The one that had surprised Lorraine the most was the wife, Grace. She had maintained complete radio silence and it was now more than three weeks since the email had been sent. She seemed to have disappeared off the radar completely and Lorraine was a bit unnerved by that. Who knew what she might be plotting now that the cat was well and truly out of the bag.
Lorraine’s musings were interrupted by a car drawing upon the gravel outside. She recognised it instantly as John’s and felt a little frisson of excitement. He walked up to the door and attempted to open it with his key.
One step ahead of your there, mate - she thought to herself smugly.
He banged on the door in annoyance.
‘Lorraine, let me in! We need to talk about this. I’ve said I’m sorry. I love you, I really do. None of the others mean anything to me. I just want to be with you.’
‘Well, I don’t want to be with you anymore. You should have thought about how much you loved me before you cheated on me.’
‘Please, Lorraine, just let me in,’ he pleaded.
‘Go away! Did you really think I was going to let you in here? From now on you can speak to me through a solicitor.’
‘What the fuck are you talking about? We can sort all this out ourselves, but you need to talk to me. Surely you don’t want to just throw away everything we had together? What about all my things? What about this house? It’s half mine…it was our dream home,’ he finished pathetically.
‘Half yours? We’ll see about that. It’s my name on the deeds remember.’
‘Don’t be like that Lorraine.’
He paused for a moment, but when she remained silent he began to lose his temper.
‘Open the fucking door or I will kick it in!’ he yelled.
At that point, she made a tactical decision to call the police. She wasn’t the least bit afraid of John, but she knew it would paint a good picture for the Courts if it came to that in the future. She dialled 999 and prepared to give the performance of her life.
‘Emergency services, which service do you require please?’
‘Police. It’s urgent,’ she gasped.
Once they had got the basics out of the way, the officer promised to stay on the line and tried to calm the apparently hysterical Lorraine, as she sobbed down the phone and begged for help.
‘Don’t worry Lorraine, they’re on their way now,’ the operator assured her. ‘Are the doors locked? Does he have a weapon of any kind?’
‘I don’t know…Oh God, please hurry…I think he’s going to kill me!’ she screamed. ‘The door’s locked, but he’s threatening to batter it down if I don’t let him in. I can’t see if he has a weapon…but he did tell me once he had a gun…Oh God, I’m scared!’
She had no idea if that last bit about the gun was true, but she felt it was a nice touch.
‘Right, I’ve sent that information to the officers. Now try to stay calm. They should be with you in about five minutes. Stay away from the door and go upstairs,’ the woman instructed her decisively.
Lorraine was delighted to note that John was furious when they turned up. Typically, he did not help his own cause by being rude and obnoxious to the officers.
‘I live here, you fucking jobsworths. I have every right to be here and every right to go into that house. I want my stuff out of there and I want my fucking cars!’ he shouted in the senior officer’s face.
Lorraine watched the scene unfold from inside the house, as the police became increasingly irritated.
‘Back away please, Sir, and calm down. You are not going in there. The lady inside has explained the situation and I would suggest the best thing for you to do is leave and then deal with all this through your respective solicitors.’
‘I’m going nowhere. Are you even listening to me? This is my house as much as hers so get out of my way and make her open the door. If you don’t, I will,’ he threatened, somewhat unwisely.
‘We have already checked the house, sir. You are not registered as an owner of this property. Nor are you on the electoral register here. If you continue to refuse to leave, we will have no alternative but to arrest you.’
‘Oh fuck off, you tossers. Why can’t you see it’s her who’s in the wrong here? She’s stolen my stuff. You lot are all the same. I wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire!’
That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Finally, the patient officers had had enough and, to Lorraine’s immense amusement, John was arrested and carted off unceremoniously to spend the night in their cells.
One of the officers stayed behind with Lorraine to reassure her and discuss the option of applying for a restraining order, which would effectively prevent John from coming within a five-mile radius of the house.
‘Given his violent behaviour this evening and the historic abuse you have just told me about, I really think you should pursue that avenue,’ the concerned officer had said before leaving, assuring her of their full support in the matter.
Lorraine could barely disguise her elation, as she wiped away a tear with a trembling hand, promising to read the leaflets and get in touch with someone who would help her.
The pain that she had in mind for John was only just beginning.
Letting go
Never try to hold on to something that hurts you. Look to the future and find something better.
Grace
I did not speak to or communicate with Daniel for a whole two weeks. Finally, I found the words and composed an email, determined to keep it both formal and dignified, despite the inner rage I felt.
Dear Daniel,
I remain in a state of utter shock and disbelief at the total devastation and humiliation you have brought crashing down on me.
From the start of our 20-year marriage, you were screwing around, having ‘one night stands’, several of which you developed into long term relationships with an utter disregard for the consequences of your actions.
