie Sislewick’s family background. He didn’t know that she had been up since 4:00am feeding her younger brothers and sisters and getting them ready for school. Why should he? Well, young Kylie was walking to school and smoking a cigarette to help her to stay awake and who should be driving past?

’Come here girl!’ His voice was gruff and unkind. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

Kylie had a thick local dialect, made stronger by her tiredness.

‘Fuck off.’ She turned to look at the car and her mouth formed a shocked O shape as she realised who it was!

This did not deter Mr. Love from his moaning. ‘I’ll see you by my office when you get to school Miss ... erm!’ He wound up his car window as the lights changed to green. ‘Bloody kids! No respect!’ He muttered under his breath as he drove into the misty morning. Mr. Love parked his car at the front of the school and then walked into the main reception.

‘Ah. Good morning Mary.’ Such a sweet smile for Mary!

‘Oh. Good morning Mr. Love! Can I get you a cup of coffee?’ She seemed surprised to see him even though this was the same routine that they followed every day. Her voice softened from professional secretary to spurned love.

‘Have you thought about the things I said in the letter?’

‘Er. No, no. Mary, I’ve got to say I haven’t read it yet! I just haven’t had the time. I’m sorry.’ He looked away from her disappointment; there was a short silence.

‘Er. Is that coffee ready yet?’

‘Yes I know. You’ve got so much to do.’ She smiled, back in professional secretary mode again, and he did not notice the tear in her eye.

‘Milk and one sugar.’

‘Thank you Mary. You are a wonderful woman.’ He grinned and walked off to his office.

Inside his office he thought that there was a strange feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that something was going to go wrong. I urge you dear reader to pay attention to such feelings; we do not send them for no reason. Love patted his hair, still no bald patch then; that was down to moderate living. He regretted his stomach, which was due to excessive grazing! Hmmm! What could be wrong? The lessons for the day were familiar and would be inside his daily planner in the top right hand drawer of his desk. After school there was a Department meeting, and the agenda had been fixed for that. Of course he would have to have a word about being too familiar with the students again. His department was inexperienced and did not bother about uniform and marking, just not thorough enough! As he retrieved his planner a piece of paper fell to the floor; it was a memorandum form the Head. That must be it! He was pleased that he had averted disaster! He rushed down to the photocopying room; that report was very important!

What was it I was saying about things unfolding behind your back? Oh yes, how we can be unaware about the affect of other people’s actions!

James Love was driving his car to work. He was glad that he had put his car in the garage as it meant that it wasn’t slow to start in the autumn mist. He was regretting his night out though! God! He must have had about eight pints, not mentioning the chemicals and shots of spirits! His head thumped like a nail being bashed into a brick wall. He started his car and set off to work, not knowing that he was going to be the starting point of his father’s downfall. That’s the point I suppose, whether it started with the accident or whether it had its roots in the deeper past. I mean, if Mr. Love hadn’t been the perfectionist father would James have been such an arrogant fool? James knew his dad would help him get out of any trouble; mainly because he was so keen for the family to maintain its good name. His father always used to say: ‘We’re respected around here.’ James was lost in his thoughts as he sped away from the house.

Meanwhile his father was delivering an assembly to the bored Year 11s at William Gibson Community College.

‘Now the main theme for my assembly is the rules and doing the right thing. I want you all to listen carefully. Pay attention. We have been back for a few weeks now and as I have walked around it has occurred to me that many of you aren’t wearing the correct uniform. In addition to that I caught one young lady walking to school smoking! Smoking a cigarette! Smoking in the incorrect school uniform! I ask you: is there any greater disrespect? Well yes!’

He stopped to survey the students. A silence reigned for thirty seconds in the assembly hall.

‘Yesterday I was walking around the school on call. Something I don’t have the time to do as a busy Head of Department and a Senior Teacher. I found several pupils had been chucked out of their classes and I asked them why.

“Why have you been chucked out?” I say. “Mucking about.” They say. “Why?” I say. “It was boring.” They say. Boring! I’ll give you lot boring. We’re going to have a uniform check when you leave the room and everyone in the incorrect uniform is staying with me. I’ve got a free period! I’ve asked all your teachers to provide a list of troublemakers and I’m going to ask for them tomorrow! So you’d better be good today! There’ll be no smoking, and no mucking about, and no being bored, and no being out of uniform!’

He stopped abruptly and spoke to the Head of Year before briefly announcing: ‘And now over to Mrs. Brumley.’

It was never going to be that simple. There are never simple sweeping explanations or solutions in any circumstance. Poor old Mr. Love! As he stepped briskly to the back of the assembly hall, as Mrs. Brumley droned on about something or other, Mary walked in. She whispered to him.

