Yet, I persisted with the thought that John might have tried to get in touch with me, if only for old times’ sake. His disinterest or avoidance irritated me more than anything else; it hurt me the most. I had overcome the disappointment of the job and friends which I thought were immutably mine. They were the ones’ who had abandoned their bonds of friendship to me. This reasoned acknowledgment had become acceptable and even understandable because I knew they were still part of the shallow world of looks. A fleeting world of illusions, a face in a mirror staring back. Although I did ponder with wild ideas how to get back at these so-called friends of mine, by hurting them as they had hurt me. One idea was to set up my own competing magazine; an idea completely impracticable.
It was anger that made me want to show these working compatriots the spirit of avenging loyalty, but I did not have the money. I only had enough funds to keep me going for the next few months. And if I went to backers, because I did have a good track record and plenty of experience, they would only need to take one look at my face before laughing me out of their office. No, I had to get my face back. This goal resolved me to carry on.
In three months, I had lost the extra weight I had gained in the hospital, and my hair was longer and looking more respectable. I was beginning to resemble a person again. I was beginning to resemble myself. I refused to be broken for I am a fighter. I sooner kill than be killed by life. There are always ways if one was only prepared to look for them; ways to get back on top of life again.
While I was working out in my flat, burning off the unwilling circles still surrounding my schoolboy frame, I began thinking about our old house and if John had sold it. And if it had been at a price that Fiona’s sister could not afford, then obviously there must be some serious money sitting around. Knowing John as I had for those twenty-one years, I knew he would leave the cash in the bank doing nothing, except making only a pittance of interest.
Normally, I would not have pursued this line of thought, I have always been strong in self-pride, but for me, the reality of my situation had changed. And so, had I. I was now experiencing for the first time in my life, desperation. Surely, I reasoned, I deserved at least half of the money. After all, what I paid in when we were married, covered all the food, fuel, and rates. Virtually all the bills except the mortgage. I had talked to my new lawyer about it.
I saw my new lawyer a week later. Her wide eyes were staring at my face. It was obvious to anyone that she was looking at my scars, but they were practically all erased. I had been studying in front of the mirror for hours on end to shade out the red marks, but clearly, from her pertinent scrutiny, I needed more practice.
‘This last year has been a tough time for you.’ She said referring to the ‘last year’ with a wide sweep of her hand which had also unconsciously found its way to her own face. She needed to caress her left cheek for comfort and reassurance that her own ephemeral looks were still intact.
‘It’s in the past now,’ I said encouraged by my confidence. ‘What I want to know is can you find out if John, my husband has sold the house? And if he has, I would like half of the money.’
‘Have you forgotten; you gave up your rights to the house?’ she had been reading the notes, which the other clever lawyer had indelibly left for her to view, and presumably for the rest of the world as well.
I smiled politely; I knew I had to explain myself. ‘I know,’ I said dismissively. ‘But I didn't know this was going to happen to me.’
‘Who can foretell the future?’ she said, this was an absurd remark to make as she looked particularly dazed when she said it.
‘Exactly! Who can tell what the future has in store for us?’
She was swiftly brought to her senses. ‘I’ll see what I can do. I’ll speak to my colleague and see what he can advise. We can appeal to his sentiments on how you had been together all those years.’
I must admit that before she said that, I viewed my hopes as being very slim, but John, I reasoned, if there was anything he had, it was an insurmountable amount of compassion. Dear John, did not the heart of a worded legal lawyer, but inside, there beats the heart of a warm-blooded man. Well, that's what I chose to believe.
The following day, the female lawyer rung me and asked me to come to her office. I was surprised at the speed of her call and then came the possibility that John might have said no. If he did, I would tell him via his lawyer of course, that I would take legal action. I would take him to court. That would put the wind-up him and call him back to attention with thoughts of consideration towards me. It had occurred to me that during our time apart he had become callous, and unjustly selfish.
‘Well?’ I said sitting down, breathless with excitement.
‘I’m afraid that it’s not good news,’ her face was set in a plastic mask.
‘Okay.’ I was preparing myself for the worse and what's more, working myself up into a temper. John, of all people. He owed me. I had given him twenty-one years. Twenty-one years! I had been supporting him, paying off the bills, electric, gas. Okay, so he paid the mortgage...
‘It’s not what you think,’ she continued, her face now beginning to echo the seriousness in her voice.
‘He hasn’t sold the house?’ I was quick on the mark anticipating her answer, that’s why I was so good at my job.
‘No, the house has been sold.’
‘Oh well then do you know that in the last six years, I was the one who was paying all the bills, except the mortgage? I’m entitled…’
‘It’s too late, he’s dead…’
‘Dead broke you mean, yes, I’ve heard that one before.’ It seemed now that John would do anything to stop paying me back.
‘No, I mean it. He has been dead for nine months.’
‘Dead?’
‘Yes.’
‘But that’s impossible. He can’t be dead. Is this a joke? Okay then, what did he die of?’
‘A heart-attack Richard told me, and there were other complications apparently. Did you know he had a peptic ulcer? It was caused by too much stress.’
