Playing Away

I wish to thank Soapin Girl, Dan C and Jalibar62 for their editorial support. In fairness to them, after their input there were still areas where I was unhappy with the story and I have dicked around with it a fair bit. All mistakes, therefore are mine and not a reflection on their good work.

This is a UK based story with a number of UK idioms, so please be understanding if you're not sure what a word or a phrase means here or there.

Nothing controversial with this one. I am the author and do not give permission for this story to be posted somewhere else or put on Youtube with a few words changed!

As ever, comments and feedback appreciated.

Playing Away

Chapter One

'The most beautiful thing we can experience is mystery.'

Tamara Harrison stood in line to scan her passport and shifted her travel case down on the ground. It was a backpack with a telescopic handle enabling it to be pulled on a pair of wheels. She flexed her shoulders, rotating them and enjoying the absence of the bag's weight. The queue wasn't too long. She looked at it with the eye of a seasoned traveller, estimated it'd take five to ten minutes before she was stood waiting for a free machine.

She was tired from her trip. She made the same trip each month. A week in the company plant in Germany, providing support. Occasionally she would travel to other company sites, but the German site was her primary responsibility and she took it seriously. It had been a good week, she'd done everything she needed to at work, no dramas. Tonight, she'd be back with her family, enjoying the happiness her return generated.

After making her way through security, she would grab a taxi to get her home. Her husband, William - had dropped her off on Sunday night. Which wasn't what normally happened. Usually, she drove herself and used the short-term car park for the week. Her company was paying, so she didn't worry too much about the cost. This time William had offered and she wasn't going to say no. It gave her more time with him.

He'd been a bit funny the last month, a bit squirrely and distant from her. Kind of off, but not really doing anything she could call him on. It was discomforting, but between their jobs and being parents, life was busy. It was a nice gesture from him to drive her to the airport. It gave them the chance to chat in the car, to hold the world still for a short while before reality intruded once again. Now she had the pleasure of forty minutes in a taxi before she got to see her family again. Still, it was easier than driving. She could look out the window and get her head back into UK mode before she got home.

She nudged her bag with her foot as the queue shuffled forward, listening with half an ear as a young man explained to his girlfriend how to position her passport so the machine could read it. She smiled, young love, the optimism of youth. Poor buggers, they'd learn.

She made her way through security and out the exit. She had her head down and was tugging her bag behind her, thinking of where the taxi rank was. Trying not to get in anyone's way, when she heard her name called. She paused; it was definitely her name. She looked around, surprised as she wasn't expecting to be met. She didn't recognise her father at first, he was very much out of place and context.

He had a cold, angry look on his face as he walked over to her.

"Good evening, Tamara. Is there any more luggage or is that it?"

"Hey Dad." Tamara said, smiling and moving closer to hug him. "What're you doing here?"

He stepped back so she couldn't hug him. "I'm here to collect you. Do you have any more bags or cases?"

She shook her head, confused at seeing him and his rebuffal. She was surprised seeing him here, there was no plan for him to pick her up. He'd never done that before. He was in his late sixties and lived a farther half hour from the airport than she did.

"No. Dad, is everything OK? Are the kids alright?"

He gave her a curt nod. "As far as I'm aware, they're all fine. Come on, your Mum is waiting for us."

"She came as well? Dad, look, what's going on? I don't understand, why are you here? Why are you picking me up? Is Will all right?"

"We can talk in the car. Come on, the parking here costs an arm and a bloody leg. I don't want to waste my month's pension on it."

He turned and stalked away.

"And why is your damn phone not working? I've been trying to call you all day."

"I don't know. It gave up the ghost this morning. Some kind of problem with the service provider. Will can sort it out tomorrow."

Tamara began to follow, chasing after him quickly to try and catch up. He was a tall man with a military, upright bearing. He was walking too fast for her to both keep up and hold a conversation. She could feel from her father's tone and his words something wasn't right. He looked upset, angry, like he was barely keeping a lid locked down on his temper. His demeanour was so different from the father she normally loved to spend time with.

