My True Colours

by Hannah Francis

  I ring Roger and confront him. He denies everything. I tell him to fuck off because it is over, and I slam down the phone. An hour later, he pulls up outside the shop. He asks me to go with him for five minutes and have a chat. I agree only because I do not want my customers listening to my private life. I get into the car and tell him to pull up to the side of the road. Roger has a smug grin on his face and he asks me when I go shopping, will I get him some new pants. I reply, “What’s the fucking point? You don’t keep them on long enough.” He thinks this is hilarious. I scream at him. “I will never be treated like that ever again by you or anyone else!” I am furious. He admits that he did see her, but she was hanging around him, and he was drunk. I tell him to fuck off because it’s over. Then I get out and slam the door. I am gutted.

  Ali warns me that the other woman’s best friend is the hardest woman in her village and will smack my face in if she sees me when I am out. I remind her that I haven’t done anything. Ali suggests going out in her village this weekend; she knows what pub she will be in and advises me to have it out over there, or else I will have to face her in our usual haunts, in front of all our friends. I agree. I have no choice.

  The following week, Ali and I enter the woman’s local pub. It is half empty, and we get a drink and take a seat. A minute later, the woman walks over and asks if she can talk to me. I take a deep breath and tell her she can. She explains in her very posh voice how Roger wouldn’t leave her alone and kept pestering her for a date. I ask her if she has slept with him. I still can’t believe he would do that to me. She smugly replies that she has, adding that she went to his house on Friday nights and met his children. Little details slot into place, like how he stopped ringing me on Fridays and would not answer the phone if I rang him. Also, he would ask me if I was going out every week to make sure he didn’t get caught.

  I tell her, “The worst thing is that I was there for him when he got divorced, and this is how he thanks me.” She replies that she can see how upset I am, so she will step aside for me. I am furious. I reply, “You are welcome to him.” The cheeky bitch!

  Just then her phone rings, and Roger’s name is on it. She looks at me, and I tell her to answer it. She answers, purring, “Hello, Rog. Guess whom I’m talking to?” I hear him ask who, and she says my name.

  I take the phone out of her hand and say hello. He asks if I am OK. I tell him, “Yes, we have just been discussing how small your dick is, and we have nicknamed you Mini Me!” Before he has a chance to comment, I hang up the phone. I hand it back to her and walk back to Ali. She asks if I’m OK, and I reply, “I want to go home.”

  In the taxi, Ali’s tries to make me feel better. She says that I am the opposite of that tart; she is all fake, fake tan, fake eyelashes. She’s a mess. I am humiliated, and I also realise that it means I am going to be alone again. Ali tells me that I should look in the mirror. I am a pretty woman who has a lot going for her. She adds, “You are even prettier than me.” This is a massive compliment because Ali thinks she is gorgeous!

  Three weeks have passed since I have split up from Roger. I have arranged to go out with the girls on Saturday; Dad has offered to be my taxi. The evening passes slowly, and I drink too much. As the night ends, I am glad to get into Dad’s car. On the way home, I ask, “What is wrong with me?”

  He tells not to be silly. All his mates at the pub think I am lovely, and everyone likes me. He says that I was too good for Roger. Mam’s opinion is that she could see he was a waster, and I am better off on my own. She adds that she will never forgive him for hurting me like that. The children are blissfully unaware that I am thoroughly miserable. Polly asks why Roger doesn’t come to visit anymore, and I tell her that we have split up. Frankie and the boys are pleased, they tell me, “He was a moany git, anyway.”

  Roger tries to contact me at least twice a day on the phone and at work. I ignore him. He has tried to talk to me when I am out. Stuart confides to me that Roger and the woman are not getting along; she spotted a love bite on his neck that she didn’t create. I laugh and tell him it wasn’t me.

  Despite feeling like crap, I make the most of my new figure. I have always been told I have a good pair of legs, and I wear a denim miniskirt and some fake tan to enhance them. My dad tells me that I inherit them from my mother, and that was what attracted him to her. He adds that thin ankles is a must for a cracking pair of pins. He is dropping me off at the pub and picking me up tonight. The girls are all coupled up, and I am going out with a friend and client from the shop who lives in town. I go out and meet her, and I am drunk by the third pub.

  Roger One is out and asking to talk to me. Eventually he pulls me outside and tells me he has missed me. I haven’t seen him for over a year. I ask him about his new baby, and he tells me he has a son. I congratulate him, and he adds that he has heard I am single now, and so is he. He goes on to say that he and the boy’s mother have split up. Although he adores the baby, he hates her. He also adds that because she already has her hands full with six children, she allows him to see his son as much as he likes. I tell him that I have to leave because my friend is in the pub on her own. He requests my phone number and asks if he can take me out on a date, and I agree. After all, I have nothing else to do!

  Roger One and I agree to meet up the following week. I meet him at his place because I don’t want to see anyone that I know. We go for a meal and chat, and it is nice. He tells me that he has bought a house and has completed all the DIY work himself, which has been keeping him busy. He asks me what happened with Roger Two. I fill him in, telling him that basically, he did the same to me as he did two-time me. I laugh about it.

