I switched my mobile off around teatime. I knew damn well Phil would soon be ringing me and I had no intention of talking to him until I was good and ready. It would take him a while to figure out where I was. I doubted he would remember my mother’s cottage immediately - it had always been my problem and he had had no say or interest in the management of it once he realised I wasn’t going to sell.
He would ring Lucy of course, but she didn’t know where I was either. The note I had left her was deliberately vague. If I had told her where I was going, she would have felt obliged to pass the information on to her father. No, she didn’t need to know.
Tom was still in Germany with his job so I wasn’t too worried about him. He would hear all about it in due course. I knew he wouldn’t be too bothered as long as I was happy - he and I were very close, whereas Lucy was daddy’s girl and always had been. This was largely why she was such a spoilt brat.
It was late by the time I sat down. I had spent a long time cleaning and sorting my meagre belongings out. I had also been shopping for groceries and filled the cupboards with essentials. The dishes had been washed up and the kitchen was tidy.
There was no television in the cottage so I stared sleepily into the fire for entertainment, wrapped up in my thoughts. The surrounding room was rather bare. There were a few pieces of furniture in the cottage, including a bed, but most of the nice items had been sold or removed to our house after mum had passed away. What had been left were all the odds and sods. The settee I was sat on however was comfy enough and I could feel myself nodding off after the pasta I had eaten.
Henry sat in front of the open hearth, washing himself morosely. It wasn’t exactly cold outside, but I had decided to light a fire in an attempt to make myself feel at home. I had found kindling and a sack of coal in the shed outside. It didn’t take a lot of effort to encourage a respectable blaze and before long the fire was crackling away merrily.
The pad of paper on my knee lay untouched. My plan had been to make a list of everything I needed to do tomorrow. The trouble was there was so MUCH to do, and it was a little overwhelming. I couldn’t quite get my head around the idea that I was a self-sufficient woman again. In all honesty, now that the adrenaline had worn off, I was scared witless.
The thought of being responsible for my own ship was daunting. For more than half of my adult life I had relinquished most of the major decisions to my husband. Now they were all my own decisions to make and I was beginning to wonder if I was up to the task.
Henry must have sensed my melancholy mood. Unexpectedly, he jumped onto my lap. He looked at me unblinkingly for a moment before settling himself down and purring loudly. I gently rubbed his neck affectionately, stroking his thick fur softly as he rumbled away.
“We’ll be okay, won’t we?” I asked him quietly. He just purred louder and tucked his tail under his bony body. At least one of us hasn’t a care in the world, I thought wryly.
* * * *
The next day, I meandered down the high street, enjoying the sunshine and the sense of freedom in my veins. I had awoken with a sense of excitement, the anticipation of a whole new life spiking my body with delicious tingles of energy. Not even the irate voice mail messages from my beloved husband could spoil my morning.
The first message had sounded concerned: he had anxiously enquired as to where the hell I was.
The next message followed his discovery of my note and was begging me to reconsider my “hasty” decision.
The third and final one came after he had opened the washing machine and found his expensive suits, shrunken beyond repair. That message consisted of a whole string of expletives and I had hit delete immediately.
Catching a glimpse of myself in a shop window, I frowned a little. My brown hair was desperate for a cut; it had grown long and unkempt over the last six months. On impulse I stepped inside a fashionable hair salon and approached the bored looking receptionist. She glanced up from her glossy magazine with a faintly superior expression.
“Can I help you?” she asked snootily.
“I need a hair cut and I was wondering if you could fit me in?” I asked. The young woman looked at me disdainfully and evidently deciding that I was indeed in dire need of help in the looks department, she consulted her appointments book efficiently.
“Actually you’re in luck,” she said. “We had a cancellation and Monica is free in ten minutes. Is that alright for you?”
“Yes, that would be fine!” I smiled gratefully.
The woman took my coat and teetered off to make me a coffee while I waited. Idly I picked up a style magazine and flicked through it, admiring the glamorous clothes and hairstyles. I was only forty-four, but sometimes I felt fifty-four. It was high time I had a makeover I decided firmly. It was long overdue.
Two hours later I walked out of the salon a whole new woman. My hair had been cut into a flattering bob and was now streaked with amber highlights. I looked a good ten years younger and even the snotty girl on the reception was stunned into momentary silence. Monica had done a wonderful job and I didn’t hesitate to tip her handsomely.
“Good luck,” she smiled as I thanked her warmly and left the shop. We had spent an interesting two hours talking about men and I had learned all about the shameful treatment she had received at the hands of her ex-husband. I felt extremely lucky that at least I had a house of my own and money in the bank. She had been left with three kids and a mountain of debt when her ex walked out on her. Despite all this, she wasn’t bitter. I had to admire her; in her shoes I would have shot the bugger if I had caught up with him.
I felt like a million dollars as I walked down the high street. The only thing spoiling my image was my less than glamorous outfit. This was soon remedied by an expensive shopping spree in a boutique further down. Many times I had admired the beautiful clothes in the window. Many times I had carried on walking, seeing no point in adorning myself in pretty casuals when my husband didn’t even notice the time I dyed my hair blonde.