‘Oh Mr. Love. There’s an urgent telephone call for you in the office. It’s something to do with James!’

He stalked through the corridor to the office and spoke to the other secretaries, Mary scuttled along behind him.

‘Apparently I have an urgent phone call?’

‘Oh yes! Here you are Mr. Love!’ One of the younger secretaries handed him the telephone receiver from her desk.

‘Hello. Colin Love speaking. How can I help you?’

‘Ah. Hello Love. Jenkins here. I’m wondering if you can get a bit of time off work?’

Why was his lawyer on the line, poor Colin Love wondered?

‘Why?’

‘It’s a bit awkward. James might be in serious trouble and we can’t get hold of Sue, it seems she hasn’t turned up for work today.’
Colin’s head began to thump. He wondered if he should have paid more attention to the ominous feeling that he had had at the start of the day.

*

Jenkins had informed him that James had caused a fatal accident that morning; he had been kept in hospital but would be charged with several motoring offences. James had called from the hospital requesting that Colin went to visit him. The greatly respected Mr. Love had been allowed to leave the school and was anxious to speak to his wife about their errant knave of a son. He was trying to use his mobile phone but still hadn’t learnt to dial numbers properly. As he tried to concentrate in his driving he threw it on the floor in disgust. ‘Where is she?’ He drove quickly to the hospital, nearly causing several minor collisions on his journey.

James was lying in bed sobbing and Jenkins was trying to reassure him. Colin did not really want to interrupt but he had a few things to say to his son.

‘Mr. Jenkins.’ Colin nodded at his Sunday-golf partner. ‘James.’ He breathed tersely and loudly.

‘What have you been up to then son? Eh?’

James turned his head on the plump white hospital pillow; he looked at his father with a vacant gaze and began to cry.

‘He’s been breathalysed and he was 20mg. over the legal limit, and that’s the morning after! In addition to that the girl he ran over was pronounced dead on her arrival at the hospital! She was from your school by the way. Oh, and it seems from the skid marks on the road that he was definitely speeding.’

For a moment Mr. Colin Love recoiled into his thoughts; he brushed his hair with his hands in an effort to seem in control. His mind was a whirling vortex of thoughts and questions: Where was Mary? How could James be such an idiot? He wondered if Sarah had done anything stupid or gone missing. She was usually a good girl; how had she turned out so well, when James was such a rebel?

‘So Colin, what shall we do?’ Jenkins seemed to be enjoying this; an unpleasant gloat spread from cheek to cheek.

Mr. Love ignored the lawyer and spoke to his son. ‘Why did you have to get him involved? You could have rung me at work or mum! Or your sister! Why were you drunk anyway? And why did you have to run a kid over from my school? We’ll never live this down. Why were you driving like an idiot? Uh?’

His son still fixed him with that constant gaze, tears running down his cheeks.

‘You’re never there. I couldn’t have rung you or mum; work is far too important to you. You have an image to keep up.’

Suddenly enraged further, Colin interrupted: ‘That’s a lie son. All your mother and I have done is worked hard and tried to bring you up the right way. To be decent parents and to get you to make the right decisions and do the right thing!’

Like I have already said, these are difficult claims to substantiate. James felt aggrieved and shouted at his father.

‘ALL YOU CARE ABOUT IS THE RIGHT BLOODY THING, OR THE CORRECT WAY, WHICH ALWAYS HAPPENS TO BE YOUR WAY!, DON’T YOU DARE INTERRUPT ME! YOU’RE SO PIGHEADED THAT YOU CAN’T SEE ANYTHING ELSE, ANYTHING OUTSIDE YOUR BORING LITTLE PERFECT LIFE!’

His shouting had aroused the attentions of the hospital staff, who requested that Jenkins and Mr. Love leave for a while as the Police were coming back later to ask some more questions. The two men left the hospital and Jenkins offered Love a cheap mass-produced cigar.
‘You know I’ve never smoked Alex. I’ve got to go and see what’s up with Sue. I’ll phone you later.’ And with that he strode towards his car.
Jenkins muttered: ‘Good Luck!’

But it was too late. Luck had nothing to do with events anymore. Through countless years of mediocrity and inanely made decisions Love had come to deserve his fate. For those of you who don’t understand yet: you were not made to live like dullards and to be prissy pedants - you were made to strive for poetic zeniths. It was going to be a pretty spectacular downfall; we’re talking Narcissus here, rather than some wishy-washy celestial telling off!

By the time he arrived at his home Colin Love had started to panic about the school. He wondered if they were coping without him but never once did he wonder whether he was coping: the furies were waiting; they had only toyed with Love so far. Mutter, mutter: Colin opened the door and was surprised to see signs of life in his home. He cautiously called up the stairs: ‘Is anybody there?’ There was no reply, but the strong smell of coffee and the lingering smoke from a cigarette increased his suspicion that he was not alone.

