At work, I was now very much Miss Evans' right-hand woman and she was giving me more and more of her responsibilities. It's funny that I never thought of her retiring, even though she was well over sixty and had been working at the practise for nearly forty years. I did eventually discover that she had a first name — Mavis, but no-one, not even the partners ever called her anything but 'Miss Evans'.

One day my desk telephone rang and it was Miss Evans.

“Mandy my dear, would you mind stepping into my office?” The 'my dear' gave me reassurance that I wasn't being called to account for some unknown transgression.

Entering her office, I saw Miss Evans seated at her desk, and standing behind her were two of the partners — Charles Baker, son of one of the original partners, and Maurice Matthews, the latest partner in the firm. There was no sign of Greg.

“Sit down please Mandy,” said Miss Evans and I sat down on the chair in front of her desk, starting to think that I was about to undergo some sort of grilling, but I was wrong.

“Mandy, I have decided to retire,” she said “and after discussion with the partners, we would like you to succeed me in the position of Chief Clerk of the clerical department.”

To say I was shocked was an understatement, but eventually I recovered my voice to say “Yours are very big shoes to fill Miss Evans, but yes thank you, I accept.”

“Congratulations,” said Mr Baker. “Miss Evans assures us that the department will be in very good hands.” With that he and Mr Matthews left the room.

Miss Evans smiled at me “I suppose you thought I'd be staying until they carried me out in a wooden box?”

I felt myself blushing and she laughed “No need to answer my dear. The ironic fact is that I am not well, and that wooden box may not be too far away.”

She saw the look on my face and said “Don't feel sorry for me Mandy. I've had a good life and have thoroughly enjoyed my work. I recommended you to this position because of your honesty, efficiency, and work ethic, not because of any 'external factors'.”

So she knew! I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. It was a relatively small office and although Greg and I had done our best to be discreet, I don't suppose Miss Evans missed much of what was going on.

“I will do my best to live up to your expectations.” I replied.

The partners gave Miss Evans a splendid farewell dinner in a private dining room at Brisbane's best hotel. She was presented with some beautiful diamond earings and some crystal vases. Everyone made speeches and said how they didn't know how the firm would cope without her but thank goodness they had Miss Collins to take over. Miss Evans then made a short speech thanking everyone and saying she hoped we would all stay in touch. No reference was made to her health.

Greg's wife Marigold was present, as indeed she had been at the regular Christmas dinners, but this time she seemed to make a point of talking to me.

“Congratulations on your new appointment.” she said.

“Thank you very much Mrs Thompson.” I replied and she responded “Oh please, call me Marigold. After all we're almost family now.”

I suspected my cheeks were colouring at that remark. Did she mean 'family' as in both being connected to the firm, or was there more to it than that? Was she subtly letting me know that she knew about me and Greg? On reflection that shouldn't have surprised me, since women have a way of detecting when their man is straying. If she did know then obviously she was prepared to live with it. After all she had much to lose if she divorced Greg.

Miss Evans was right, as indeed she always was, and it was only four months later that most members of the firm, somberly dressed, gathered on a grey drizzly day to bid her farewell. A couple of nephews and nieces turned up, but it was quite a small gathering, and talking to a couple of them at the obligatory post service refreshments, it seemed none of them had been particularly close to her.

As a legal firm, we had the job of settling up her small estate, and I was surprised and humbled when she left me the beautiful diamond earrings that had been given to her on her retirement. It seems I really had meant a lot to her. I have those earrings still and wear them on special occasions.

The more we think that life is settled, the more it is likely to spring a surprise on us. One of the married typists had left and I appointed a replacement, a pretty blonde called Helen. I gave her the job based on my assessment of her ability to perform the required tasks, but perhaps I should have been less confident of the security of my relationship with Greg. The first warning signs were when he seemed to be dropping by the office more frequently than usual, and often paused to share a joke with Helen. Well, there was nothing I could do about it. To look for an excuse to sack her would have seemed churlish, and anyway, her replacement might have been even more attractive in Greg's eyes.

So I was surprised when a few weeks later he asked if I was free to go away with him for a weekend. Of course I agreed — I never refused him anything. In this I felt I was the perfect mistress — always available, never demanding, and certainly without any designs on replacing his wife, even had it been possible in my case. The only problem for me was that I had been Greg's mistress for about three years, and had probably reached my 'use-by' date. I went away fully expecting that at some point we would have that awkward conversation where he would say 'it wasn't me, it was him' and I would have to make it easy for him by saying that I fully understood and how soon did he want me to move out of the apartment?

To my surprise, he took me to the same country retreat where we had spent our first weekend together. Did he forget that, or was it a way of rounding out the start and end of our relationship? Knowing men, I suspected the former. It was a pleasant weekend, even though I was expecting 'the conversation', which didn't happen. When we made love, the thought crossed my mind that this would be the last time I felt him inside me, but soon enough I abandoned those thoughts and myself to the sensuous delights of joining my body to Greg's.

All too soon the weekend was over and we were driving back to Brisbane. Greg had now added a Ferrari sports car to his 'stable' and had shown it off to me this weekend. Like most women I suppose, I looked upon it as a 'big boy's toy', but I had to admit that there was a certain rush about being carried along in it, my hair streaming in the wind. Greg usually drove fast and confidently, but this time he drove more slowly,seeming to have something on his mind. There had been a shower of rain and the road was wet and slippery. We had reached a point in the road where it was narrow and wound around a hill, the land high on one side and a steep drop on the other.

“There's something I wanted to say to you,” he began, but got no further. As we rounded a bend, there was a semi-trailer that had skidded and was now angled right across the road. There was nowhere for Greg to go. I remember looking up and seeing the truck driver's white face as Greg hit the brakes and spun the wheel. I heard the crunch of steel on steel and then blackness.