It took him a good few days to comment on that, the only thing he said being, “Do you really think it suits you?” in a supercilious way.
I knew it didn’t suit me but that was hardly the point, was it? The only reason I had done it was to try and make myself more attractive to him. I knew damned well he had a thing for blonde bimbos - I reasoned that if only I looked like a bimbo, maybe he would actually want to make love to me occasionally. I wasn’t greedy; once in a blue moon would have sufficed.
Of course, at that point I hadn’t discovered the affair. I was still under the illusion that my husband was in love with me, albeit in a distracted sort of way. How naïve I was. Blonde bimbo Margaret was the only one getting any action it seemed. Phil certainly found her peroxide hair alluring enough to want to fuck her.
The saleslady with the perfectly coiffed hair was more than happy to advise me on a new look. I tried on dozens of outfits and eventually settled on a few mix and match ensembles. They were chic and fashionable. Just what I needed after years spent in scruffy jeans and tracksuits.
At some point I was going to have to find another job and I doubted my usual attire would be very suitable for anything other than ‘cleaner’. I had planned on setting my sights a little higher than that and some new clothes would give me some much needed self confidence.
I handed over my visa card and tried not to think about the cost. I knew I wasn’t financially destitute, but I couldn’t afford to be too much of a spendthrift. It didn’t stop me enjoying the moment however. I then treated myself to a cream cake and a pot of tea in Jasmine’s Café. Make the most of this, I thought happily. Penny pinching could start tomorrow.
Chapter 3
The next few days whizzed by in a mindless blur. I cleaned my cottage from top to bottom in a frenzy of activity. By the time I had finished, surfaces were gleaming and spiders had run in terror of the vacuum cleaner.
Henry followed me around mournfully, occasionally pausing to stare hopefully out through
the windows at the cocky birds hopping about in the garden. They were fortunately oblivious to the black feline assassin watching them hungrily, his tail twitching from side to side in coiled excitement. I felt rather sorry for them - they had no idea what was lying in wait.
The house was actually beginning to feel like a home now. It was a far cry from what I had left behind, but I didn’t care. It was mine and that was all that mattered.
Lucy had rung me the night before. She had sounded worried about me and I sensed that underneath the careful questioning, she clearly thought I was having some kind of mental breakdown.
“Are you sure you are okay?” she had asked for the millionth time.
“Yes darling, I’m fine,” I told her patiently. “I will be around to see you soon; I’m just kind of busy at the moment.”
“Dad is really upset you know…”
I managed to stifle a snort of disbelief. The only reason he was upset was because he now had to cook his own dinners!
“He’ll survive,” I commented dryly.
I ended the call then. I didn’t want to answer any more of her questions and I knew that she was siding with her father as always. I could sense the disapproval coming off her in waves and I wasn’t about to feel guilty when I had done nothing wrong.
Lucy was a grown woman now; she could deal with it. I had enough of my own problems to worry about and I wasn’t about to lose any sleep over Phil. Margaret was probably already there providing consolatory blowjobs.
My appointment with a divorce solicitor was the next day. We discussed all possible options regarding my marriage and despite the man’s entreaties to try for reconciliation with Phil, I was adamant that there was no point. I had made my mind up and even if Phil spent the rest of our lives kissing my arse, I couldn’t forgive him.
Eventually the oily little man agreed to write a letter to Phil explaining that I was filing for divorce and advising him to seek legal advice. I had no intention of taking him for every penny, but I wasn’t about to lie down and let him shaft me either. I left the office feeling rather sad that twenty-four years of marriage could be boiled down to a list of assets.
I bought the local paper on my way home and later that afternoon, I sat in my overgrown garden with a cup of tea and scanned the ‘situations vacant’ section. It was rather disheartening to realise that there was very little in the way of gainful employment for a woman of my age and relative inexperience.
My bookkeeping skills were much too rusty to be useful to me anymore. Accounts jobs required experience in computerised packages these days and I would have to retrain if I wanted to work in that field again.
I gave up on the job section and started looking at the services offered page. The trees at the end of the garden were seriously overgrown and I needed a tree surgeon to lop a few branches off before the next high winds dropped them on to the roof of my house.
A small advert offering ‘Garden Services’ caught my eye and I rang the number listed. It went to an answer phone and I left my name and number before promptly forgetting about it. Hopefully the man would be in touch soon.
* * * *
Several times Phil tried to call me on my mobile, but I didn’t answer. I had nothing to say to him so why waste my time? I went to the bank only to find he had cleared out the joint current account. I wasn’t all that surprised really - that was the kind of man he was. Luckily I had made a transfer to my own account several days prior to leaving. He certainly didn’t get all of our money.
I had been to see Lucy and we talked about things. She was not happy with me and spent all the time trying to persuade me to return to her father. It didn’t matter what I said, she just would not listen to me.
“But Mum, surely you can forgive him?”
“Why should I?” I replied, struggling to retain my temper.
“Because he’s my father and I won’t want to be the product of a broken family!” she said plaintively.
