I never intended to marry. Had it not been for the relentless courtship of my future husband, Id still be as free as a bird. Arthur, like a lovesick moth, fluttered around me, never letting me out of his sight, bending over backward to please me. In short, I surrendered. We married.
Arthur became family almost instantlycomfortable and familiar, like an old pair of slippers.
A year later, our son Oliver was born. Arthur worked in another town and only came home once a week, always bringing treats for Oliver and me. On one such visit, as I prepared to wash his clothes, I checked his pocketsa habit Id formed after once accidentally laundering his driving licence. This time, a folded slip of paper tumbled out. Unfolding it, I found a long list of school supplies (it was August, after all), and at the bottom, in a childs handwriting: *”Daddy, come home soon.”*
So, this was how my husband amused himself while awaya bigamist!
No hysterics. I grabbed my bag, took Olivernot yet threeby the hand, and moved in with my mother. *”Stay here until you patch things up,”* she said, giving us a small room.
The thought of revenge crossed my mind. I remembered an old schoolmate, Roberthed pursued me relentlessly back then. I rang him.
*”Hello, Robert. Still unmarried?”* I began casually.
*”Margaret? Hello! Married, divorcedwhat does it matter? Fancy meeting up?”* he replied eagerly.
My unplanned affair lasted six months. Arthur paid child support dutifully each month, handing the money to my mother in silence before leaving.
I knew he lived with Catherine Edwards, a woman with a daughter from a previous marriage. Catherine insisted the girl call Arthur *”Daddy.”* The moment she learned Id left, shed moved into Arthurs flat. She adored himknitted him woollen socks, cooked hearty meals. I learned all this later. For years, Id throw Catherine in his face, though at the time, I believed our marriage had run its course.
Then, over coffeediscussing the divorceArthur and I were suddenly overwhelmed by fond memories. He confessed his undying love, swore he didnt know how to rid himself of Catherine. My heart softened. We reconciled. (Incidentally, he never learned of Robert.) Catherine and her daughter left town for good.
Seven happy years followeduntil Arthur was in a car crash. Surgeries, rehabilitation, a walking stick. The ordeal broke him. He took to drink, withdrew into himself. Pleading did no good. He refused help, dragging us all down.
Meanwhile, at work, I found solace in Paula married man whose wife was expecting their second child. How we ended up in bed, Ill never know. He was shorter than me, not my type! Yet there we weregalleries, concerts, ballets. When his daughter was born, Paul vanished, changing jobs. Out of sight, out of mind. I made no claims on him; hed merely dulled my pain.
Arthur kept drinking.
Five years later, Paul resurfaced, proposing marriage. I laughed.
Arthur, briefly sober, went to work in Belgium. I played the dutiful wife and mother. He returned after six months. We renovated, bought new appliances, fixed his carlife seemed good. Then he relapsed. Hell began again. His mates carried him home; I searched parks and benches for him, dragging him back.
One spring morning, I stood gloomy at the bus stop, oblivious to birdsong and sunshine. A whisper at my ear: *”Perhaps I can ease your sorrow?”*
I turned. Good Lorda handsome, distinguished man. Me, at 45was I still a catch? Flustered, I boarded the bus just in time. He waved as we pulled away. All day, I daydreamed of him. For two weeks, I played coythen George wore me down.
He waited for me each morning, blowing kisses, once bringing red tulips. *”What will my colleagues think?”* I protested. He gifted them to an eavesdropping granny, who cackled: *”Bless you, lad! May you find a passionate mistress!”* I flushed crimson.
George pressed on: *”Lets be guilty together, Margaret. You wont regret it.”*
The offer was tempting. With Arthur perpetually drunk, I plunged in. George57, teetotal, a former athletewas charming. Divorced. For three years, I vacillated between home and him, intoxicated by passion but knowing it would end badly.
Oliver saw us at a restaurant. I introduced them. That evening, he pleaded: *”Dont leave Dad. Give him time.”*
A divorced friend urged me to *”dump these ragamuffin lovers and settle down.”* I listeneduntil George raised a hand to me. That was it. The fog lifted. Three years of tormentover!
George begged for months. My friend kissed me, gifting a mug: *”You did right.”*
Arthur knew everythingGeorge had called him, certain Id leave. *”Hearing his boasts,”* Arthur admitted, *”I wanted to die. I drove you away. Im a fool.”*
Ten years on, we have two granddaughters. Over coffee, Arthur takes my hand: *”Margaret, dont look elsewhere. Im your true happiness. Believe me?”*
*”Of course, my love.”*
