Whos been sleeping in my bed and rumpled the sheets A story.
My husbands girlfriend is only a bit older than our daughterround, childish cheeks, wide-eyed and naive, with a nose piercing (when my daughter wanted one, her father raged and banned it completely). Its hard to stay angry at a girl like that. I watch as Chloe sits there with bare, bluish legs and that short jacket, and I want to bite out: If youre planning to have this idiots children, buy yourself a proper coat and put on tights under your jeans. But, of course, I say nothing. I just hand Chloe the keys, grab my two bags of leftovers and things, and head for the bus stop.
Mrs. Watson, whats this gadget under the kitchen counter? she calls after me, Do you store dishes in it?
I cant resist getting in one last shot.
I used to hide the bodies of Daves girlfriends there, but you can wash your plates in it if you like.
Without waiting for a response, and not bothering to look at Chloes startled face, I stride down the stairs, almost pleased with myself. Well, thats thattwenty years completely wasted.
It was our daughter who first found out Dave had a girlfriend. Shed skipped a lesson at school, thinking the house would be empty, and walked in to find the young nymph Chloe sipping cocoa from her favourite mug. The nymph wasnt wearing much, and in the shower was Dad. Our clever daughter Sophie immediately put two and two together, phoned me and said:
Mum, I think Dad has a girlfriendand shes wearing my slippers and drinking from my mug!
It felt just like a storybook moment. I recall Sophies disappointment, but honestly, she was more upset about the trespass on her things than her fathers betrayal. Whos been sleeping in my bed and rumpled my sheets
Unlike Sophie, I took it all fairly calmly. Of course, my ego sufferedshe was young and pretty; Im overweight, have cellulite and all the inconvenient signs of being forty. But mostly, I felt relievedyears of mysterious nighttime calls, endless work hours, receipts from cafés Id never even seen. I could never catch him red-handed; Dave was so smooth about it I ended up feeling guilty for even suspecting him.
This is the first, Dave would lie, bold as brass. Some sort of eclipse, I supposefeels like a comet just struck me.
The comet turned out to be a hotel receptionist where Dave had stayed on a work trip. She was twentypretty but nothing remarkable, certainly not in brains as shed traipsed after Dave all the way to London, renting a grubby bedsit with her savings. Thats why their meetings were at our flat; somewhere to shower, somewhere to wash clothes. No wonder my hot wash cycle was always running instead of the usual delicates!
The flat was Daves, inherited from his father before our marriage. Since Id now filed for divorce, I had to move out with Sophie to the small place my grandmother left me on the outskirts of London. Sophie fumed about the school run.
Come live with us, then, Dave suggestedearning himself another barrage of insults. Well, at least our daughter can say what she thinks of him.
At first, it was uncomfortablenew buses, new supermarkets, it took us an hour just to get to work and school. But eventually, we settled in. I found a new job, Sophie got into collegehalf the commute, now. There wasnt much time to be sad with all the day-to-day struggles and exam stress; and by the time things eased up there was simply no need to mope.
Chloe called a few timesasking what setting to bake pies on, or how to use the dishwasher tablets. Once she even came by, bringing forgotten photos needed urgently for Sophies graduation. Dave couldnt (or wouldnt) come, I was down with a cold, and Sophie flatly refused to visit the old place, swearing it would destroy her mental wellbeing just before computer science exams.
Its sweet here, Chloe murmured, eyeing our faded wallpaper and retro lamps.
I just smirkedyes, sweet; what else is there to say? The old place was modern, sleekI spent twenty years making it so. But no matter, let them enjoy it.
That visit turned out to be a double-edged sword. About a year after the infamous day, one evening the door lock clicked.
Is that for you? I asked Sophie.
She just widened her eyes in alarm.
Chloe stood at the door, mascara and glitter streaked down her face, clutching her sports bag.
Is something wrong with Dave? I asked, concerned.
Oh, quite wrong! Chloe sniffled, I caught him with the secretary! I went over for a surprise since he was working late and
She burst into tears again, sobbing into her hands like a child.
So whats your plan here? I asked, noticing the suitcase hint.
May I stay the night? Ive got no money left. Ill catch the train to Mums tomorrow.
How will you afford the train, then?
I thought you might lend me some.
I truly didnt know whether to laugh or cry.
Sophie decided for me.
Get out of here! she snapped, adding some choice words Id never heard her use before.
I shot Sophie a reproachful look.
Come in, Chloe, I said, Its already nightyou cant sleep out on the street.
It didnt get easier after that.
Sophie was so upset she gave me an ultimatumher or Chloe. I shrugged; shes an adult, its her call. If she wants, she can go stay with her dad.
Like I want to! Im going to Nats place, she declared.
I ended up ordering a cab for Sophie to go to her friends, while Chloe, havent made a single friend or found a job in a year spent in Londonjust another piercing, this time in her tonguesipped tea as I tried to calm her down. Of course, I lent her moneywhat else could I do? I wasnt about to house her long-term. I even drove her to the station so she wouldnt get lost.
Chloe thanked me profusely, apologised, and swore to turn her life aroundenrol in college and steer clear of married men.
Mum always told me I was hopeless. Seems she was right.
I didnt see her off with a wave; that would be far too much. Sophie and I made up quickly, but she still struggled to understandhow could her mother let that homewrecker in our house? I stroked her fluffy hair, smiled and said:
Youll understand when youre older.
Dave called a week later. Claimed hed realised everything, dumped Chloe, was ready for a blissful reunion.
Have you run out of clean shirts? I asked sarcastically.
Well, yes, my ex sighed. And she never learned how to use the washing machineIve been wearing grubby clothes for a year.
I didnt go back. Didnt gloat. But I cant denyafter all that, something in me changed for the better. My head and heart felt lighter; I smiled much more. I got a dog, started taking evening walks. Met a lovely neighbourso what if hes ten years older than me, Im not a girl anymore either. And life carries on.