Her legs were aching by the time they reached the car, parked as it was on the third floor of the multi-storey garage. As they wove through the parked cars, her father striding off in front she wondered what the hell was going on. Her father wasn't happy, was barely talking to her at all. Something was wrong, something had happened. She saw the car and opened the back door. Her mother sat in the passenger seat. She looked tired, her face drawn.

"Hi Mum, what's going on?"

"Get in and belt up." Her father grunted as he sat himself down.

She stood still, thinking, half in, half out of the door.

"No." she said, her voice clear and resolute. "I'll be damned if I'm going anywhere until I understand what's going on."

"Close the door and get your seat belt on. Right now."

Tamara stepped out of the car and closed the door behind her. She didn't know what was going on, but she wasn't a child and wasn't going to be treated like one. She'd get a taxi home like she planned and work things out from there. No more bloody games! She began to walk back towards the stairs.

"Tamara!" Her father called out. He was stood half in the car. The impatience in his voice was evident.

"Save it, Dad," she replied, her voice clear as she turned and looked at him. "I'll get a taxi home."

"No, you won't." her father said. His voice controlled, but with a crispness that suggested barely constrained anger underneath the calm. "William has kicked you out. You're staying with us until you get things sorted. Now get in the bloody car so we can get going."

It was as if the world stopped spinning, like she was outside her body watching as it happened to her. She was struggling to stand. Her legs, strong from exercise and years of use, didn't seem to be able to hold her up. She could feel herself wobble. She could see her father striding towards her and he half caught her. It was an imperfect hold, more of a gentle fall to the ground so she didn't hurt herself.

"Tamara! Come on. Let's get you in the car, let's get going home. We can talk when we get there."

He walked her back to the car, struggling as they moved between the parked cars. Walking her like a newborn foal. The limited space made it hard to walk side by side together. They got her inside the car. She was able to strap herself in as she watched her father climb into the driver's seat and start the car moving.

It was a quiet drive home. Tamara couldn't remember much of it; she wasn't aware of much of it. She heard what her father had said but it didn't really make sense. William, her husband, had kicked her out? She was going to her parent's house, not going home to her own house? She stared in silence out of the window as the world whipped by.

When they got to her parent's house, Tamara walked in and saw the cardboard boxes. All her stuff, her belongings, her life, now in cardboard boxes stacked higgledy-piggledy in her parent's living room. Reality was beginning to sink in. The words heard in the car park were registering. Her husband, the father of her children, the man she'd been married to for over twenty years had kicked her out of their house and she was now here, living with her parents.

It made sense and it didn't make sense. She looked with impotent fury at her phone, willing it to work. But as she opened the screen, she could see the uncaring icon telling her there was no signal. Incommunicado; she couldn't call and speak. What had appeared to be an irritating frustration this morning was more ominous now. She walked through to the kitchen to join her parents. They were sitting at the kitchen table. There was a cup of steaming tea in front of an empty chair. She sat down with them.

"Thank you," she said to her mother.

"My phone doesn't work. I'm guessing Will has cut the service," she said in a flat tone. Her Dad nodded at her words.

"He came by this morning and dropped off your things. He said that if you were missing anything to write it down and he'd sort it out for you."

"That's it?" There was a note of incredulity in Tamara's voice. That was all he'd said? It didn't make sense.

"Nope. He sat down with us and had a coffee. I'd swear he'd aged five years since we'd last seen him. He looked tired, old, and absolutely wiped out."

On the table there was a large brown envelope. Tamara nodded her head towards it.

"Is that for me?" She asked. Her father nodded.

She reached for it and pulled it across the table to her. She could feel her heart beating in her chest. She ripped a corner and easing her finger into the hole. She sawed it across, opening the top of the envelope. She carefully pulled out the pile of papers inside. On the top was a letter with her name at the top of the page. Just her name, no "dear" or anything like that, nothing to soften it. Just her name. A shiver ran up her back, as she prepared herself for the contents.

"Tamara,

I've decided, chosen to end our marriage. In this envelope are signed divorce papers. Please read and review the terms I've proposed. Sign the papers where indicated and either return them in the pre-paid envelope to my solicitor or pass them to my parents.