‘I know about peptic ulcers.’ Did she think I was an idiot? ‘But then why wasn’t I told about it beforehand I mean, I was his wife for goodness sake.’ It was such a cheek, it smelt of a conspiracy by the lawyer. ‘No, I can’t believe it. John dead? But he hardly did anything. Played golf at weekends, one can scarcely call that stress.’
‘I’m afraid then that you couldn’t have known about his other life and business?’
‘I know everything there is to know about John’s business. There really is not that much to know about John.’ I rambled on feeling absolutely certain that Richard had put John up to this, probably. I could just see those two sitting together, Richard, his good friend, and lawyer telling him what to say and John, reluctant, but allowing Richard to lead him on. Oh yes, John certainly must have made a profit, but now I want half of it.
‘He’s been living with a woman. She moved in when you moved out. Well actually, they already had a place together, that’s why he sold the house.’
‘The extra cash I suppose. And where is John buried?’ I was playing along with her; I knew that she was lying.
‘He’s not.’
‘Ah-ha! I’m right. He’s not dead then, is he?’
‘He was cremated. His ashes were scattered at sea from his yacht.’
‘Yacht? Oh, that’s very convenient, isn’t it? John, by the way, is afraid of deep water.’
‘That’s what he wanted you to believe. The fact is he has been very clever in his dealings with you. He led a split life which you didn’t know about. He has been with this woman, his partner for seven years.’
‘I don’t believe you. John is embarrassed about being around other women, he blushes.’
‘I know you find this hard to swallow, but the truth is your ex-husband John is really, and without question, not only your ex but also, your late husband. He was leading a double life and apparently you fell for it. He allowed you to, let me see.�
�� She looked at her notes. ‘Think ‘that he was boring’ this was the phrase you used to the previous lawyer. Your ex-husband was in truth, doing very well in life, although he permitted you to think differently. He bought outright the company that he was working for, and became highly successful, very clever and with you, it seems, very patient. He died extremely rich, leaving all his money to his partner, whom I understand he wanted to marry while he was still married to you. And apparently, the reason you never caught on to what he was doing was that he did not want you to. He took you for a ride. He didn't want you to get half of the money.’ And then the lawyer looked away. ‘He didn't want you to have anything.’
‘But I don’t understand.’
‘I’m so sorry, but if I had known about your late ex-husband’s interests, I would have fought for your share of the money.’
‘So, John is really dead?’
‘Yes, I am so sorry.’
‘But I was going to… I hate him! He was playing a trick on me then?’
‘Yes.’
‘But I thought he was boring. He was boring to me. Why? Didn’t he love me?’
She shrugged. ‘You got divorced. You had obviously fallen out of love with him and presumably, he fell out of love with you.’
‘And he kept this all from me? A secret? Well, I’m glad he’s dead, he deserved it. Was he in pain when he died? A great deal of pain? Did he die in agony? Oh, I jolly well hope so.’
She looked surprised at the expression of expectation in my voice. I don’t know why she looked astonished, surely if she had been in my place, she would have wanted him to suffer.
‘And this female, apparently his mistress, did she get everything?’
‘Yes, everything.’
‘Was it a great deal?’
‘Apparently so, I believe it was somewhere in the region of seven figures.’
‘John? A millionaire? Are you sure this is the right person we are talking about?’
‘If I could put the clock back and change everything, I would. But your ex-husband now being dead, well, we don’t have a case. You could try it in court, but it would cost you a small fortune. I don’t recommend it though. Take my advice, forget about him, put him and your relationship in the past. You are still young enough to make something of your life. You are a clever woman.’
‘Obviously not clever enough. What about my face? I needed the money to put it right. John should not have done this to me.’
‘What die, or get rich?’
‘I’m sure all this is a plot or something,’ I said this more to myself than for her, I wasn't expecting any compassion or sanity from her.
‘It sounds like you still love him.’ She made an amateur analysis of my state of mind with an additional dose of free empathy.
‘Love him? I hate him! I want revenge!’
‘Well, it’s too late now.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure.’
Of all the things I had prepared myself for concerning this meeting, I never thought the man I had been married to for all those years, had been secretly carrying on with someone else. How was it possible I never spotted it? Me, clever? What a joke. Well, John certainly knew how to play me. I had been a toy in his hands and I never saw it. Oh, what a fool. And she thinks I still have feelings for him. What a gag. Well, this joke is on me. But John, it won’t be on me forever now that I’ve found you out. This is war.
6
John’s lawyer was not going to divulge the information on John’s other home. An ex-wife wanting to know where her ex-husband lived would; I think to be suspicious, especially if the divorce hadn’t been completely amicable. Yet, this wasn’t going to stump me. I had a brilliant idea. Get in touch with the estate agents who sold the house and tell them that I was employed by the new residents and that while I was tidying up, I had come across a gold watch bearing the inscription, ‘to John with love.’
Confident and pleased with myself, I rung a wily estate agent. ‘Bring it into the office,’ he said and he would make certain their client would receive it.
