A couple of days after I moved in, Sarah managed to set up an appointment for me with the solicitor from Bay Trade, a business club she attended, including negotiation of a large discount in exchange for me giving some confidence coaching to his painfully shy ten-year-old son.
Sitting in front of a stranger one evening and saying, ‘I want to divorce my husband,’ felt very surreal, but Richard was reassuring and guided me through every step of the process. Providing Gary didn’t dispute things, it should be fairly straightforward. Surely he wouldn’t dispute it. How could he?
At school, I received some amazing news. Graham had secretly nominated me for ‘Exceptional Teacher of the Year’ for my work on the EGO programme and I was invited at very short notice to attend a black-tie dinner. To my surprise, I won the award for Yorkshire. Clutching the glass plaque as cameras flashed, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The EGO programme had been the catalyst that turned Gary’s attentions elsewhere, yet it had also brought a close to a sham marriage. Ultimately that had to be a good thing, hadn’t it? A marriage built on lies wasn’t a marriage at all.
I must have gone through every sort of emotion during that first fortnight at Seashell Cottage. Some nights I drifted off to sleep feeling really positive about the future. Other nights, I sobbed myself to sleep instead. I missed Gary. I missed his friendship. I missed his presence. I missed our routines. I missed giggling with him over some of the hilarious mistakes some of my students made in their homework, and I missed hearing about the latest embarrassing medical complaint he’d encountered or the ridiculous ailments dreamt up by his hypochondriac patients. Most of all, I missed the possibilities that our future together had held. The longing for a baby grew stronger every day, perhaps because of the Gary-shaped gap in my life.
On the Sunday of the final weekend in June, three weeks after Gary’s betrayal, I found myself drawn to my laptop to research my options. Insemination. Adoption. Fostering. What a minefield! I read several pages on insemination, shaking my head. Aside from the expense and the complications brought on by legislative changes, could I really start a life using a donation from a stranger? It felt wrong considering anyone other than Gary as the father of my children.
I gazed down at the engagement, wedding, and eternity rings that I still wore. When Gary had placed each of them on my finger, I’d truly been happy and in love. I’d believed we were two who would become three, four, five… To me, those three bands symbolised our love and our intention to create new life. The love had gone – or at least it had on his part (if it had ever been there) – but I hadn’t been able to bring myself to remove the rings. Was it because I still saw Gary as the father of my children? I’d come to terms with him not being my husband… sort of… but until I came to terms with him not being the father to my children, I couldn’t think about other options. And I couldn’t remove the rings.
I closed my laptop and went for another long walk, on my own this time, to try to clear my head. I have no idea whether I did it consciously or unconsciously, but I found myself outside the community centre where my former counsellor, Jem, ran a Sunday morning yoga class.
‘Elise! How wonderful to see you.’ Jem kissed me on one cheek then the other when he emerged from the building.
I sat down on the bench again. ‘I’m sorry for turning up like this. I should have phoned and made a proper appointment.’
He sat beside me and ran his fingers down his strawberry-blond goatee while he studied my face. ‘I’ve been thinking about you a lot this week. I had a feeling I’d see you soon.’ Jem had always made it clear that he wasn’t officially psychic, but he did possess some form of sixth sense. ‘It’s not about your mother this time, is it?’
I sat on my hands and swayed back and forth a couple of times. ‘No. Gary and I have split up.’
‘He’s seeing someone else?’
‘Yes. A man.’
‘Oh.’ Jem stood up and reached for my hand to help me to my feet. ‘I have an hour. Do you want to come to the office to talk about it?’
‘Yes please. I’m not coping very well. I need your help.’
On the Thursday night that week, a text arrived:
✉︎ From Gary
Please can we meet at the house later tonight? I need to talk to you. It’s urgent
I pushed aside my half-eaten bowl of risotto and sighed as I stared at the message. What did he want?
‘I take it that’s from Gary,’ Kay said.
‘How did you guess? He wants me to go to the house tonight. Says it’s urgent.’
‘Are you going to go?’
I shrugged. ‘I suppose I should. I’ve managed to avoid anything face to face since I moved out, and I’ve always known we’d have to talk eventually.’
‘Could be a good chance to tell him you want a divorce,’ she suggested.
I’d asked Richard to hold off sending Gary a letter, feeling that I should give the news in person. ‘You’re right. It all seems so final, though. Oh gosh, what if he wants to tell me that he’s going to start divorce proceedings?’ My stomach churned at the thought of another nail in the coffin if he divorced me rather than the other way round.
‘I don’t think he’d do that. He knows it’s your place to initiate things.’
‘Maybe he wants to discuss the house,’ I said. ‘Maybe he wants to put it on the market. It’s a family home. It’s far too big for just him. Unless he wants Rob to…’ I couldn’t bear the thought of Gary having his happily ever after with someone else in the house we chose, surrounded by our belongings. It was abundantly clear now that we hadn’t been heading for our own happily ever after, but that didn’t stop it hurting that he might be heading for his while I still struggled to get over our marriage being a lie.
Kay put her fork down and smiled reassuringly. ‘I’m sure it’s not that, sweetheart. I don’t think Gary would move Rob in. Not yet. It’s too soon. He’ll know that. Although you do know it may happen one day, don’t you?’
Picking up my fork again, I stabbed at a mushroom. ‘I know. It’s just not a reality with which I thought I’d be faced.’
‘I’m sure it will be about selling the house,’ Kay said. ‘What else could it be?’
I parked Bertie on the drive next to the Lexus and slowly walked towards the front door. It felt weird being back home, knowing it wasn’t my home anymore.
Gary must have been watching for me as the door flung open. ‘Li!’ He held out his arms to give me a hug, but I stepped backwards.
‘I’d prefer if you called me Elise from now on.’
‘Oh. Okay. I’m glad you came, Li… Elise. Come in. Ignore the mess.’
My heart raced as I stopped into the hall, an uncomfortable feeling in my gut, worried that I might see signs of Rob all over my former home. But there was nothing to suggest he’d moved in. Instead, I frowned at the unprecedented sight of several pairs of shoes and trainers discarded on the floor instead of neatly stacked on the shoe-rack. Gary must be really struggling if he’d veered from his neat-freak status. The thought gave me a little comfort and satisfaction, and then I felt guilty for being so mean.