  He is serious when he looks at me and says, “It’s not funny, though, is it?”

  I reply, “No, it isn’t. But humour is how I cope. I was taught to laugh at myself before anyone else can.”

  He apologises to me for treating me so badly. He tells me I am looking great, and he asks me if, after the meal, I would like to see his new house. I reply, “Why not?”

  Roger One shows me around his home. He says that he has decorated it throughout. I tell him that it is lovely. He pulls me close, kisses me, and tells me that we could get back together. My children would be welcome here, and we could stay every weekend. He adds now that he has his son, we could be a family. He asks me how the children are, and this makes me smile. I tell him that Frankie still mentions the finger game. He laughs and says that his mates told him that I was getting married, so he didn’t try to get in touch with me.

  I tell him I have to be going, I gave him a kiss on the cheek and ask him to give me time to think. I have just come out of a relationship and don’t want to get hurt again.

  Ten minutes later, I am sitting in my car and thinking to myself, Eighteen months ago, I would have been over the moon with this news. I ask myself if I can take being hurt again, and if I want to go from the frying pan and into the fire. I think about the kiss and whether I can rekindle the feelings I used to have for him. I ask myself what those feelings were and realise they were pity. I don’t think I cared for him at all; I simply wanted to help him. The reason I wanted him so badly was because I knew he would be a great dad to the kids, but was this enough? What about me? What do I want? I realise it is not Roger One.

  A minute later, my phone starts to vibrate. Roger Two is calling me, and I answer the phone. We arrange to meet. Later in the evening, when I get home, I text Roger One and tell him I’m sorry, but I’ve had a think about it and realise that I cannot go back to him.

  I meet Roger Two, and we talk. He tells me how much he has missed me, and he didn’t realise what he had until it was gone. The story of my fucking life! He says that his dad thinks I am one in a million and that he was a fool to risk throwing away a hard-working girl. He says he wants a fresh start.

  I reply, “If I go back to you, it has to be different.” He asks how I have been getting on. I tell him I have been deco
rating and saving for a new kitchen; it is the last big job to do in my house. He offers to fit one for me if I buy it. I say that if he does, I will have enough left over for fencing all around the house. He offers to do that for me as well. I think about how much it will piss off the posh bitch if we get back together. I also think about how much money I will save by having Roger Two back.

  This outweighs the humiliation of telling family and friends that I have taken him back. I also have to admit to myself how pathetic I have become. I cannot face being alone anymore. I was on my own for seven years, and I have had enough. I tell the children about my decision. Polly is happy, but the boys are not. My mother is worried, so I tell her when he finishes doing up the house, I will finish with him to keep the peace.

  Roger Two does as promised and finishes the jobs in the house. I have a new kitchen and fenced garden within two months. He tries to charm Mam, but she isn’t having any of it and keeps asking me when I am going to dump him.

  I have sex on tap again, and I enjoy snuggling up on the settee with a glass of wine and having an adult to talk to in the evenings when the children are in bed. He has given up his boys’ nights out. Roger has suggested moving in together, and he tells me that his daughter has just moved out because they haven’t been getting along. There will be room for all of us, and the living costs would be much cheaper. We discuss selling my house and paying off his mortgage. We would be much better off with two incomes. I want us to be a happy family. I want to be the same as everyone else.

  A month later, we are living together. My mother is hurt and upset. I have promised the children a puppy if we move. I have not changed their schools because Jonah is in his final year, and the younger children’s friends are there. I work near the school and can pick them up and drop them off before and after work. Dad sees that I am happy and forgives Roger Two; he tells Mam that I have been on my own long enough, but he warns me to be careful when I pay off his mortgage when my house sells. I tell him I have thought it through and will make sure my name is on the deeds and that a written agreement is signed and witnessed by a solicitor. Roger is money mad, and I don’t trust him in financial matters. I have worked hard over the years to benefit my children, not him or any man.

  Polly makes friends easily in our new village. She is the youngest and loves having a father figure around. Roger is good with her. Frankie is jealous and tells me he doesn’t like him. The older boys joke that Roger is so lazy that he drives to the sofa and jumps on. We laugh about this on our trips to school and work. Roger goes to work early and is always in his spot on the sofa when we get home. To them, it seems as if he doesn’t move off it.

  The boys are teenagers and are too old to start taking rules and orders from Roger. He wants them to keep the house spotless all the time and not eat any of his snacks, but this is not going to happen. The arguments begin!

  Every Saturday I take the children to my parents. They live around the corner from our old house. They go out with their friends while I am in work, and they have said that they don’t want to be left at the house to listen to Roger moaning. After work I pick up the children and have a cup of tea and a chat with Mam. This annoys Roger because he is a stickler for time and hates me being late. He expects me home and ready to go out by six thirty on a Saturday. It is ritual that we go to the club, and he has to be one of the first ones in there. I do not rush home, and this causes arguments every week.

