A Quick Goodbye: A Farewell from the Car and the Walk Home
He stepped out of the car, kissed his mistress goodbye with lingering affection, then set off home. Once there, he lingered outside the building for a moment, mentally rehearsing how to break the news to his wife. Up the stairs he went, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.
“Hello,” called Edward. “You in, Beatrice?”
“I am,” came his wifes indifferent reply. “Hello. Should I start frying the steaks?”
Edward promised himself hed be directbold and decisive, like a proper Englishman! It was time to end his double life before his mistresss kisses lost their warmth, before he was swallowed again by the drudgery of routine.
“Beatrice,” Edward cleared his throat, “Ive come to say we need to separate.”
Beatrice took the news with surprising calm. Shed always been unshakablehence Edwards affectionate nickname for her: “Frosty Bea.”
“Really?” she said from the kitchen doorway. “Dyou want me to skip frying the steaks, then?”
“Whatever you like,” said Edward. “Fry them, dont fry themIm leaving. Theres someone else.”
Most wives wouldve hurled something at him by now. But Beatrice wasnt most wives.
“Right, you and your dramatics,” she replied. “Did you pick up my boots from the cobblers?”
“No,” Edward faltered. “If its important, I can fetch them now!”
“Oh, Edward,” sighed Beatrice. “Send a fool to fetch boots, and youll get the old ones back.”
Edward was offended. This wasnt how a separation announcement was supposed to go. Where was the emotion? But what else could he expect from a woman called Frosty Bea?
“Beatrice, are you even listening?” he exclaimed. “Im leaving. Im moving in with another woman, and all you care about are boots!”
“Right,” said Beatrice. “Unlike me, you can go wherever you please. Your boots arent at the cobblers. Nothings holding you back.”
Theyd been married for years, yet Edward still couldnt tell if she was serious or sarcastic. Hed fallen for Beatrice back then because of her easygoing nature, her knack for avoiding conflict, and her economical way with words. That, plus her homemaking skills and undeniable charm.
Beatrice was steady, loyal, and unflappablelike an anchor. But now Edward loved another. A burning, forbidden, intoxicating passion! Time to dot the is and cross the ts and leap into a new life.
“Beatrice, I want to thank you for everything, but Im leaving because I love someone else. Not you.”
“Shocking!” Beatrice exclaimed. “You dont love me? What a revelation! My mother fancied the neighbour, my father loved dominoes and whiskey. Look how I turned out.”
Edward knew arguing with Beatrice was pointless. Every word from her carried weight. His initial resolve crumbledhe didnt want a row.
“Youre wonderful, Beatrice,” Edward said, defeated. “But Im in lovewildly, recklessly. Im leaving, understand?”
“Someone else?” she asked. “Is it Emily Fletcher?”
Edward recoiled. He *had* had a fling with Emily last year, but he never thought Beatrice knew!
“How did you?” he began, then stopped. “Never mind. Its not her.”
Beatrice yawned.
“Then its Sophie Aldridge? Youre running off with her?”
A chill ran down Edwards spine. Hed had a thing with Sophie too, but that was ancient history. If Beatrice knew, why hadnt she said anything? Rightshe was ironclad. Nothing ruffled her.
“No, not Sophie or Emily. Someone else. The woman of my dreams. I cant live without her, and Im going. Dont try to stop me!”
“Then it must be Sarah,” muttered Beatrice. “Oh, Edward rubbish at keeping secrets, arent you? The woman of your dreams is Sarah Henley. Thirty-five, one kid, two miscarriages Am I right?”
Edward clutched his head. Spot on! He *was* having an affair with Sarah Henley.
“But how did you know?” he stammered. “Did someone tell you? Were you following me?”
“Simple, Edward,” said Beatrice. “Im a gynaecologist. Ive examined nearly every woman in this townyouve only managed a few. Just had to put two and two together.”
Edward straightened up.
“Suppose youre right! Even if its Sarah, it changes nothing. Im going.”
“Youre daft, Edward,” said Beatrice. “Couldve at least asked me first! Theres nothing special about Sarahsame as the others, medically speaking. Have you even seen your muses records?”
“N-no” Edward admitted.
“Thought not. Rightgo shower. Tomorrow Ill ring Dr. Whitmore, get you seen at the clinic straight away,” said Beatrice. “Then well talk. Honestlya doctors husband picking an unhealthy mistress! Its embarrassing.”
“What should I do?” Edward asked helplessly.
“Ill fry the steaks,” said Beatrice. “You shower and do as you please. If you want a perfect, problem-free muse, ask me. Ive got recommendations”