‘I can’t do that,’ I said, I tweaked on to how to play the game. ‘I’m not saying I distrust anybody, but things can go missing in an office.’
There was silence at first. Then someone whispered, ‘She wants a reward.’ I grinned, I did indeed.
‘Would you mind giving me your telephone number, and I’ll get my client to contact you,’ he asked a now in a prim and superior voice. No, I did not mind, I gave them my cellphone number and left it at that.
Would John’s mistress contact me or not? Only time would tell. I speculated that she might not care if she was now very rich. But the inscription itself, this might interest her.
That evening, the telephone rang. I waited for a few seconds before answering. And then I picked up the receiver and said hello.
For those first few seconds of patient and interesting listening, I wasn't sure what I was hearing, if the voice was real or not. A woman talking like a child told me that she was Mrs. Boreman.
The first reaction was outrage. I nearly blurted out that this was a lie; John had not married her yet. I was Mrs. Boreman and she could never be. Even divorced I still had more rights to his name than she did. Yet, somehow, I managed uncharacteristically to hold my tongue, which if you knew me well is something for me. I had always believed in speaking my mind. It is amazing the resources one finds within oneself when one’s back is against the wall, when wanting and getting makes for good partners. I am not a greedy person, but half of the money will be mine.
In my most pleasant voice, I answered. ‘Yes Mrs. Boreman, what can I do for you?’
‘Robbie gave me your telephone number, he said that you had something belonging to my late hubby.’ Why did she sound so unreal, but this girlish voice had charmed John and probably lots of other men?
‘Oh dear, did you say your late husband?
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry. What a shock it must have been to hear that I found your late husband’s watch?’
‘Yes. But I’m not so sad now. I don’t weep as much as when it…’ she wobbled as if overwhelmed by the emotion, giving the illusion that tears were about to burst from her.
‘How awful for you.’
‘Yes. But everyone’s been so kind, so helpful but it’s not the same as having my Johnikins around.’
‘No, of course not.’ Johnnykins – Yuk. How can a grown man allow himself to be called that, as if he were some sort of lap dog? This was something we agreed upon when John and I first married, and that I was never to call him anything other than John. ‘How long ago did your husband pass away?’ I hesitated to say the word die because I still had not got used to the idea that I would never see him again, even though he played that dreadful trick on me.
I heard her counting on her fingers. ‘Nine months I think.’
‘Only nine months. How brave you are.’
‘Yes, that’s what all our friends say.’
‘That’s nice ─ that you have so many friends.’ For the John that I knew had been the most anti-social man I had ever come across, but now I knew the reason why.
‘Yes. But often I think they really don’t understand I mean Johnnykins really and truly loved me. He said that I was all he had ever dreamt of. I was his fairy princess, his little doll. Isn’t that nice?’
‘That’s beautiful,’ I said feeling the nausea of sentimentality.
‘Yes.’
‘But I know what you mean.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes, about the great loss you have undergone and people not understanding.’ If only she realized that I had been talking about myself. ‘No matter what people say, it’s never the same, is it? And although people try to be kind and tell you such things like, time is a great healer, and you will get over it. It never feels like that, does it?’
‘Wow, you are the first person who really understands me. What did you say your first name was?’
I had to thi
nk quickly. I had to decide whether it would be wise to tell her my real name or not ─ she might have heard of me from John. ‘Ginny,’ I said.
‘Ginny,’ she repeated. ‘Mine’s Angel.’
‘Angel, what a beautiful name.’ I was on my best behavior. I was not going to say, you must be joking.
‘Yes, that’s what Johnnykins always used to say.’
‘I’m so sorry this has happened to you; you sound so young.’ Infantile, I thought. ‘So sweet. I bet you look very, very pretty and very, very young.’
She giggled. ‘Yes, everyone says I look too young to be a wife and a mother.’
‘A mother?’
‘Yes,’ she giggled again.
‘No, I don’t believe it.’ And I didn’t, my stomach reached up to my mouth. John was of the same opinion as me, neither of us wanted children our careers we told each other, came first. And apart from that, he told me he was sterile. He had had the mumps as an adult. ‘But that’s wonderful for you. It must be something to remember him by.’ I answered after my interminable silence.
‘Well, not really. The baby keeps me awake at night, and although I love my little, whittle Toy-Soldier to bits, I sometimes wish I could have more time to myself. You know, to go out shopping and buy nice clothes and things like I used to?’
‘Yes, I understand’ I said without really thinking what I was saying.
‘You do?’ she squealed with delight.
‘Oh yes. Babies are such hard work; well I should know that.’ An interesting falsehood was being appropriated, developing faster than the blink of an eye. ‘I’ve looked after more babies than I’ve had hot dinners, I’ve done it for most of my life except for this last job. They are adorable and everything, but I think they also can be very hard work. Mothers though, I always think, are not the best people to look after them, they feel too much for their babies, and that’s where they go wrong.’
‘Oh yes, yes, that must be right because when my little Toy-Soldier starts crying, he doesn’t stop, and it makes me feel so upset that strangely, I feel I want to hit him.’
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