An Affair of Olympic Proportions

An Affair of Olympic Proportions

In the summer of 2012, Britain buzzed with Olympic fever. Tourists thronged the streets, eager to witness the world's top athletes. Even Nicky, usually indifferent to sports, felt a thrill as she navigated the crowded pavements. All of the UK had outdone itself; even the sun had decided to shine and cast a golden hue over much of the country.

Nicky, an attractive 30-year-old woman, squeezed through the large crowds, soaking in the excitement of London, her home City, hosting such a huge event.  

Nicky stopped at a security station and smiled at the beaming soldier, waving her ticket for the Volleyball Quarter-Finals. She sat in the stands, surrounded by an excited crowd of spectators. Nicky was really surprised at how much she was enjoying herself.

Later, as she rejoined the lively crowd pushing their way out of the Park, Nicky spotted a familiar face a short distance ahead. It was Paul, one of her neighbours, with his arm around the waist of a woman who wasn’t Helen, his wife. The woman’s long blonde hair shimmered in the sunlight as she lay her head on his shoulder and briefly nuzzled Paul’s neck. She was much younger than Helen, and whereas Helen kept her brown hair short, this woman’s blonde hair was worn loose across her shoulders. Nicky’s heart skipped a beat. They disappeared into the crowd before she could fully process what she’d seen. By the time she had met her friends for a clothes shopping trip and then dinner, she’d forgotten all about Paul and his floozy.

Back home in her quiet London neighbourhood, the contrast was stark. The peace felt almost surreal after the Olympic bustle. Nicky lived alone in a quiet suburban area where the pretty, modest houses had front and back gardens lovingly tended by the residents.  

Paul and Helen lived on the road directly behind Nicky’s house; their gardens backed onto one another but were separated by a 6-foot solid wooden fence. Nicky often saw Paul tending his neat garden from her bedroom window, carefully sectioned flower and vegetable areas dominated by a well-mowed lawn. It was a pretty garden that Paul seemed to tend endlessly. She knew Paul and his wife worked in offices but never questioned what they did. On the rare occasions that Nicky had attended local parties, dinners or events that Paul and Helen had participated in, the couple seemed quite popular and possessed cheerful demeanours. But for some reason, Nicky had never been keen on Paul. Frankly, she found him a bit creepy. He always seemed too close for comfort if he came over for a chat. Nicky noticed that despite her ‘party demeanour’, Helen often looked slightly awkward until Paul returned to her side. Once they were back together as a couple, Helen would switch on a loud, sparkling personality, and loud laughter would emanate from those standing close to them. Already not keen on Paul, since Nicky had seen him cosying up to the other woman at the volleyball event, she now viewed him with cold suspiciousness and was pleased that she had never been particularly friendly.

Nicky lived next door to a pleasant couple, Abigail and George, who had lived in the neighbourhood all their married lives. They made it their business to know everyone and liked to keep abreast of the local gossip. They regularly hosted dinners and evening “get-togethers” and were considered the “go-to” individuals of the community. Despite working long hours in the City and rarely being available for their many social events, Nicky managed to maintain a close friendship with Abigail and George.

***********

Many months after the Summer Olympics, London returned to being the international capital city it had always been. One crisp Autumn Saturday morning, Nicky peered out her bedroom window to see police swarming in Paul’s garden, digging with grim determination. She looked at the dirty, tired faces of the young uniformed men, surrounded by the churned-up earth of the once neatly trimmed lawn. As she looked, she saw flashing lights as more police vehicles arrived on the road outside of Paul and Helen’s.  

Her heart began to pound. What on earth could have happened? Sweeping her eyes over the scene, she began to search for Paul or Helen, presumably supervising the destruction of their garden. She saw neither of them. She bolted downstairs and over to Abigail’s house, hoping for answers.

The two friends sat in Abigail's cosy kitchen. The deep-blue Aga producing just the right amount of heat for an early Autumn morning. Over a freshly ground expensive coffee, Abigail filled her in. “Helen’s gone missing. Her brother’s making accusations against Paul, saying he did something to her. The police are tearing up their garden, looking for evidence. It’s awful.”

Nicky’s mind raced. She remembered the mysterious woman entwined with Paul she’d seen exiting the Volleyball event at the Olympics. Should she mention it? Deciding against it, she listened as Abigail continued:

“Paul and Helen had a huge fight months ago. Then she vanished. Some say she ran off with another man.”

“When you say they fought months ago - do you mean when the Olympics were being held?”

“Mmmm, yes, you’re right. We organised an “Olympics Party” one night. I remember you couldn’t come. Paul came - on his own. He’d whispered that Helen couldn’t attend. He looked pretty distressed. Poor Paul was so upset by Helen’s rudeness for not coming. We assured him it was OK, and there were so many people that Helen not turning up wasn’t a problem. But he looked uneasy most of the evening and left quite early. He told me sometime afterwards that Helen had been unfaithful to him for years and had finally gone off with her latest beau.  George and I have been doing our best to look after him and invite him for regular evening meals. George says he’d be unable to cope if I went off with another man and feels we must look after him".

