Betrayal, Shock, Mystery.
Natalie was preparing dinner when there was a knock at the door. “How odd,” she thought, “we have a doorbell, and all our friends know that.” She opened the door to find a stranger, a woman about her own age, staring at her with curious eyes.
“Good evening! Are you Natalie?” the unexpected visitor asked.
“Natalie, yes. And you are? I dont believe weve met.”
“No, we havent. Im a close acquaintance of your husband.”
“Olivers?”
“Ollies,” the woman corrected, a faint smile playing on her lips.
“Ollie, is it? I suppose I shouldnt be surprisedyoure not the first to call him that. Though I must say, usually they ring the bell before turning up unannounced. So, what should I call you?”
“My names Helen. Look, I”
“Dont fret, Helen. Let me guessyou and my husband are in love, and Im standing in the way of your happiness?”
“How did you?”
“Oh, Ive heard it all before. But heres the thingIm not keeping him. Take him, if you like. What did he tell you? That our children are too young, that he cant abandon them?”
“No, nothing like that. I know your boys are grown, at university.”
“Ah. Then he spun you the tale about me being ill, and him being too honourable to leave me in such a state? As you can see, Im perfectly healthy.”
“No, he didnt say that either.”
“Fascinating. What other excuses does he have? That his firm frowns upon divorce? Lies, I assure you. His boss couldnt care less about his employees marital affairs.”
“No, youre missing the point. He said we just had to wait wait until until your father well, until hes gone.”
Natalie froze. Her father was barely seventy, in excellent health, and had no intention of departing this world anytime soon.
“You must be mistaken.”
“No, no. Oliver was very clear. Once Arthur passes, hell leave you. Until then, he has to stay.”
“And whys that? Is he afraid of my father? Because I can assure you, Arthur wouldnt lift a finger against him.”
“Oh, noOliver respects him enormously. But he says once hes gone, youll move into his flat.”
“Excuse me? The audacity! My father is fit as a fiddle, and I have no intention of moving. That flat is mineinherited from my grandmother, renovated with my parents money. And Arthurs kept every receipt. Hes thorough like that.”
“But Oliver said it would be his. That youd take the cottage, the car, the garage”
“Did he now? And yet you couldnt wait for this grand inheritance to materialise? Had to come knocking today?”
“Im not getting any younger, Natalie. I want to enjoy my happiness now. I dont care about the flatOliver and I can live at my place.”
“How pragmatic. So what do you want from me?”
“Just let him go. Thats all.”
“Take him.”
“What?”
“Im not stopping him. I never did. I loved him once, foolishly hoped hed settle down. Then I told myself the boys needed their father. Lately, I even thought hed stopped his little escapades. But clearly, I was wrong.”
“So youll really let him go?”
“Absolutely. You can take his things now, if you like.”
“Oh, noI couldnt carry them. Oliver can fetch them when hes ready. Just promise you wont hold him back.”
“Dont worryhell be free by tonight. Ill file for divorce tomorrow, let the courts divide our assets fairly. Though I wont be handing over the flat. As I said, its mine.”
Helen left, and Natalie began packing Olivers belongings. She wouldnt argue, wouldnt make a scene. Shed make sure he walked out on his own. And though hed assume, as always, that he could return whenever he pleased, this time well, things would be different.
*To thinkwaiting for my father to die so he could claim my flat. The sheer nerve. And whose fault is that? Mine, for turning a blind eye all these years. Enough, Oliver. Off you go to your precious Helen. Live long and* she thought, folding his shirts neatly into a suitcase.
When Oliver returned from work, he noticed nothing amisssave for Natalie refusing to eat with him. Not that he cared. Hed planned to enjoy his dinner, then slip out for his usual “evening stroll,” returning later as if nothing had happened.
“Darling, dinner was lovely. Think Ill take a walk,” he announced.
*There it is. Go on, then.*
“Of course, dear. Walkings good for men your age.”
“My age? Whats that supposed to mean?” Oliver bristledhe prided himself on being in his prime.
“Well, you *are* over fifty. Not exactly a spring chicken.”
“Excuse me? Im in my prime! I could outpace any young”
“Really? Because weve been sleeping in separate rooms for a year now.”
“So?”
“Oh, nothing. Just that Petermy friendhas no such troubles, and hes your age. Hes been saying how much he misses me, actually.”
“Who the hell is Peter?”
“My dear, its sad, really. Youve been absent as a husband for a yearmight as well be my flatmate. But I dont blame you. At your age, these things happen. Go on, take your walk. Clear your head. Well sort things out later.”
“You pity me? Ill have you know”
“I dont care to know. Off you go.”
“Natalie, Im leaving. A woman who thinks Im past it doesnt deserve me. Pack my things. And dont expect forgiveness. I might have overlooked this Peter businessthese things happenbut pity? Never.”
“Your things are already packed, darling. If Ive missed anything, just ring. Off you popno need to wait for Arthur to pass after all.”
“Whats that got to do with anything?”
“Nothing at all. Just a thought. Go on, now. I trust you wont contest the divorce?”
“Contest? Ha! But dont think youre keeping everything.”
“Oh, I wouldnt dream of cheating you. But do try to rememberthe flat was never yours.”
“The flat? This one?”
“This very one.”
“Were not dividing it?”
“No. It was my grandmothers.”
“But Ive lived here twenty-five years!”
“Lucky you. Quite the arrangementliving in a flat where even the renovations were paid for by your in-laws.”
Oliver grabbed a suitcase and stormed out, straight to Helenswhere he was coddled and assured he was still young, virile, magnificent.
Natalie filed for divorce the next day. Oliver didnt object. The court granted him the car and garage; the cottage went to Natalie. She sold it, then set off on a tour of England with ArthurCornwall, the Lake District, Brighton. Arthur, sprightly as ever, had no plans to depart this world anytime soon.
Six months later, Helen grew suspicious of Olivers long “evening strolls.” She packed his bags and left them outside. When he returned, she wouldnt even open the door.
So Oliver trudged back to Natalies.
*Let her think Im old. Just give me a room,* he thought.
But the neighbours told him she was awayanother trip with Arthur.
Nowhere left to go but the garage. He could rig up a sink, maybe a stove. Spring was mild; summer would be bearable.
Or perhaps another naive young thing. He *was* still a vigorous man, after all.