I've been fair. I'll be the custodial parent; the boys will spend the bulk of their time with me as they have done for years. You can have generous visitation. I am happy to make it an even fifty-fifty time split if you want.

Financially, I'm suggesting our finances are split fifty-five to forty-five, favouring me as the custodial parent. I'll remain in the house until Greg has left for university or turned nineteen, whichever happens sooner. At which point the house will be sold and the proceeds split in line with our other finances. Included in this agreement are the monies you've been keeping in your German bank account. The one you neglected to tell me about. The balance is in the settlement attached to the papers.

This isn't a negotiation, rather it is an amicable solution to the problem you gave me when I discovered what was going on. Reconciliation isn't on the table, nor will it be. I don't imagine you want it. But even if you did, I can't conceive any combination of words that would change my mind.

Should you decide not to sign, then the amicable solution will be off the table. We will all have to deal with the consequences of that decision.

You can't get in touch with us. I've taken the boys away for a few weeks holiday, a chance for them to understand the changes we're making to the family and come to terms with them. The boys' phones won't work, and I've changed my number. I'm not going to respond to email and as you don't know where we are, good luck trying face to face. We will be back, before school restarts at the very latest.

Our home isn't your home any longer and you're not welcome there. The locks have been changed and all your stuff passed over to your parents for safe keeping. Please respect our privacy. If there is something I've missed, tell my parents and in time I will return it. But I think I've gotten everything.

Have a long think about how we got here. Speak to the people around you and bear in mind they will be affected by the choices you make. Take good advice.

Choose wisely.

William"

She read it through twice and passed it across to her father. She started to look through the divorce proposal. She could feel tears prickling in her eyes, blurring the words as she tried to read. It was as he said, he'd been fair. Visitation was deferred as subject to agreement, but the rest of it was clear.

Her father passed the letter across to her mother.

"Stay here tonight, Tamara and we'll give you a lift over there tomorrow. Maybe the two of you can have a conversation. Fix this, if you can although it appears a bit late now."

She looked up at him, wiping her eyes.

"I don't think so, Dad." She scowled. "He's taken the kids away on holiday."

"Without you?" Her mother challenged.

"Yep. He's the primary carer, isn't he? He can do that and he has."

"That's damn cruel." Her father observed.

Tamara shrugged. She didn't think it was intended to be cruel, just to give him space and why shouldn't he take the kids with him? He did spend more time with them, looking after them. It made any hope of a reconciliation harder for her.

"When he came over what did he say?" She asked, her voice soft.

"He asked how we were, had a cup of tea with us. The kids were watching telly in the lounge. He asked us to pick you up at the airport, telling us when and where. I asked him why and he said the two of you were splitting up."

He stopped for a sip from his cup. Tamara could see him pulling himself together.

"We asked why, he wouldn't tell us. Just that you guys were finished. He said the divorce was all laid out in the envelope and asked us to be there to give you support. He was sorry and if there was anything we could do, it would be to persuade you to take the amicable solution."

"Did he say what would happen if I didn't?"

Tamara saw her dad shake his head. "I think the threat is clear."

"He didn't say anything else?"

"Nope, said he was sorry, collected the kids and left."

"Shit, shit, shit." Tamara swore, she saw her mother nod her head at her words.

"I think honey, you need to tell us what's going on."

Chapter Two

'The Great Escape'

William Harrison stood in line at passport control. His three children were with him. Greg, his youngest, was sticky from a lollipop William had given him. Without thinking he reached into the pocket of his shoulder bag and passed across a wipe to clean his hands and face. It was a meandering, listless queue. He'd been expecting that and had prepared the boys for a wait. School holidays were always going to be an exercise in patience, especially at a popular tourist destination such as Orlando.

They were fortunate as a family. While the big earner in the family was Tamara, William punched well above the national average wage and they didn't have to scrimp or save. When he wanted to get away with the children, he had options. A surprise three-week holiday to Disney World wasn't out of his budget and such a trip meant Mum's absence wasn't at the forefront of the boys" minds. If she didn't sign within the three weeks, Florida had enough other distractions to protract the trip and not have to worry about the boys missing home.

