After dropping his mistress off, Butcher said a gentle farewell and set off home. He paused for a moment outside his terraced house in Manchester, mentally bracing himself for the conversation hed need to have with his wife. He climbed the stairs, unlocked the front door, and stepped inside.
Hello, called Butcher. Violet, are you in?
Im here, his wife replied phlegmatically from the living room. Evening. Well, shall I go on and start frying the pork chops?
Butcher swore to himself hed handle this directlywith firmness and resolve, the way a real man should. Time to put an end to his double life, before the kisses of his lover faded and the quiet dullness of his daily routine swallowed him up again.
Violet, he cleared his throat. Ive come to tell you its time we split up.
Violet took the news more calmly than anyone would have expected. In truth, nothing ever seemed to ruffle her composure. Butcher had even jokingly called her Cool Hand Vi when they were younger.
Whats that supposed to mean? she asked from the kitchen doorway. I shouldnt bother with the chops then?
Thats up to you, said Butcher. If you want to, fry them. If not, dont. Im leaving. For another woman.
Most wives, at this point, would either come after their husbands swinging a frying pan, or burst into a wild scene of anger and tears. But Violet was not most wives.
Oh, what a lark, she said. By the way, did you pick my boots up from the cobblers?
No, I forgot, Butcher mumbled. If its that important, Ill go back out and fetch them right now.
Typical Violet muttered. Send a fool for boots, hell come back with his old trainers instead.
Butcher felt wounded. The talk hed planned was lacking thrillwhere was the drama, the passion, the righteous fury? But then, what could you expect from stalwart Violet, nicknamed Cool Hand Vi?
Youre not listening to me, Violet! Butcher burst out. I am officially telling you Im leaving you for another woman, and youre on about boots!
Too right, she replied flatly. Unlike me, nothing is keeping you here. Your boots arent stuck at the menders, after all. Why wouldnt you walk out?
Theyd been together for years, but Butcher still could never quite work out when Violet was joking and when she was deadly serious. He used to be drawn to her easy-going nature, her level head, and her quiet habits. Plus, if he was being honest, she ran a tidy household and carried herself well.
Violet was reliable, loyal, and as unflappable as an anchor. But Butchers heart now belonged to someone elsesomeone who made him burn with reckless, guilty excitement. It was time to tie up loose ends and cast off for a new life.
And so, Violet, he said with mock solemnity, I am grateful for everything, but Im leaving because I love someone else. I dont love you any more.
Well, isnt that just extraordinary, said Violet. He doesnt love mewhat a charmer. For the record, my mum loved the neighbour, and my dad adored dominoes and whisky. Yet somehow I turned out quite all right, didnt I?
Butcher knew any argument with her was a losing battle. Every word she uttered hit with the force of a sledgehammer, and his initial bravado was draining away; any urge to start a row had vanished.
Youre a marvel, Vi, truly, Butcher said glumly. But I love someone else. Its a hot, sinful, sweet sort of love. Im leaving to be with her, do you see?
And who might this other woman be? asked Violet. Is it that Sarah Hopkins, perhaps?
Butcher shrank back. Last year, he had actually had a secret fling with Hopkins, but he never imagined Violet even knew her name.
H-how did you? he started, then gave up. Never mind. No, Violet, its not Hopkins.
Violet yawned.
Lucy Barnett, then? Off to her, are you?
A shudder ran through him. Lucy, too, had been a past affair. If Violet had known, why had she never confronted him? But then, she was a woman of iron composurenever a loose word.
No, not Barnett, not Hopkins, Butcher insisted. Someone elsean extraordinary woman, the woman of my dreams! I cant live without her, and I mean to go be with her, and theres nothing you can say to stop me!
Thatll be Maya then, said his wife matter-of-factly. Oh Butcher youre as transparent as a window pane. The woman of your dreamsMaya Valentine Griffiths. Thirty-five, one child, two abortions yes?
Butcher clutched his head. Direct hit. His lover was indeed Maya Griffiths.
But how? he stuttered. Who told you? Were you following me?
Elementary, my dear Butcher, Violet said. You forget, Im a GP with fifteen years experience. I know every woman in this city, while youve barely scratched the surface. I only need a glance at certain records to see where youve been, my poor, misguided soul!
Butcher pulled himself together.
So what if you worked it out! he declared. Lets say it *is* Griffiths. That doesnt change a thingIm leaving.
Youre a fool, Butcher, Violet replied. You could have just asked me first! Frankly, as a doctor, I can assure you Mayas nothing out of the ordinary. Just another woman, really. And have you seen her medical history?
N-no Butcher admitted.
Exactly! First, hop in the shower. Tomorrow Ill ring up Dr Simmons, and you can get checked out at the clinic, no waiting, Violet said firmly. Then well speak. Imagine itmy husband, of all people, unable to find a woman in good health!
So what do I do? Butcher asked, lost.
Ill go fry the chops, Violet said over her shoulder. Go and wash, and do what you please. If you want a woman with a clean bill of healthjust ask, Ill recommend you one myself.
Some roads lead nowhere but back to where you started. Some answers come when youre brave enough to face the truthor someone who tells it to you straight. Sometimes, you think youre seeking happiness, only to realise its been quietly frying pork chops for you all the while.
