One crisp morning, as was our habit, I was playing a board game with my son Tom. Out of the blue there came a knock at the front door. I swung it open and there stood a face I hadnt seen in years.
Helen and I had been married for seven years, and Tom was six. Life was fairly comfortable; we adored our little lad and often talked about having another childa daughterso I could hear the pitterpatter of a girls laugh around the house.
As the months went by Helen grew distant, a chill settling between us. I could feel something was amiss. Eventually we were sleeping in separate beds, and she blamed it on exhaustion and a lack of mood.
A few mates of mine finally helped me see the truth. They told me theyd spotted Helen being driven to work by a polite gentleman who held the door open for her and seemed far too friendly.
I didnt want to accept it; I clung to the hope that our love would survive, especially because we had a child. I couldnt put the conversation off any longer, so that evening I sat Helen down and asked her pointblank about the affair. She had nothing to say, packed her suitcase and left, leaving Tom in my care.
Of course I was relieved to have Tom with me, but I was also shocked by his mothers indifference. Was she really such a bad mother? Did she not love her own child?
The early days were hard. There were countless moments when I stared at Tom, unsure what to do. I rang up family, asked friends for advice, and read endless articles online. At first Tom missed his mum, but after a while he settled in.
Four years later things had turned around. I didnt skimp on anything for Tom; we took trips to Bath, the Lake District and Cornwall, spending whatever pounds were needed to give him a proper childhood.
Then, as usual, we were playing a game one afternoon when the knock came again. I opened the door and there she wasmy exwife, looking exactly as she had four years before, perhaps even better. Tom paid her no mind. She stood there, uncertain, then rushed at him, hugging, kissing, apologising, pouring out her hotblooded love, but Tom turned his back on her.
I thought the best way to defuse the tension was to invite everyone in for tea. The first ten minutes were dead silent, as awkward as a church pew after a funeral. Then she began
It turned out she wanted to take Tom with her. I gave Tom the chance to decide. I saw the fear flicker in his eyes and the uncertainty in his voice. I suggested he could spend a few days with his mum, see how it felt, and then choose.
All the while the thought of being alone nagged at me. If Tom liked the idea, would I be left on my own?
But the next morning Tom came back, telling me his mother wasnt going anywhere and that he wanted to stay with me. Hell keep in touch with Helen, but he isnt ready to move.
