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She crashed to sleep after too much wine and awoke at seven o’clock flat out on the sofa. The divorce papers were on the floor; she’d drawn an enormous cock and balls on them, complete with semen droplets spurting from the top. How old was she – thirteen?
What now? She’d planned on being so mature about all this. However much she was hurting inside, she was determined to keep her dignity. Kicking up a fuss would only be counterproductive. And she wasn’t Cheryl Cole fight-fight-fighting for this love, especially after the way Bruce had dumped her, the day after her mother’s funeral, which was something she couldn’t excuse. She’d have respected him more if he’d faced her head on and told her what he’d done, rather than presume the word would eventually get back to her via a third party. It was callous and cruel and, even after all their years together and two children, he’d crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. Or could it?
She had once told him that she would never want to repair their marriage if he was unfaithful. She’d seen what it had done to her own parents’ relationship and she knewshe could never forgive the deception and the lies, the lack of trust. But would she have felt the same if the kids were little? Would she have left the door open then as her mother had for her father, to keep the family unit functioning? Roberta had said to her that she ‘forgave him the first time, it was only fair I let it go’ and Shay hadn’t understood what she meant by that, but she did now. Tit for tat. Except it evened up nothing. It was much easier to think about it objectively than to be living it subjectively, that was for sure. But Bruce was the father of her children and, even though they were grown up, the family would still be fractured and that scared her, made her sad that they had failed. She could understand why her mother had desperately tried to keep holding on to what was slipping through her fingers, knowing it was she who had set that ball rolling in the first place.
She wondered how it had come about between Les and her husband; who had made the first move. Maybe it had started off as an opportunist fling, a ‘bit of strange’, then Les landed the big lottery fish and had woven Disneyland into their affair. They’d always had a laugh together; Les on top form was hilarious, great company. Or maybe it was sex on tap, although Bruce had never really expressed any interest in the sort of adventurous organ-grinding that Les had bragged about having with Morton. She liked sex against trees and in the backs of cars, she had more toys than an X-rated Santa. She’d asked Morton to spank her with a paddle that left the imprint ‘SLUT’ on her bum cheek; she’d made him dress up as Robin Hood and chase her – as Maid Marian – through their field. Shay and Tan had been in stitches at tales of her escapades. Somehow it wasn’t as funny imagining your own husband fastening your best mate to the bed in furry handcuffs, though.
She looked up on the internet what to do when someone had drawn a phallus on divorce papers and, not surprisingly, couldn’t find any guidance. She needed her own solicitor, she decided when she was having a cool shower to try and shift a niggle of a hangover. Yes, Bruce could have his divorce, but not all on his own terms. It would wait, she had other things occupying her mind. But she made her first decisive step towards their dissolution and removed her wedding and engagement rings.
She was just firing off an email to JoMint the social media people asking for a breakdown of the exorbitant invoice they had sent over, when there was a knock on the door. She opened it to find Jonah there on the step.
‘I’m sorry to call unannounced but I don’t have your number and…’ He stalled, scratched his head. ‘This is going to sound really stupid but I wanted to make sure you were still here, because if you took off, I wouldn’t have any way of finding you again.’ He made a face of pain and took a step back. ‘I’ll go. I’m coming across as a nutter.’
Shay laughed. ‘Have you time for a coffee?’
‘Maybe a quick one.’
‘Come on in.’ She stood aside and let him enter. He looked around.
‘This is sweet.’
‘My mum owns… owned it. It’s mine now, but I’m not sure if I’ll sell it or not. I’m just in the process of dealing with all that. Have a seat. Tea or coffee?’
‘Coffee please. Black.’
‘It’s just crappy instant.’
‘I’m not fussy. When did you lose your mum?’
‘Five weeks ago.’ Shay switched on the kettle and took acouple of mugs out of the cupboard. Past tenants must have left them because there was quite a motley collection.
‘I’m sorry to hear that. Must be hard, I can’t imagine.’
‘I’m trying to keep busy,’ replied Shay, ‘and not give myself the space to think about it.’
‘Is your dad still around?’
‘Yes, but he’s in hospital. He had a stroke and can’t recover from it. Sorry, I sound all doom and gloom. I hope yours are okay.’ Jonah’s parents were lovely people, kind, welcoming.
‘Niggles, you know, but they’re all right – touch wood. I enjoyed myself so much yesterday, Shay.’ He smiled at her and she couldn’t believe so many years had passed since he had been her boyfriend. ‘Terri rang me this morning to see how we’d got on and you should have heard her laugh when I told her you thought we were a married couple. She thought she’d told you about Amanda but I guess she was just all over the place to see you.’
‘You get on well, don’t you?’
‘Yeah, she’s a good lass,’ said Jonah, standing to take the mug of coffee from her. ‘You’ll have to come up to the creamery and I’ll give you a guided tour.’
‘I will.’
‘Some of the locals call me Mr Cheese and I’m not sure I like that.’ His smile widened to a grin which mirrored her own.
He noticed the paperwork on the table.
‘Have I disturbed you working?’
‘No, I’ve got more than enough time to do what I need to.’ She sat down opposite him. ‘To tell you the truth, Jonah, I’m building myself up to calling in on Denny’s mum. I don’t know how much of a wild goose chase I’ll be on, but I have to try and talk to her.’
‘I’m not sure how much sense you’ll get out of her but if you want me to come with you, I will.’ He took a sip of coffee. ‘Why now, after all these years?’
‘Oh, it’s a long story, starting with a big orange skip. The short answer is that I realised I’ve never been able to put what happened here behind me. I wish we’d never left Millspring.’