He briefly remembered his mother in law, but she couldn’t be back; they had packed her off to a nursing home in the summer. Mad old witch. As he climbed the stairs towards his bedroom his musings were dispelled rapidly. The door was open and the bed was unmade; lying on the mattress was a huge black rubber dildo.

We Gods have never been bothered by sex but dear old Mr. Love was mortified; he picked up the offending phallus and stared at it. It was priceless: his face had turned an ashen grey colour and his heavy breathing led him to splutter.

‘Sue! SUE!’

There was a sound of movement coming from the bathroom. He thundered through the door. Sue was towelling herself down whilst a young man sitting on the edge of the bath lit a cigarette. He stood in the doorway; a pain had begun to spread down his left arm and he could not speak. Instead he just gawped. The man was staring at his wife’s body too as she slowly wrapped her dressing gown around her damp body. Love hadn’t seen his wife naked for a year or two and had forgotten how arousing her body was; the young man clearly had not forgotten a thing. He arose and dropped his towel on the bathroom floor. As he reached for Colin’s dressing gown he spoke dismissively: ‘Is this your husband then?’

Sue looked ashamed. ‘Yes.’

‘Didn’t you used to teach me woodwork?’ The man spoke directly to Colin who was still struggling to speak.

At last the words came: ‘Billy Mitchell! My wife!’ He pointed towards the bedroom. ‘That thing on the bed! What were you doing with that thing?’

The man spoke again: ‘Get over it granddad. She’s bored. We like to have a bit of spice don’t we babe?’

Sue smiled at her lover, and then spoke to her husband. ‘Sorry Colin. I needed a release and I wasn’t likely to get one from you. You were always playing golf, or working.’

‘But why?’

Exasperated she spoke as Colin slumped into a sitting position on the floor. The young man left the room.

‘Because I get fed up trying to be the perfect wife, and keeping up appearances! Because I get fed up being married to a self-important, arrogant, insensitive, boring, prat. That’s why! A moaning, groaning, delusional fool who thinks that he can do no wrong. A man who thinks that he needs to interfere in everything and yet never asks what’s going on. You think communication means telling people why you’re right. I doubt you listen to anyone. If you do, you just ignore their feelings and opinions.’

‘But we’re…’

‘Yes, yes. A respectable family. We’re valued in the community! In case you hadn’t noticed there is no community. How long are you going to delude yourself? Sarah’s pregnant, James is completely wild, and I’m being fucked by one of your former pupils! And do you know what? It’s good! I like it! I feel happy and wanted, and sexy!’

Colin Love had nothing to say. His mouth was dry and his thoughts turned to the Gods at last. He was pleading ‘Why me?’ We didn’t ignore him; we had now devoted our full attention to him. Of course he was lacking in perception and ignored our attempts to contact him. Dream after dream! Feelings of dèja vu! For heaven’s sake, he had dreamt this only a month ago in explicit technicolour! We had revealed all of the signs; strangers had spoken ominous words. There had been warnings from the birds, from the weather and from his soul. You must understand that in the face of such ignorance we had to make Love’s tumble dramatic.

Love ran out of his house, got into his car and drove to Mary’s house. By now it was 13:25: time for lunch. She only worked part time and he knew that her husband was away driving a lorry in France. She always had kind words for him! He thought that Mary would lend her support to him.

*

He drove his car right into Mary’s drive; her car was not there and he had a few moments to reflect on the events of the morning. But, alas, he chose instead to read her letter. What an inopportune moment! He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the white envelope. He opened and read carefully.

Dear Colin,

I know that you will think that I am foolish and impetuous for writing to you but my heart has been heavy for years with this burden. You know that I am an admirer of yours and that I have been for many years. I’ve always respected you; even after that incident at the Christmas do all those years back. I thought that I meant something to you but perhaps you weren’t aware of the extent of my feelings. I’m going to leave Nigel and I want you to know that I am waiting for you, as I have been for the last 7 years. I love you Colin.

‘Oh God.’ He groaned, as a car pulled up behind him.

It was Mary. She had a bemused look across her face and she tapped on his car window. As he unwound it, she spoke: ‘Well, well. Here’s a moment I never expected. You’ve read my letter then?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, why don’t you come in?’
Colin Love could not resist; it was to be a meeting with his nemesis. They walked into the hallway and Mary offered him a cup of instant-coffee.

‘Yes.’

‘Well do sit down. I shan’t be a second.’
He slumped heavily into an armchair, dislodging a doily from its arm. Usually he was obsessive about tidiness but he was immersed in self pity and left it crumpled on the floor. When Mary entered the room with the coffee, she stopped at his knees and picked up the doily.

