Sarah Tucker - The Last Year Of Being Married

Kim—‘I’m sorry, Sarah. But I can’t help thinking that Paul—love him though you think you do at the moment—has done you a huge favour. So has this other woman. Fuck, she’s got a man who’s a baby—a rich baby, but a baby nonetheless. With emotional baggage.

You don’t need that. You’ve got your life to lead and—fuck it, girl—you’re thirty-seven and look ten years younger. Even if this girl is years younger than you she’ll have to go some way to look as good as you. You’ve come a long way, despite little support from your husband, family or his family, and you’ve given him a wonderful son. Where did that blip occur? You obviously had sex once.’

Sarah—‘During a week in Mauritius.’

Kim—‘How the fuck did he expect to have children if he didn’t sleep with you, for Christ’s sake?’

Sarah—‘I know, I know. But he claimed I made him impotent. The abortions. Telling him about John on our honeymoon. Then finding out about Stephen and the shower. He struggled to deal with it and he couldn’t.’

Kim—‘All this is supposition, Sarah.’

Sarah—‘It has to be. The guy won’t talk to me. He tells me not to talk to him. Not to e-mail him at work. Not to text him. He hides his mobile phone, which makes me think he’s sending and receiving intimate love messages from this girl, and it’s driving me nuts.’

Kim—‘That’s jealousy. That’s pride speaking, not love.’

Sarah—‘I know, and I have to deal with it.’

Kim—‘You don’t want him, Sarah. You just wish it hadn’t happened this way.’

Sarah—‘Maybe. But at the moment I’m reeling, Kim, and I don’t know where I stand legally about leaving the house. Should I stay or go?’

Kim—‘Then find out. Go and see bloody good solicitors and listen to what they say. They strip the emotion and look at the facts, which is what the court will do. And they can be as ruthless as Paul—at this moment you can’t. I could be wrong, but I think from the sound of it Paul is on a mission, and he wants out. He’s a banker, a trader, and they’re compulsive about getting closure quickly. Just surprises me he hasn’t got the papers for a divorce signed up already.’

Sarah—‘Perhaps he wants to wear me down emotionally first. I don’t know, perhaps you’re right. Only I don’t know any good solicitors. I know—I’ll contact Jane. She’s been through all of this recently with her ex—Pierce. He works with Paul. It’s a bit incestuous, but Jane knows her business, knows Paul, and thinks straight. Perhaps I can use her solicitor.’

Kim—‘Sounds good to me. Well, my love, I’ve been here for fifteen minutes and they haven’t asked what we want to eat and I’m fucking starving. Where’s this Duncan, then? Where’s my chips?’

Leaning on the wrong shoulder

Café Nero. Liverpool Street Station. Three p.m. Watching all the bankers go by with their secretaries, or maybe their work colleagues. Wonder if one of them will be Paul. And her .

Waiting for Jane, thirty-six, buzzy, brilliant, beautiful, and ex-wife of Pierce. Always has a mobile in her hand. Pierce told Paul she even took calls while he was going down on her. Chief accountant at Malvern & Duff, merchant bank. Not a conventional banker’s wife, either. Hence divorce a year before. She lost two stone, if I remember rightly. Pierce had to take a month’s leave with a suspected nervous breakdown. She’s met someone else. Getting married next year. Pierce was always meeting someone else, but probably won’t ever again—get married, that is.

Paul and I got Pierce’s side of the story. Never knew hers. But, knowing Pierce, hers is probably a more honest version. Perhaps will find out now. She’s agreed to meet me between meetings. I’ve got fifteen minutes. I’ve briefed her already about Paul. About the affair. About the history. And about the divorce.

I’m early again. Sit and order a black coffee, waiting until Jane arrives.

She’s on time, smiling, striding towards me, turning heads in her tight white cotton Paul Smith blouse, just—above-the-knee skirt and kitten heels. Legs up to armpits. Mobile in one hand. Purse in the other.

She hugs me, and looks me up and down a few times.

Jane—‘Hello, Sarah. See you’re feeling it, then? Can’t eat anything?’

Sarah—‘No. Bit like you were.’

Jane—‘It will pass. You’ll look back on this in two years’time and think, Hey, wish I could lose weight like that when I want to. You will put it back on; don’t worry. But I think you should look healthier and be healthier for Ben. You’ve got to look after him, and to do that well you’ve got to look after yourself well. And, more importantly, be seen to be looking after yourself well.’

Sarah—‘What do you mean—be seen to be looking after myself?’

Jane—‘If it goes to court, you will need to show you’re responsible enough to look after Ben. Fit mentally, financially and physically. Looking like someone who’s just come out of a concentration camp is not a good look. The mother usually gets custody, but I know Paul, and he sees everything as a possession. It’s not just his house and his money, but it’s also his son. So he may fight for custody at some stage.’

Sarah—‘Well, Ben is his son. But Ben is my son too.’

Jane—‘Quite. But he doesn’t see it like that, Sarah. And it’s not his house or his money. It’s your money and your house as well. Remember that. Because the court will remind him of that. The fact he suggested you leave the house makes me think he’s done his research, but you need to see a solicitor to give you all the details, Sarah. Try my solicitor. She’s good.’

Sarah—‘I don’t want to divorce him, Jane. I love him.’

Jane—‘Do you think you can salvage the marriage?’

Sarah—‘Don’t know. I’ve been strong for Ben.’

Jane—‘Well, you have to make your own decision about that, Sarah. And you’re going to hear this from a lot of people, but let me be the first to tell you. You’ve got to move on . For your sake. For Ben’s sake. And for your own sanity.

‘The only role of importance Paul has in your life now is to be a good father to Ben. He’s not been a good husband. Well, he has in some ways. Not in others. And you’re not faultless. But that’s past. You must deal with the present and future. You can do something about those two.

‘Bottom line—he’s admitted he wants out. And, again, I know Paul. He’s stubborn, and once on track he won’t sway from his course. He must provide for you as carer of Ben, and for Ben’s future. That simple. And by suggesting you leave the house it seems to me he wants to short-change you. You know what you’re dealing with. It’s understandable, but ruthless. I need a coffee. I’ll get you a chocolate brownie.’

Jane goes to order coffee and calories while I sit, stunned by the thought Paul might try to take Ben away from me. It makes me feel physically sick.

Jane returns with coffee and no cake.

Jane—‘Ran out of cakes. You would probably throw it up anyway.’

Sarah—‘Do you think he will take Ben away from me?’

Jane—‘He will think about it. But he won’t succeed unless he can prove you’re emotionally unstable and therefore unfit to care for Ben yourself. Of course, he could try to make you emotionally unstable. Or lower your confidence to such a level you feel you can’t look after Ben. Wouldn’t put that past him, Sarah.’

I think I’m going to throw up. Jane continues.

‘I’ll be frank. I like Paul. I like both of you. But it made me very angry when you told me he suggested you move out of the house with Ben. That’s underhanded. That’s mean. That’s a shitty thing to do. I don’t like that. Expect a call from Felicity Shindley-Hinde. She’s my solicitor. Dreadful name, wonderful lady. She did good for me, and may have a recommendation for you. She’s an ace divorce lawyer and you’ll need one. Because Paul’s attitude to money is the same as Pierce’s. He will ruthlessly protect every last penny of his salary. Paul considers the money in the bank to be his money.