Caught My Husband Red-Handed

I walked in on my wife, Martha, shouting at me as I tried to straighten myself out of the sheets.

You even with her! she roared. Stephen, have you any sense left at all?

That doesnt count! I muttered from under the duvet. You can be with an exwife!

Actually, you cant, Martha replied.

Sweetheart, I do love you, I tried to smooth it over, but its just a habit

What a habit you have, Martha said, halfdazed.

Can I at least get dressed? my habit whispered.

And you stole my favourite silk set! the details sank in for Martha slowly.

Lovely set, Patricia said brightly. Ill get one just like it!

Take it, Martha snapped, Ill never wear it again!

So, what about getting dressed? Patricia asked again. Im not embarrassed about Stephen, but you, miss

And you didnt feel shy about your own man? Martha snapped back.

Lets not shout, please! Patricia waved a hand. Whos her anyway, after almost twenty years of marriage?

She was my own, my very own exwife.

I pulled the nightclothes over my head, clambered out of the bed and, grabbing Martha by the elbow, tried to usher her out of the bedroom.

Come on, lets talk!

I wont move until shes out of my flat! Martha crossed her arms over her chest. Off you go, lady, run while I still have a shred of respect for your respectable age!

Girl, dont be cheeky! Im only twelve years younger than you! Patricia snapped.

Youll see me start calling you grandma! Martha threatened. Move on! Or do you need a stick? A cane? If you dawdle, theyll hand you crutches at the A&E! And pray its not a baby carriage!

Stephen! Patricia shrieked. Put your wife in a knot!

Sweetheart! I beamed and pulled Martha out of the room.

Better get this old lady out of here, Martha growled, then well talk! I promise!

The scene unfolded like a lowbudget comedy. Martha glared at the trembling pair, I tried to shield Patricia from my wifes fierce gaze with my thin shoulders, while she fumbled with the sheets, tugging at her clothes.

When Patricia finally stopped flaunting her charms, Martha clenched her fists so hard it hurt, trying not to give the unexpected guest any momentum.

The front door slammed shut and Martha snarled:

Clean up after her, and Ill be waiting for you in the kitchen!

Right, right! Coming! I blurted, dashing back to the bedroom to strip the sheets.

And then tidy up! came the voice from the kitchen.

Of course, of course, I gasped, catching my breath.

When I entered the kitchen, I found Martha in tears, quietly weeping by the window.

Sweetheart, I said softly.

How could you? she sobbed. How could you be with her? I might have understood if it was someone else! Its not just painful, its humiliating, especially with her! After everything that happened between us, how could you forgive her?

I didnt mean to I forced a crooked smile. She called, said her son was in trouble

Thats no reason to drag her into our home! Martha erupted. After what she did to you, I wouldnt even consider seeing her again!

It was about the son

Youve told me the same story yourself! She left you in debt! How could you

***

Martha had never been attracted to men much older than herself. Men her own age hardly interested her either. A man five or six years older was just right, but Stephen was fifteen years her senior, and that made a difference.

There was no one in Marthas close circle who was my age. At work she met various men, but that stayed at work. This, though, struck right at the heart.

It was pure chance. We met completely by accident.

I was driving home after a long day when my cars dashboard went dark, the steering wheel felt wooden, yet the vehicle kept coasting forward. Panic hit for a heartbeat, but thank heavens the road was a quiet side street with little traffic.

I coaxed the car onto the verge, hit the handbrake and got out. Like any motorist, I knew something was wrong oil, washer fluid, coolant. Anything beyond that meant a garage.

In a fit of frustration I threw the bonnet open and stared at the engine, my eyes full of bewilderment.

Whats wrong with you? I muttered. We were at the garage yesterday! Why didnt you tell me?

The motor stayed silent. A passerby chuckled, stopped and asked:

Not talking?

Its silent, for the love of I replied automatically.

Let me have a look, the man offered, nudging me aside.

I stepped back. What else could I do? Block him out? If he could fix it, it might be my last hope before a tow truck.

Do you always go to the same garage? he asked.

Yes, three hundred metres from home. Very convenient! I drop it off and pick it up in the morning.

Their service is shoddy, he said with a grin. They never tightened the battery terminal. It fell off, the car died, and theyd have billed you a fortune! Got any tools?

Theres something in the boot, I guessed.

He reattached the terminal, and the engine roared back to life.

I dont know how to thank you, I said.

Its nothing, he waved.

Why so glum? I asked.

Im halfhorse now, he sighed heavily.

Could you drive me home? I pleaded. I was a wreck when the car stopped. Ill even call a cab for you!

I offered him dinner. A cup of tea would have sufficed, but Id prepared a full meal; I lived alone, after all.