***************

The police found nothing in Paul’s garden, but the seeds of doubt had been planted in Nicky’s head. She began to avoid Paul and made sure their paths rarely crossed. Years rolled by, and Nicky’s life moved on. Helen never reappeared, and the mystery lingered in Nicky’s mind.

One evening, Abigail invited Nicky over for dinner. Paul was also there with a woman. Nicky stared in amazement. It was the woman he’d had his arm around, that Nicky had seen by chance in the middle of the heaving Olympic crowd. Nicky’s unease grew.

“Hi, Nicky. This is Hilary.”

Nicky shook hands with the woman’s hand.

“We’ve some surprise news for you, Nicky. Hilary and Paul married last week—can you believe it? Sly old dog. We had no idea they were going to marry”, said Abigail excitedly.

The rest of the evening was spent discussing the newlyweds. Abigail happily discussed the whole history of their relationship with Nicky, whilst Paul and Hilary just sat and nodded or joined in the laughter, adding little to the discourse.

As soon as dinner was over and they moved away from the table, Paul approached Nicky. Nicky didn’t look at all welcoming and moved her body away from Paul and his tendency to stand too close. 

“Well Nicky. I think this is the first time we’ve been at the same social event for …. let’s see, it must be years. I have seen you, though. You are often looking out of your bedroom window into my garden. I often wave, but clearly, you don’t see me.” He smiled that oily, too-friendly smile that made her toes curl. She moved away immediately and started talking to easy-going George, Abigail’s husband.  

Nicky's new boyfriend, Stephen, who had once been a policeman, listened to Nicky as she chatted on the phone that night after returning home. She shared her unease about Paul.

“Honestly, Stephen, that man makes me want to heave. He was too over-charming to Hilary - ugh. He then came over to me to say that he waved to me in my bedroom from his garden. There is something unpleasant about him. When Abigail asked them how and when they’d met, seriously, Stephen, the dates didn’t match. I saw those two together in August 2012, and they told Abigail they had met in 2014, two years later. So whatever Paul is up to, his new wife is in on it too! If Helen hasn’t been found, how can Paul marry another woman? How many years must you go missing before your partner can remarry?”

“I think it’s seven years, but a lawyer would know. Did Abigail look relaxed about it all? Presumably, she doesn’t have any news about Helen’s whereabouts?”

“I’m sure she doesn’t, but I’ll ask her tomorrow,” said Nicky. “This whole setup doesn’t seem right.”

Nicky decided to break her ‘no gossip’ rules and go to Abigail to see what extra information she might have.

“Abigail”, she said, taking a deep breath, “How well do you get on with Paul?”

“Oh, we get on fine. Of course, he’s not everyone’s cup of tea. Helen just running off like that, and then her brother creating an almighty ruckus. He was convinced Paul had done away with her.” she laughed. “Paul has had to put with a lot. Why?”

“I just wondered how Paul managed to marry Hilary. Isn’t he still married to Helen?”

“Oh Nicky, not you too! You don’t like Paul for some reason, do you?” Abigail’s voice rose. “The problem is that you don’t turn up at my dinners as you always do something else. If you did, you’d have been here when poor Paul told us all how the police had found Helen living in Hull with the man she’d run off with. Paul was beside himself with shock and distress. It took all of us at the dinner to comfort him. Poor man.”, said the emotional Abigail, near to tears herself. “Paul divorced her a year or so ago.”

“No, I’d not heard. Please forgive me, Abigail. I don’t want you and I to fall out over Paul.”

Nicky told Stephen that all was well, and Helen had turned up in Hull and was now happily remarried. However, Stephen returned that evening to Nicky’s and revealed chilling news. He still had chums in the police force, and they had checked the files. The records showed Helen was still officially missing; her case was cold. Paul’s new marriage raised more questions than answers.

Nicky again turned up at Abigail’s. It was becoming clear that Abigail had long ago decided to champion Paul, and Nicky’s questions were beginning to annoy her.

“You know, Nicky, Helen wasn’t a very nice woman. She always ran around with other men while Paul was alone watching TV or doing his garden. As he said, it was only a matter of time before she finally left him for one of her boyfriends.”

“Looking at her at your dinners and parties, she always looked like the last woman to have affairs with other men. She didn’t seem to have much self-confidence if Paul wasn’t at her side”, said Nicky.

Abigail disagreed with this statement, and her face began to show annoyance.

“They must have had one of those open marriages. I didn’t realise,” mused Nicky, thinking of Paul and Hilary snuggling up to each other all those years ago.

Abigail shot Nicky a look. “Open marriage? Not sure what you mean. When he married Helen, he was a loyal, trustworthy spouse. No, it was Helen who gallivanted around with one man after another. Paul told me”, said Abigail sharply.