The news that you have fathered at least 2 children that we know about is the cruelest blow of all of course. You knew fine well that I always wanted children myself, but you forced me to give up on that dream. I have no words to describe the bitterness and hatred I now feel for you, knowing that you went off and had children with other women. How can you live with yourself, you sick bastard, knowing what you have done to me? You are evil through and through and you have quite literally ruined my life.
I now have to come to terms with the fact that I was married to a total stranger for 20 years and that my whole life with you was built on extravagant lies and deception.
I really hope you will come to regret throwing away the life we could have had as you look at the fat, ugly tramps you chose to betray me with and are now saddled with. I almost feel sorry for you.
You really should have died in that helicopter crash, as the world would have been a much better place.
Obviously, I want a divorce and I want to be rid of you as quickly as possible. I am giving you one chance now to make me an offer of a settlement that properly compensates me for what you have done and it had better be good.
If you do not come up with a suitable figure, I promise I will drag you and all your whores through the Courts.
And I will destroy you.
Grace
My first draft had been a little more strongly worded, containing phrases such as:
I hope you burn long and slow, writhing in agony in the fires of Hell with a red hot poker up your arse…
I curse you and all the hideous trolls you have stuffed your disease-ridden dick into…
But I had deleted those. A bit too dramatic, even for me.
Daniel’s response to the more grown-up version he finally received came almost immediately:
Dear Grace,
I am really sorry it has come to this; I don’t know quite how it did, but we can’t change things.
I have always loved you and you are still the best bowman I have ever had!
I will look into your request but I d
on’t have an awful lot of assets left and I have just had a tax judgement against me for nearly £700,000. It’s totally unfair, but they refuse to listen or let it go. Obviously, I have appealed, but they have got it in for me.
This will probably bankrupt me, but I don’t think the receivers can touch your Conway house.
November started well but it’s really gone pear-shaped!
Hope you’re ok.
Love,
Daniel XX
I looked in utter disbelief at the email in front of me. He was clearly not right in the head. How could anyone of sane mind ever contemplate sending something like that? The brief apology, as if he’d left his underpants on the floor or forgotten to unload the dishwasher. The light-hearted banter about me being his ‘best bowman’. The flippant tone of the whole thing.
And what the hell was all that shit about bankruptcy?
I began to consider the very real possibility that my husband was completely and utterly insane and also potentially extremely dangerous.
The Fallout
It is only when you walk alone that you will discover your true strength. The path is always harder, but that is the walk that makes you strongest.
Grace
The bedroom curtains were parted slightly and I reluctantly opened my eyes, squinting in the pale winter sunlight. Sleep at least provided some respite from all the unwelcome thoughts that dominated my waking hours these days. I pulled the duvet over my head to shut out the light, having absolutely no desire or motivation to get out of bed and face the day.
I refused to let anyone else see just how hard things had become for me but, in truth, I was a mess, unable to accept and come to terms with my new reality. The metaphoric rug had been pulled from beneath my feet. Everything had been snatched away from me in the blink of an eye. Only a few months ago I had inhabited a world of exotic holidays, helicopters and yacht racing, planning a celebratory anniversary trip with my husband of twenty years.
What the hell happened? - I asked myself a hundred times a day.
Everyone said I was perfect for him.
- So why wasn’t I enough?
I really didn’t see the bombshell coming. One minute I was making holiday plans with our best friends. The next thing I knew, my world was plunged into chaos and I was fighting to keep a roof over my head.
Of course, I was not the only woman who ever found out her husband cheated on her, but surely no one could dispute the fact that my husband had found a way to take cheating to a whole new level.
On top of that, he was now claiming bankruptcy. Was that really true, or was it just part of a grand plan to make sure I came out of our marriage with nothing? I didn’t know what to believe anymore. I squeezed my eyes tighter shut, but the thoughts wouldn’t stop bouncing around in my head.
The Swan conversation had taken place just a few weeks ago. Why would he ring me and tell me he had bought a new boat for us if our marriage was a sham? We had so many plans and dreams for the future together. It simply didn’t add up.
I curled into a ball under the duvet.
- How did I get it all so badly wrong? Why didn’t I see this coming?
My brain still struggled to accept the fact that I was now completely alone. It all seemed surreal, as if I was outside in the cold, looking in on my own life through a window, unable to influence or connect with anything.
My husband, who had stood beside me all those years ago in front of our friends and family, promising to love, honour and cherish me till death did us part, had tossed me aside like a piece of rubbish and left me fighting to salvage any scraps I could from my past life, emotionally and financially devastated. He had signed the death warrant on our marriage the first day he betrayed me and his feeble protestations of regret to save his own skin changed nothing. My only communication with the man I had loved and trusted for so long was now through solicitors as we hurtled towards the inevitable divorce.