‘Now, now Mr. Love. That’s not like you!’ She purred seductively. He noticed that she had undone several buttons on her blouse.

‘You seem like a man with a lot on your mind! Let me help you to relax!’ She sat on the chair opposite jigging her legs; her skirt had risen above her knees.

‘Oh God this is terrible!’ He cried like a wailing baby.

‘There there!’ said Mary as she got up and came to sit at his feet. ‘Many people think I’m a bit of a shy woman but I’m not really Colin. I’m very open minded.’ He could see her brassiere and looked lustfully. Her hand lingered on the trouser leg of his polyester suit. Age had had its affect on her and she tried to cover her perceived blemishes with a thick coating of foundation. Unfortunately she was over made-up and her real beauty was hidden; many of her colleagues perceived her as a naïve, straight-laced bore but she had decided to take control of her life for the first time. Oh well, better late than never.

Colin had suspected that Mary admired him and had enjoyed the perks of her devotion for many years. It had started with a hand-job in the cupboard at work; then it continued sporadically over a seven year span. The odd grope here, a cup of coffee every morning, typing reports and schemes of work, staying behind to prepare for parent’s evenings: he had taken a lot but never given back. A selfish man’s prerogative? He did not like his wife acting the same way. Still, he was swelled with greed and hungry to escape from the mess of the day. It’s never that easy though is it? I approve of allowing one to react according to one’s emotions, but not everyone is an immortal.

Mr. Love’s lust was something that he was careful to hide. Like most men he realised that his emotions were easily stirred and was, as a consequence, brutal in his repression. It was to his despair that he succumbed to his lust; unthinkingly he began to unzip his trousers. Mary had begun to remove her clothes too; mechanically they rubbed bodies. Let me be quite clear here; it was amusing only in its grotesque irony. It has always amazed me that the mortals never took care of their psyche, let alone the soma. Dear old Mr. Love; he couldn’t quite live up to his name, and he ejaculated messily on Mary’s thighs. Men should not scorn the needs of women for ineptitude can breed dissatisfaction. Mary couldn’t help being disappointed, and with her new found courage she tore into poor Colin.

‘Is that it? After all those years of letting you use me and that’s it!’ The final tempest was brewing. ‘I’ve sucked your penis, and stroked it, you’ve groped me and made all of those lewd remarks and yet you’re done in two seconds! Is that efficiency? You’ve not crossed my Ts yet, nor dotted my Is! I thought you were a real man. A strong caring type! IS THAT IT? ARE YOU ALWAYS SUCH A LET DOWN?’

She had taken the words right out of my mouth. Colin meekly tried to explain but the pain had started to course from his weak heart.

‘I did my best.’

‘YOU DID YOUR BEST! MY NIGEL CAN LAST LONGER THAN THAT AND HE’S AN IGNORANT OAF! YOU’RE NOT THE ONLY ONE WITH NEEDS YOU KNOW!’

‘But I ...’

She was standing over the pathetic figure of Colin Love.

‘No wonder everyone hates you. You have such foolish standards that you can’t even hope to keep yourself. I pity you and your poor family. I pity myself for faffing around you and being deceived by your words. Sitting in your ivory tower, you’re nothing!’

Colin gasped and began to convulse on the floor. Mary turned with poetic distaste and strode to the kitchen. She found her husband’s bottle of Single Malt Whiskey and took a long slug of the warming drink.

‘Aah.’ She smacked her lips. ‘That’s justice.’ She called for an ambulance and began to rearrange her clothing.

Poor old Mr. Love! The ambulance men took him away with his trousers around his ankles and a rather chastened look on his face. Of course it didn’t stop there: the repercussions lasted for some time; they always do when fury is unleashed. Mary sweetly carried on at William Gibson Community College where Mr. Love’s reputation was soon forgotten. He was only remembered for having a heart attack during an act of adultery; of course he had another heart attack which let to a prolonged stay in hospital. Whilst he was languishing the rest of the Loves lived life. Susan was less heavily punished for her adultery; I have always enjoyed the thrill of the hunt myself and I enjoy the sight of passionate love: she and Billy became parents. Sarah enjoyed swapping childbirth tales with her mother whilst James served his time in prison. He would get one more chance of course.

All I really wish to say is don’t neglect the signs. It is never wise to be complacent, nor is it
sensible to become proud. If one is cautious like a hunter then the virtue of patience becomes clear. It is never wise to rush any move, but after thought comes action. Hesitation can mean only so many missed chances.

Mr. Love remained immersed in his thoughts in the hospital; the purgatory punctuated only by the heart monitor’s electronic pips. He had plenty of time for regret now; catharsis is a lonely place.