“Sorry, Abigail - it was just …….” she finished lamely. Now didn’t seem to be the time to tell Abigail that she had first seen Hilary when Paul was supposed to be loyally married to Helen. Abigail still showed her irritation with Helen and how she had treated her husband, the wonderful Paul!  

“Gosh”, thought Nicky, “He must have brainwashed Abigail during all those beautiful dinners she kept cooking for him”.

“Sorry to ask Abigail, but were all the other neighbours privy to this information you got from Paul? Did others notice Helen’s infidelity to back up his side of things?’

“Nicky, I’m not sure what you’re suggesting. He was distressed that Helen couldn’t remain faithful. I have never seen that man flirt with any woman. When he came alone to the “Olympics Party,” many pretty, single women asked me about Paul. He’s considered very handsome”.  

Nicky said nothing but thought, “Creepy, not handsome, really creepy.”

“Quite honestly, everyone was flirting with everyone that evening, but Paul was quiet.  Had a few drinks and went home early. One of my friends over from France, a stunningly attractive woman, was in hot pursuit of him all night. She was so disappointed when he went home early. She spent the night here before returning home and said that when she finally crawled to bed, she’d seen the “poor man” out in his garden at three in the morning. She said the lonely, sad man appeared to be having difficulties sleeping and had taken to repairing some patio stones.”

Nicky took a deep breath: “Abigail, Helen isn’t remarried and living in Hull. Her police file is still open. She’s never been found.”

Abigail’s hand shot to her open mouth as she absorbed what Nicky had said. Her eyes sought Nicky’s, and they looked intently at each other.

“The patio? I only saw the lawn being dug over by the Police. Did your friend tell her story to the Police?” asked Nicky.

Swallowing, Abigail said, “……..No, she wasn't interviewed because she doesn’t live here; I never mentioned it……. Such a long time between the party and the Police questioning everyone - her story didn’t seem important.”

“I think you need to contact your friend in France, and I’ll contact the Police. I will also tell them about the first time I saw Hilary, which I believe was when you held your “Olympics Party” and Helen went missing.

Abigail numbly nodded.  

“I’ll get George. You don’t look too good”, said Nicky.

*************

The whole neighbourhood waited each day for the latest edition of the Evening Standard to be delivered to the newsagents. The jury was now deliberating, and the neighbours anxiously awaited the verdict.

“Guilty—both of them,” announced George to the little group assembled in their roomy kitchen.

“I still can’t get over how they could have murdered Helen and then Paul, cool as a cucumber, turning up at our party.”, wept Abigail.

“There, there,” said George, trying to comfort her as, once again, Abigail burst into tears. She cried a lot these days.

“What did the Standard say?” asked one of the neighbours.

Picking up the newspaper, George said, “There are pages and pages of it. It’s pretty much what we already knew, so I’ll summarise if that’s OK? 

Paul was a respectable head of department in a successful stockbroker company. He’d married Helen, also a stockbroker, in 2002. Paul’s company always knew what a flirt he was; rumour had it he had slept with most of the female staff. Helen was considered a sweet, pleasant woman.

Hilary started working for the company in 2011. and soon began a secret affair. Paul was smitten with Hilary and told her he would divorce Helen to be with her. When this didn’t happen, Hilary got furious. On Saturday, 28th July 2012, as Helen and Paul were getting ready for a neighbour’s party, a very drunk Hilary turned up at their house. She told Helen that Paul was leaving her, and a terrible argument between the two women ensued. During the argument, Hilary hit Helen across the face, and Helen fell backwards, hit her head on the hearth and died. At Hilary’s insistence, Paul went to the neighbour’s party to cover for Helen’s absence. When he returned home, he was revolted to discover that Hilary had dismembered Helen’s body 'so that it could be more easily disposed of.' Helen’s remains were buried at the edge of the patio in the garden. The two lovers lived a secret life, ensuring no one knew they were an item. Hilary decided to move Helen’s remains from Paul’s and bury them in Hilary’s garden. She reasoned that with no connection between Paul and Hilary, no one would ever find Helen’s body.”  

“That’s why the police didn’t find anything in Paul’s garden,” said a neighbour. They all solemnly nodded their heads.  

“If they hadn’t told us they were married, none of this would have come to light. A big thanks to Nicky and Stephen for their investigative skills. That’s everything.”, said George putting the newspaper to one side.

The room fell silent. Nicky glanced around at her neighbours, seeing the shock and sadness mirrored in their faces. Nicky wondered how appearances could be so deceiving. Paul, an upstanding community member, had harboured such dark secrets, a stark reminder that one never truly knows what goes on behind closed doors.

As the group disbanded, Abigail, still teary-eyed, whispered to Nicky, “I can’t believe we never knew. How could we have been so blind?”

Nicky squeezed her hand. “Sometimes, people are good at hiding who they truly are. But at least now, Helen can rest in peace, and they’ll pay for what they’ve done.”

As she returned to her house, Nicky felt a sense of closure. The truth had finally come to light, and the neighbourhood, though scarred, could begin to heal.