13October2024 Diary
Victor Clarke
I still remember the night I told Poppy that I had married her out of pity, then gave her an hour to get dressed for the wedding reception. The thought of working as a courier for someone of my standing seemed absurd. At my previous job I was respected, my skills valued. Now Id be scurrying through the streets of London with parcels like a schoolboy.
Victor, you said yesterday youd start wherever you could, Poppy said calmly, trying to keep the peace.
Its your fault for pushing me into this! I snapped, snapping to my feet and pacing the cramped flat.
You never stop naggingVictor, find a job, Victor, go to the interview, Victor, you promised Yes, I promised. I promised to be your husband, not your puppet!
Staring at a coffee stain spreading across the white linen tablecloth, my mind drifted back to our first evening together. A cozy restaurant in the centre of Manchester, candles flickering, my voice steady as I tried to convince her:
Poppy, with me youll forget all your worries. Ill turn your life into a fairytale. I have plans, opportunities
Back then I seemed so solid. The sharp suit (later I learned it was a hire), the forged watch, the polished manners Id picked up from business seminars. Most of all, the unwavering belief in my own brilliance, which I mistook for strength. In hindsight it was all smoke.
Im going for a walk, get some fresh air, I announced, ignoring the stain. You consider how you behave. Sometimes I think the problem is you. If you earned less, I might feel more secure.
A man needs to be the provider, after all. When his wife is a director of an advertising agency, it bruises his masculinity.
She slammed the door behind me. I sank into a chair, eyes fixed on the halfeaten fried eggs.
Provider energy, I thought. My God, what energy? In all our years together I hadnt nailed a single nail, never lifted a heavy box. I always claimed my hands werent meant for grunt work. What sort of energy was that?
I tried to trace the moment my attitude shifted. The more I remembered, the clearer it became that Id ignored the early warning signs of who I truly was.
The first red flag rang during our honeymoon when I forgot my wallet at the hotel. Then my bank card was blocked. Later the accounts were temporarily frozen for a routine check. Poppy covered the costs, soothing herself with the thought that everyone has mishaps.
Soon strange phone calls began.
Hello, is this Victor Clarke? You promised to repay a debt last month
I brushed it off as an old misunderstanding, hoping it would sort itself out.
Poppy, however, runs her own business from scratch. She can read people like open books. Clients, partners, staffshe sees right through them. Yet she said she felt blind these days.
Lucy Barker, my old friend and business partner, tried to warn me.
Victor, youre a clever man, Lucy said, fidgeting with her pen, avoiding my gaze. Cant you see hes just what?
Whats just? I asked, still defending myself.
A parasite, Victor. Hes latched onto a successful woman and lives off her. How many job searches has he claimed?
Its in progress! He has several promising leads
Come off it! He spends all day at home playing video games.
I accused Lucy of jealousy, insisting my marriage was happy. She simply shook her head.
Bless you, Victor, you really got yourself into a mess
In the second week of our acquaintance, he began bemoaning former employers for not recognising his genius. Eventually it emerged that his previous venture had collapsed due to a conflict with business partnersin other words, hed racked up debts.
Even his mother, the gentle Valerie Clarke, once sighed at a family dinner:
Maybe with you, Poppy, hell finally settle down
—
I tried to wipe that stubborn coffee spot, but it stayed. I loaded the dishwasher, letting the mechanical rhythm calm my thoughts.
The phone rang. It turned out Victor had left his mobile at work. The woman on the other end introduced herself as Marina Hughes, a HR manager.
We were expecting him for a logistics manager interview today, but he didnt turn up. Is he still interested? she asked.
Everythings fine. He just decided a courier job is beneath him, I replied.
But this was a senior logistics role, with a generous salary and full benefits. Your husbands résumé impressed us.
Senior logistics I had told Poppy Id be a courier. Why the change? Was she trying to make me feel sorry, to hear me say, Dont go, love, thats not your level?
What experience did he list? Marina continued.
Ten years in logistics, senior positions at large firms He sounded very confident on the phone.
Thanks, Marina. Im afraid he wont be bothering you any longer.
—
After hanging up, I sat at the computer and finally did what Id postponed for months: I ran Victors name through my network of contacts. The picture that emerged was bleak. His last official role was junior sales assistant at a windowmaking firm, dismissed for repeated absences. He owed money to several banks, faced enforcement orders from an expartner, and was behind on child maintenance for a son he never mentioned.
Staring at the screen, a strange calm settled over menot anger, but clarity. It was as if a fog had lifted, and the world became sharp and understandable.
That evening Victor returned, cheerful, clutching a bouquet of discount flowers from a supermarketprice tag still attached.
Poppy, Im sorry! I was wrong. It just happened, you know? But Ive thought it through. Im going to start my own business!
I listened in silence as he painted yet another castle in the air. He needed startup capital, which, of course, I would provide.
In six months, maybe a year, Ill repay you tenfold! Well buy a country house, you can keep your business, practice yoga, paint, whatever you like Maybe even have children!
Victor, I cut him off, voice flat. Pack your things.
What? he froze, bouquet trembling. What are you saying?
Im saying youre leaving tonight. You can go back to your mother, or anywhere else, but this place isnt yours any longer.
You cant! Im your husband! Were married! You have no right to do this!
What marriage? You havent even wanted children; you just invented them to sound noble. Yesterday you said children would be a burden to your great plans.
This is all because of your money! he shouted, hurling the flowers to the floor. You crushed me with your success! Any man next to you feels worthless!
No, Victor. Only someone who believes they are worthless will feel that way. Successful men beside successful women see themselves as partners.
Youre useless at my age! A lone careerwoman! I married you out of pity, you know? Out of pity!
His words, absurd as they were, fell flat. In fact they snapped the illusion into place. I finally let go of the dream.
Im giving you an hour to gather your things, Victor. After that Ill call the police.
Lesson learned: compassion without boundaries becomes captivity, and pride disguised as pity erodes both partners. I must remember that true partnership respects each persons worth, not their utility.