Thats how we met.

Over dinner I asked:

Did your car break down?

Why would it? It runs fine, Stephen sighed again. Only my exwife was at the wheel when we split; she took my daughter with her!

Word by word, Martha learned the sad tale of my past.

Id been married to Patricia for almost twenty years. If you count the years we lived together before the wedding, it was twenty exactly.

Wed had the usual ups and downs. We raised a son, thought about getting married again, maybe grandchildren. Nothing extraordinary. Both of us worked, both kept the house, spent summers at the seaside, sometimes helped out at my motherinlaws cottage.

A perfectly ordinary family life.

Then Patricia started complaining that something was missing. What exactly?

Who will understand her?

Sometimes she craved attention, sometimes she felt misunderstood, sometimes her feelings just faded

I started buying her flowers, gifts, I told Martha. Id always done that. I dont know what happened to her.

She first booted me onto the sofa, then began ignoring me, then filed for divorce. I eventually agreed because shed found another man.

Martha nodded sympathetically. She knew where such behaviour came from. She didnt try to lecture me; I kept going.

We had to split the assets after almost twenty years of joint household! And then

The threebedroom house we lived in had originally been a gift to Patricia from her family. It arrived in such a state that we had to strip the concrete and finish the flat from a kit.

While the house was being renovated we stayed in my premarriage flat.

Renovations didnt last long. I was a jackofalltrades.

I did everything myself!

When we finally moved, the old flat was let out for a few extra pounds a month.

I hoped to get something out of that house. The flat Id owned with Patricia before everything went sour was given to my son.

Over the years the flat needed constant repairs, so I took out a large loan to give my son a decent renovation. I covered that loan because, when we bought the car as a family, Patricia had taken out the finance in her name.

Patricia then started talking about buying a cottage. Well pay off the car, then get the cottage, she said. I rearranged my loan repayments to clear the car as soon as possible. There were only three payments left when she filed for divorce.

In the end the court awarded the car to Patricia because the finance was in her name. They didnt split my loan, saying Id taken it out myself for the flats renovation.

I gifted the flat to my son after securing the loan and doing the work. The courts decision left me without the car and a share of the house, because I couldnt prove anything.

Who keeps receipts for twenty years? I was left with a £2million loan on my sons flat.

He could let the flat back to me, so Im not out on the street, Martha suggested.

Ha! Three times! Patricia told my son not to let me back in! She never thought of returning the flat!

Now Im left with a £2million loan and no home. Im crashing on friends sofas, and I might have to declare bankruptcy or move into a council house.

My loan repayments take up 70% of my salary. If wed been married, wed have paid it together, but now

Theres something in a British womans nature a pity for the unfairly wronged. Martha let me stay the night, putting me in the spare room.

In the morning I made breakfast and even washed the dishes afterwards. I even cleaned the stove. I lingered in the flat and two months later I became the husband of the landlady.

Martha was amazed at how interesting I was. Conversation with me was lively books, films, music. In bed I wasnt any less vigorous than her peers.

Her own business helped her clear my loan in two months. She was an entrepreneur, and when she met me she was gearing up for expansion, deciding to wait a little.

At least I helped a husband! she laughed.

My gratitude knew no bounds. Martha never regretted taking the gamble on such an uneven marriage. Money would come; the feeling of care, protection, tenderness and love? Hard to find elsewhere.

She didnt regret it until she found foreign womens coats on the hallway rack and, later, saw photographs of my exwife online. It broke her heart to the point of tears.

She kept her composure around my ex, but

Martha, dont be so upset, I said. It happened, it happened. Twenty years together, not all was bad. It just piled up

Youre a traitor! she spat. You didnt just betray me! You betrayed yourself!

You threw her away, and you forgave her! You never thought of me! When we married, you only had debt! I gave you everything!

I bought the car, cleared your loan, was about to get the flat in your name. And you repay me for everything I did for you with the woman who humiliated you!

I understand, I replied, scratching my head. We were both tired of the marriage. We needed a break.

You handled the property fairly. And thanks for paying off my debt! Ill be grateful for the rest of my life!

Just dont tell anyone Martha said, eyes wide.

Martha, Im sorry, but Im going back to her. We spent so many years together, you cant compare

Martha stared at the floor, studying the linoleum for a moment.

The house keys, the car keys and the credit card on the table! she shouted. And get out of my flat immediately!

What? I stammered.

Nothing! she snapped. If a fool comes in, a fool goes out! Pack your things!

I huffed for effect, but I left that marriage with a profit. Martha cleared my debt, and for that she had my thanks! Most of all, it was for the sake of the family my family with Patricia!

Now I can even think about buying a cottage