Intoxifresh

Chapter Three

Richmond upon Thames, London, 2:51pm

His vision had perilously blurred. The dark metal railings above the brick wall went in and out of focus with each footstep. Light drizzle trickled down from above. He squinted and pushed his hands deeper into his pockets in an attempt to keep dry. George swaggered along the pavement in his depressed state, heading much slower than usual, towards his suburban home. The violent and screaming wind bellowed beneath the darkened grey sky above sending swirling leaves into his path as he thought about what had just happened. Angrily, he kicked at them while picturing his boss ... his ex-boss now.

He heard a distant noise from behind and within seconds a car had roared past him sending a splatter of puddled water and a gust of wind in his direction. 'Oh for fuck's sake,' he said to himself letting out a loud sigh. He continued his drunken steps forward, dreading having to tell his wife what had happened and why he was wearing different trousers to the ones he'd left the house in that morning.

As he neared home he felt both nervous and worried. It was almost three in the afternoon and George was very clocklike in his routine, never arriving back home until after six in the evening. Catherine would either be out shopping or she'd be busy preparing whatever delights she had in store for dinner that evening.

Eventually he arrived at his front door where the green paint was peeling slightly around the frame. He fished around for his keys. 'Hey George, you ok? You're back early today.' He reluctantly turned around and saw a friend of his, smoking as always, who lived just a few doors down on the same road. His sense of urgency to find his keys quickly grew; he didn't want anyone to see him in his intoxicated state. His fingers found the metal objects in his pocket and he quickly made an attempt to push them into the lock but missed twice, chipping away more green paint. Once the key had slid inside the lock he waved to his friend Tom but didn't look at him.

'Hi, Tom... I'll talk later. In a bit of a hurry.' He just wanted to get inside, away from his friend who'd recently taken early retirement and into the warmth and comfort of his own house. He was still full of dread just thinking of the inevitable discussion he'd soon be having with his wife.

As he pushed the door open he was greeted by weird noises coming from upstairs. He quietly closed the door behind him and listened more closely, doing his best to focus on what was going on. Holding tightly onto the banister with both hands he began to clamber upwards while looking at his feet to avoid stubbing his toes on each step. The sounds were getting louder as he neared the bedroom door. George reached for the door handle but had to quickly rethink his actions. The sounds coming from inside were unmistakable, full of high energy, raw passion and exciting lust. Realising his wife was only a few feet away having sex with someone else sent his mind spinning. He gingerly stepped down each stair until he was back near the front door.

George Thornley would usually have burst into the bedroom to confront the situation head on; being a little above average height and well-built he could take care of himself. The problem was that, at this moment in time, the forty-four year old was drunk. He was amazed he had the ability to stand up given the amount of alcohol he'd consumed before and after his meeting with the board.

His anger grew in intensity as the noises continued, on and on they went. With gritted teeth he clenched his fist wanting to punch the chair nearby. He didn't know what to do. With his hands pressed tightly to his ears he walked into his kitchen and filled a pint glass with water. As he was glugging the refreshing drink one of the first things he saw was the set of stainless steel knives sitting close to the small wooden tree of ceramic cups. 'I could stab the bastard,' he muttered under his breath after he'd stopped drinking. He focused hard while steadily reaching out to take one of the larger knives. An echoing voice inside his head was telling him that the consequences would be too much, that he couldn't spend years in jail for knifing to death another human being, even though that human being was currently upstairs screwing his wife. He reluctantly withdrew his reach and shook his head while plonking himself down at the kitchen table. As he put his almost-empty pint glass down on the wooden surface he noticed two wine glasses right in front of him, both almost full of white wine. One of the glasses had a lipstick mark at the brim, which gave George an idea.

George Thornley was an expert, a genius when it came to medicine and pharmaceutical drugs. Starting out as a trainee at Merrick & Smyth almost 28 years earlier, he'd learned valuable lessons in the process and the creation of various medicines. His vast knowledge about the effects of each drug was apparent in his creativity and his former colleagues always held him in very high regard.

Picking up his glass of water and leaving a tiny trail of the liquid on the floor he eagerly went to the dresser drawer where he kept his pills and liquids, mainly for work purposes. The noises from upstairs were getting louder and he realised his own breathing was quickening as he panicked, sensing that at any time now they'd be finished. He continued rummaging around, trying to focus as best as he could. He found one of his orange pills and swallowed it with the remainder of the water. He continued to focus on the small labels and within seconds he'd found a dark glass bottle of Chloral Hydrate. He quietly shut the drawer and headed back to the kitchen, doing his best to undo the lid of the bottle along the way. A smug grin had fixed itself to George's face as he poured the liquid into the unmarked glass. He knew the knock out drops would quickly take effect, rendering the consumer completely immobile for between thirty minutes to an hour. He replaced the lid on the bottle and noticed something had changed. He turned his head and became aware of the quiet surrounding him. Trying not to make any noise, he crept back into the front room and sat down behind the sofa, his back pressed against its back as he gradually started to sober up from the water and the pill. All he could do now was listen.

The floorboards creaked under the weight of Catherine and her lover as the pair calmly walked down the stairs. George was seething as he listened to his wife of almost 20 years laughing along with the other man. Rage was building in his eyes as he wondered just how long this had been going on behind his back. Weeks? Months? Years, even? He was feeling much more focused now and he knew he'd soon be back to his normal self but until then he'd remain hidden behind the sofa, out of sight and waiting. More laughter and the clink of glasses sounded throughout the house from the kitchen; the fornicating couple were about to receive their surprise! 'Seriously that was just marvellous, Catherine, the best ever.' The voice from the kitchen sounded extremely familiar to George and his wife's response confirmed his suspicions without any doubt.

'Thanks, but you know, Jake, you really should be making a move soon. I need to start the dinner before 'you know who' comes home,' Catherine replied. With the shock of what he was hearing he felt suddenly heavier, weighed down into the floor. He was frozen until he heard more laughter from the pair and in an instant his senses all came flooding back to him. Sounds of giggling and kissing radiated around the house like a horrid stench. George was about to stand up, unable to wait any longer when...

'I think you're right honey, It's been fun as usual but I should be on my...'

'Jake... Jake, what's...'

This was themoment George had been waiting for. The loud thud of a man collapsing, thesound of shattering glass and the awful screams of his adulterous wife were allthe signals he needed to stand up and race to the kitchen to confront thedeceitful Catherine.