  I go to my parents’ as usual the following Saturday, to pick up the children. Mam meets me in the hallway, and she looks concerned. She tells me that Jonah is sleeping on the settee, and she thinks he is drunk! I ask, “What makes you think that?” She tells me that he came in and said he was tired and was going for a lie down, but he had better lie on his side in case he is sick. I look into the room. Jonah is snoring on the settee.

  Mam ushers me into the dining room and puts the kettle on. Dad is sat at the table, listening to his music; he loves jazz, Michael Buble, Queen, and any country music. We have been brought up with this playing in the background. Mam loves her soaps on the telly and hates music. Dad tells me his version of what Jonah was like when he came through the door. I tell Dad that he shouldn’t laugh and that I am going to give Jonah a row when he wakes up. Lorna walks in, and Mam tells her about Jonah. She thinks it’s funny and reminds me of what we used to get up to at his age. I tell her to be quiet and not repeat everything I did to the kids all the time. She has already told them about my market days and the toilet experience, and I could kill her for that. However, she has always kept my darkest secret.

  An hour or so later, Jonah stirs, and I decide it is time to have the chat. I ask him if he has been drinking, and he denies it. I tell him that we can all see that he has, and we can smell it on him. Lorna, Mam, and Dad are in the room. I am bad cop, and they are standing behind trying not to laugh.

  I ask him where he got the drink from. Eventually he gives in and explains that he and all his mates supplied a bottle each. He got his from his nan’s, a flagon of Strongbow. His one friend had a bottle of Lambrini, another one had four cans of lager, and the last friend had a bottle of vodka. They went up the mountain for the day to drink it.

  I comment, “Oh, great. And you have mixed your drinks!”

  He replies, “No, no! I drunk them all separately!” I am speechless. Lorna, Mam, and Dad are hysterical. Jonah goes to the bathroom to be sick. I tell them to stop laughing because I have to punish him. Lorna reminds me that he is in the bathroom spewing; that, along with the hangover he is going to have, is punishment enough. I eventually agree. We decide to leave him at my parents’ to sleep it off. I don’t want Roger to find out, giving him something else to moan about.

  We have been living with Roger for seven months now, and the children are still asking me about the puppy they were promised. Every time I bring the subject up with Roger, he tells me that we have a dog. He has a four-year-old mongrel called Patch. I remind him that I promised them a puppy. I have brought the children up to understand that if I promise them something and can afford it, they will have it. I have never gone back on my word, and I don’t intend to start now. I have a plan!

  On the school run, the children and I discuss what puppy they would like. I remind them (especially Polly) not to mention it to Roger. Eligh tells me he wants a Bassett Hound, and the others are not bothered. We cannot find a Bassett Hound breeder in the local area, so we choose another breed. Eligh is adamant that he is naming the dog, and it will be his. He has wanted a dog of his own for years. I drop off the children at school and head to work. It has been quiet in work all week, so I have spent spare time looking in the free ads for puppies. The other condition from Eligh is that it is a boy.

  Lorna comes into the shop for a chat, and I tell her my plan.

  Lorna loves animals and offers to help. I call the breeder and ask if she has any boys left. She has one and describes the pup, and I tell her I will have him. We arrange to meet her the next day at a petrol station, which is halfway, to collect him. Lorna and her friend offer to pick up the puppy for me and take it to her house.

  The following morning, I give her the money for the pup and tell her I will ring Roger and explain that Lorna has a friend who is getting rid of a pedigree puppy because she and her partner have split up, and she has to move back home. I will say that her younger brother is allergic to dogs, so she has to find him a home, and she wants fifty pounds for the puppy. We agree not to tell the children about the plan.

  Lorna thinks I am mad and questions what we are going to do with the puppy if he says no. I tell her to stop worrying. The only other people who know about the plan are my parents, Sophie, and Andy.

  I ring Roger and explain the plight of this poor girl and the opportunity of a bargain. He is a miser and cannot resist. He replies that if Lorna brings the puppy down tonight, he will have a look at him. Lorna has already left to pick him up. On the way home, I pick up two bottle
s of wine for Roger; he is more agreeable when he is drunk.

  Three hours later, Roger has drunk a bottle of wine and is happy. Lorna arrives with the puppy. Roger is smitten and tells Lorna that he thought it would be a scrawny little thing, but at fifty quid it is a bargain. Lorna is laughing and says she agrees, though she knows he cost me £450. I call the children downstairs before he changes his mind. We have a new puppy, and Eligh names him Fred.

  Although I live with Roger and pay money into a joint account for the bills, he doesn’t know what I earn. My business is just that – mine. He has no say in the running of it and does not get to look at the books. This is handy because I have discovered that Roger is a skinflint, a miser, and one of the tightest men I have ever met. If I have a good week in work, I have to stash money away for a rainy day, in case the children need anything. I am determined that they are not going to suffer financially because of my decision to live with Roger.