A loud bark from downstairs brought me sharply back to reality. Lola. Thank God for my gorgeous girl who would not allow me to languish in self-pity all day. I could never let her down. I dragged myself reluctantly out of bed, trudged downstairs in my dressing gown and opened the back door to let her out. She was easily pleased and wolfed down her breakfast, having returned almost immediately from the field to get her food. She was a Labrador, after all, a pure eating machine. As soon as she had devoured her breakfast she immediately lay back down in her basket, head on her paws, staring at me. I sat at the kitchen table and opened my laptop to check my emails. Predictably there was a string of messages from my solicitor, reminding me of the questions she wanted answers to. I steeled myself to read them.
Who is his accountant? Does he have life insurance? How many bank accounts does he have? Do you have any information about his offshore accounts? How many cars does he own? What are the details of his American bank accounts? Does he have a pension? Does he have any shares or other investments? Does he have a Will?
How the fuck should I know, I wanted to scream in response.
I snapped the laptop lid shut and stared blankly through the window, my head already beginning to pound.
How had I let this happen? I was not a stupid woman, but I had to admit I was doing a bloody good impression of one at the moment. Forty-six years old. The best years of my life wasted on a man who didn’t give a shit about me. Unless I made some pretty drastic changes, I was going to wind up well and truly on the scrap heap now, in more ways than one.
I studied the kitchen wall that I had completely covered in photographs. There were some of my parents and some of my brother and his family, but mostly the photos were of Daniel and me. Sailing regattas, holidays, black-tie dinners, The Dream Team everyone had said. I was fairly tall at five foot seven, but Daniel was well over six foot and so killer heels were never a problem when I was with him. I smiled as I remembered how Daniel used to tease me about all my shoes, but he knew I loved them, especially the carefully stored Louboutins in the wardrobe upstairs that I had treated myself to. I was dressed to kill in all of the black-tie photos. My hair was down in most of them, long dark curls framing my face. People used to say I had my father’s dark brown ‘chocolate drop’ eyes, always a little sparkle of mischief in them and I worked hard to keep slim and toned, just the way Daniel liked me. He always said being overweight was so aging. I thought of the photos of Jane and realised that even that had been a lie.
Tears sprang to my eyes and I wondered again what the hell I had done wrong.
- What happened to me? Where did that sassy, confident girl in the photos disappear to?
My thoughts returned to the initial, depressing meeting with Eleanor, my solicitor. It dragged on for over three hours and at the end of it, she gave me a pitying look. She predicted that at best I would be able to keep the house in Conway (along with its hefty mortgage) that was in my name. Nothing else in her opinion.
I stared at her in disbelief. That was the best-case scenario? She clearly thought I was an idiot. It was written all over her face.
‘Grace, we have to be realistic,’ she stated patiently. ‘If you can’t come up with any evidence or paperwork to support what you have told me about your husband’s financial affairs, we are going to have a very difficult time in court. You have a lot of theories, which I wholly believe are correct, but you have no proof.’
She shook her head and sighed, before continuing.
‘The thing is Grace, I’m afraid it really doesn’t matter who is the wronged party in a divorce. No one cares. It’s all about the finances. A mathematical exercise. You have been treated abysmally by Daniel and I can honestly say I have never before in my career encountered deception on this level, but the harsh fact is that the judge will ultimately divide everything straight down the middle, 50/50. Right now, on paper, we’re looking at 50% of not a lot where you’re concerned.’
I was astounded by the apparent injustice of our legal system.
- How could he not be punished for what
he had done to me? Why should he be treated fairly?
‘So what am I supposed to do then? Walk away with nothing, while he just gets away with it all?’ I retorted, angrily.
‘No, that’s not what I’m saying at all, but you’re going to have to find a way to help yourself here. Nobody else can do it for you. From what you have told me, your husband is, in all likelihood, a very wealthy man and owns several valuable assets, but he is clearly not planning on sharing any of that with you. You have to face the fact that he’s scheming to hide everything from you and probably has been for some time. He’s cunning. Worse than that, I’m guessing he’s prepared to lie through his back teeth, even under oath.’
‘Yes, I’m well aware of that,’ I said sulkily as she continued, clearly not about to spare my feelings.
‘He basically intends to cut you off and leave you high and dry with nothing to show for your lengthy marriage to him. If we’re going to stop that happening, we need evidence. It’s as simple as that.’
I burst into tears of frustration and sobbed uncontrollably at the unfairness of it all.
‘But he’s cleared everything out at home and taken all the paperwork away. There’s literally nothing left in the office. How the hell am I supposed to find out all that stuff you’re asking me about? It’s obvious he’s been planning this for ages and as you say, he’s devious. To be honest, I have absolutely no idea where to start.’
I was furious with myself as well as with her. The realisation dawned that for years I had allowed myself to be kept in the dark about our finances, fed bite-size pieces of information by Daniel to keep me happy, but never given the full picture.
Twenty Years a Stranger (The Stranger Series Book 1) Page 15