For months, I really thought my husband was doing right by his three daughters from his previous marriage. Any time Id ask about them, hed tell me not to worry, that he sent their child support on time, that things were fine. But I just couldnt quiet that nagging feeling I had, something in my gut telling me I needed to check for myself.
One Tuesday morning while he was at work, I found the address in one of his old divorce papers and, I dont know, I just felt compelled to go. It was on the other side of town, miles away from our comfortable house, and honestly, the area was nothing like oursrun-down, each terraced house a bit more tired than the next. Even before Id got out of the car, I could sense something wasnt right.
When I knocked, this worn-out, wary-looking woman opened the door. His ex-wife. The girls mum.
Can I help you? she said, a little defensive.
I took a breath. Hi. Im Emily, your exs wife. I was hoping we could have a chat.
She hesitated for a moment, then sighed and let me in. The place was spotless, but there was barely anything there. No extra bits of furniture, no homey clutter. Everything about the flat screamed that they were just about making ends meet.
What do you want? she asked, folding her arms.
I just want the truth, I admitted, quietly. He tells me hes sending money every month, that hes helping out I trailed off, waiting.
She gave this dry, humourless laugh. Hasnt sent a single penny for over a year. Were scraping by on my cleaners wages, and my mum helps when she can. He just left us.
Honestly, it felt like the floor had fallen away beneath me. At that moment, one of the girls wandered ina little one, maybe seven years old, tired eyes, tangled hair, jumper with worn elbows and tiny holes at the cuffs.
Mummy, Im hungry, she whispered.
My heart honestly broke. I kept picturing our placebig, warm, overflowing with extrasand then here were these girls, counting loose change to buy bread.
Where are the other two girls? I asked, almost scared to hear the answer.
At school. Theyll be home in about an hour or so, their mum replied.
Right, I said, making up my mind. Go collect them. Were all going shopping.
She stared at me. What? I cant let you do that
Im not asking, I said, firmly but kindly. This isnt charity. This is what they should have had all along.
We went down to the closest shopping centre. I got the girls kitted out with new clothes, shoes, coats, and all their school bits. The looks on their faceswhen they tried everything onthey just grinned from ear to ear. It was heartbreaking but somehow healing at the same time. I picked up things for their mum toosome nice clothes, proper shampoo, little things that just help you feel like yourself again.
She looked at me, totally overwhelmed. I dont even know what to say. Thank you, she whispered, her eyes glassy.
Dont thank me, I told her. This is just the start.
That evening, when I got home, he was sprawled on the sofa watching the tellycompletely relaxed, as though he didnt have three daughters living on the breadline.
Where have you been? he asked, not even taking his eyes off the screen.
I went to meet your daughters. The ones you apparently support, I replied.
He went absolutely white. Jumped straight up.
I can explain
I dont want explanations, I said, my voice deadly calm, but I could feel my anger rising. I want you to pack your things. Now.
What? This is my house!
No, its my house. Its in my name, bought with my moneymy inheritance. I want you gone. Tonight.
He started to plead. Please, can we just talk about this
I told you to pack your things. If you wont, I will.
I went upstairs, dragged out his suitcases, and started packing up his clothes. He was trailing me, begging, but my mind was made up. In less than half an hour, Id put his things out on the front lawn.
Ill be speaking to a solicitor tomorrow, I told him from the doorstep. If you dont support those girls, Ill make sure every penny you owe them is paid, even if I have to pay it myself. But youare done here.
He just stood there on the lawn, surrounded by his stuff, looking small and lost.
I shut the doorleaned against it, shaking. It was the hardest thing Ive ever done, but also, weirdly, the easiest.
Did I do the right thing throwing him out so suddenly? Should I have let him try to explain? I still ask myself that, but deep down, I know I did what had to be done.