He looked at the watch and did the mental gymnastics to work out the UK time. She'd be at home with her parents. She should have read the letter by now and was probably wondering what the hell had happened. She was in for a nasty couple of weeks. Not knowing what was going on, wondering who knew what. Learning it wasn't nice, being the one in the dark.

He shuffled forward with the boys and their shoulder bags as the queue inched along Three weeks of fun, sun, and relaxation. Just what the doctor ordered after the shitshow that was the last six months. This would repair some of the damage. Help him feel human again. While he was doing that and the boys were having fun, she'd be stressing. For her, there was only one way out, sign the papers. End their marriage. He knew she didn't want that outcome. It would be anathema for her, she'd be trying to work out a solution that didn't end with her signature.

It took half an hour to get through security. A little less to collect their luggage and wend their way out of the airport. They'd booked a transfer to their resort in Disney's village and gratefully caught it. They were all eyes as they made their way to the hotel. The signs, the traffic, the noise, the heat, and humidity all unfamiliar yet fascinating. He knew they'd sleep well tonight.

The cool of the hotel's air conditioning was as welcome as it was novel. They checked into their suite and explored, agreeing who was sleeping where. The large double bed was reserved for William and he sank into its soft embrace with an appreciative groan.

"Dad. What's down there?"

He pushed himself off the bed and ambled over to the window. He walked out onto the balcony, scowling as the heat hit him. He laughed as he looked down.

"Boys, grab your trunks and a towel," he called out as he quickly moved to get changed.

"What is it?" Greg asked, stripping.

"It's called a lazy river. You'll love it. Now chop-chop, get changed and we can go down there and hang out for a few hours."

That was their first afternoon on US soil. Sitting on inflatables in the hotel's lazy river. Laughing and squealing as the patient current spun them around in relaxed circuits. Getting splashed by water jets, drenched by waterfalls, and dunking each other as time passed happily. There was a bar and William kept them hydrated, covered in sunscreen, and helped manage their energy.

Mindful of the time difference, he called his parents back home in England, catching his father before he went to bed.

"Hey Dad."

"Hey Bill, how're you and the boys?"

"All good. They're in the pool. I can see them from where I'm sat."

His dad laughed. "Hotel good?"

"All I was hoping for. We got here early afternoon and we're lounging around in the water. The sun's shining and they're not going to run out of beer anytime soon. The boys are pretty knackered from the flights. Burgers for tea, I reckon and then an early night."

"Heard anything from Tamara?"

"Not going to, Dad. The boys" phones don't work over here and I've got a new number. She doesn't know where we are, what we're doing or how to get in touch."

"Still seems cruel to me. Just saying. The boys are hers as well."

"Yep, I get it. It's cruel. Think of it as my personal blitzkrieg. The hard fast strike at the start of the war that ends it quickly."

"Risks escalation. She's going to be pissed." His dad observed. "Think she'll take the amicable option?"

"I'd prefer it if she did, Dad. But it's her choice. I'm up for the fight if she decides to take that route."

"She's not been in touch yet. All is quiet on the Western front."

Bill laughed. "She will. When she finds the house, all shut up and no-one home, she'll come to you next. She's going to be a regular visitor for the next little while. She'll know I'm in touch with you and she'll exert pressure."

His dad chuckled. "Bring it on. I want to hear what she has to say."

"You and me both, Dad. I'll be interested to hear if she offers anything up. My guess is she'll fish but not offer much up herself."

"Don't worry, whichever it is, I'll share it with you."

"Dad, I'm going to go. I'm absolutely shish kebabbed. I'll ring soon, OK?"

"No worries, Kid. Stay safe and pass our love on to the boys."

It was an early night, that night.

--------------------------------------------------

Three days later, William checked in with his father again.

"Hey Dad."

"Hey Kiddo. How's tricks?"

"All good over here. The boys are having a blast. We spent the day at a water park. I don't think I've laughed so much in years. They're killing me. I picked the right ages to bring them here. They play all day, eat like pigs, and sleep all night."