Honestly, I thought in irritation. She was no longer a little girl - she was a married woman with a daughter of her own; surely she could sympathise?
“Lucy,” I said patiently. “Your father has been cheating on me for years. Do you not think that I deserve a little better?”
She was quiet for a moment. “I suppose so…but Dad loves you still - I know he does! If he said he was sorry, couldn’t you try again?” Her eyes welled up with tears and I sighed helplessly.
“He isn’t sorry though. The only thing he’s sorry about is the fact I found out!” There was just no getting through to her. I had expected this - she had always put him on a pedestal and nothing was likely to change that. I was fighting a losing battle and I knew it.
“Well I told Tom; I rang him last night because I thought he should know.” She sniffed and stared at me defiantly, daring me to be cross with her for telling Tom before I had had the chance to. “Maybe he can talk some sense into you!”
Inwardly I sighed. I had hoped to explain things myself before Lucy filled his head with hysterical nonsense. I should have known she would beat me to it.
By the time I left my daughters house, I felt like I had gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson. At the end, we had agreed to differ on whether I should go home to her father. She was firmly convinced I was making a huge mistake and I was just as convinced that I wasn’t. Stalemate really. I had tried, I really had. There was just no getting through to her.
* * * *
The sweat trickled down uncomfortably between my breasts as I knelt amongst the razor sharp brambles. My small garden fork was pretty damned useless in the face of such a rampant weed explosion, but I was determined to have the garden back to its former glory eventually.
Henry sat on the crumbling wall, observing me with a contemptuous expression on his furry face. He was idly watching the birds, feigning indifference as cats do. I knew from the relaxed way he sat, this was only a ploy to lull his feathered friends into a false sense of security before he struck with the deadly accuracy of a scud missile.
So far, since he had been allowed his freedom, the death toll was catastrophically high. I had found umpteen corpses on the back door step in last three days. Birds, mice, and shrews had all fallen victim to the black claws of death. I figured before the summer was over, the local small animal and bird population would probably be facing extinction.
Meanwhile, my lovable cat washed himself and watched me digging. I had been out here for hours so far and hadn’t really made much headway. It was going to be a long slog, but I needed the distraction. Phil had at least given up ringing me; all our communication was now via letters between our solicitors. This suited me - I didn’t want a confrontation.
There was the sound of an engine beyond the wall and I glanced up curiously. A battered looking pick-up truck pulled up in front of my cottage. Faded letters on the side of the chipped red paintwork told me it was the Garden Services man - Ryan. He had returned my call a couple of days previously, promising to stop by when he had a free moment and check out the work that I required.
I rubbed my stiff neck as I stood up, wincing at the cracking sound in my knee. All of a sudden, I wished I were dressed in something more appealing than my scruffy shorts and filthy vest t-shirt.
The man was gorgeous. His dirty blonde hair curled over the collar of his tee shirt and his blue eyes twinkled at me in faint amusement. I could hardly tear my feverish gaze away from his broadly muscular chest and for a moment, I struggled to say anything remotely intelligent.
He took pity on me and commented, “Needs some work doesn’t it?” as he slowly he took in the nettles, brambles and massive docks whilst I regained my sensibilities.
“Um yeah, it’s been neglected for too long. I don’t mind the work though - keeps me busy!”
He grinned at me, the smile crinkling the corners of his eyes appealingly. “Well, can I have a look at the trees you want trimming?” he asked in amusement, when it was apparent that I wasn’t going to volunteer to show him anytime soon.
“Yes, sorry!” I blushed, much to my chagrin, and quickly turned away from him in embarrassment, hoping he hadn’t noticed my red cheeks. He followed me around the side and through the gate that hung off its hinges.
The back garden was far worse than the front and he stood silently taking it all in. I knew that I had my work cut out here. The easiest option would probably be to hire an excavator and dig the whole lot up - but I loved all the apple trees and ancient shrubs. It would be sacrilege to tear them out and replace them with pristine turf or some such nonsense.
“It could be a fine garden you know,” Ryan said quietly. “I assume the trees along the back are the ones you want the work on?”
I nodded. “How much will it cost?”
“Shouldn’t be too much; would take a few hours and I would chip the timber removed so you can use it in the garden if you like. What about the rest of the garden - how are you going to manage that? Pardon me for saying, but you don’t look hefty enough to be digging some of those huge weeds out!”
His gaze slid down my body for a heated moment and I felt the warmth spreading though my limbs. He was right of course; I was not going to find it easy doing the hard labour but I could hardly ask Phil for help could I?
“I guess I’ll have to manage…” My voice trailed off and I suddenly realised what a mammoth task I was taking on.
“I could help you if you like?” he offered.
“That would be great, but I can’t really afford to pay you for all your time,” I said regretfully.
“No charge,” he said, once more dropping his eyes into my cleavage.
I shivered with unexpected desire and tried desperately not to imagine what he looked like beneath his tight jeans and t-shirt. It had been a long time since I had been touched in that way and I could feel my hungry body responding to the sexual vibes emanating from this hunk of a man.
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