— Right, I’m off… Katie.
— Go on, then.
— I’m leaving, Katie, you hear?
— Go, Alex, just go.
Only once the door slammed shut behind Alex did Catherine let her tears flow. She sat curled up in the old armchair passed down from her grandmother, crying silently, like she used to as a child when afraid someone might hear. She wept until she hiccuped, small and helpless.
How would she go on without Alex? Without the man she’d shared all these years with?
Katie rose to make dinner but stopped short. Why bother? Alex wasn’t here. What was the point? She slumped back into the chair, and the tears came again in waves.
Then she remembered the children. Soon her daughter Emily would be back from university lectures, hungry as always. Later, her son Jacob would return from football practice. They’d need feeding. Katie forced herself up, wiped her face, and walked to the kitchen.
Remembering the years with Alex, she broke down again. How? How could she live without him?
That evening, the children burst in as usual, laughing and shoving each other playfully. But soon, they noticed their father’s absence.
— Mum, where’s Dad? Away on business? — Emily asked.
— Yeah, where is he? — Jacob added.
Katie couldn’t hold back. Tears spilled over as she sank onto a chair and sobbed openly.
— Mum, what’s wrong? Is he in hospital? — Emily’s voice trembled.
— No… he’s gone… — Katie choked out. — For good… to another woman.
— What?! — the children shouted in unison. — Mum, is this a joke?
It wasn’t.
Jacob’s lip quivered. Though he played football like a pro, at thirteen, he was still just a boy. He glanced desperately between his mother and sister, fighting tears.
— Right, — Emily rubbed her temples. — Jake, go wash up and do your homework. Mum, stop with the waterworks. We need to figure this out.
Emily was sharp, quick, decisive. Jacob, without protest, obeyed.
Later, she slipped into his room.
— Crying?
Jacob shook his head, staring at his lap.
Emily hugged him, ruffling his hair.
— We’ll get through this, Jake. Hear me? We’re family, and he’s out there alone. He’s worse off.
— Should I pity him? — Jacob snapped through tears.
— Pity? Maybe. But we’ll be happy—happier than ever. And one day, he’ll realise what a mistake he made.
After calming her brother and mother, Emily retreated to the bathroom and finally let herself cry. How? How could their dad—the best dad in the world—do this? He wasn’t some Adonis, just a middle-aged bloke with a bit of extra weight, thanks to Mum’s home cooking. His jokes were only funny to Mum. He drove an old car he fixed himself and managed a small team at the factory, earning a modest wage.
Yet, their family had always been happy. Emily had bragged to friends that her dad was the only loyal one. Turns out, she was wrong.
Tears streamed as she splashed her face with cold water.
Life carried on, steady but different—no more Dad. The word vanished from their vocabulary. They said “he” or “your father,” and even that less often.
One day, Emily heard hurried footsteps behind her.
— Em! Emily, wait!
She turned. There was her father—awkward in a stiff three-piece suit, a tie strangling his neck—half-jogging to catch up.
Emily sped up.
— Sweetheart, please—wait! — he begged.
— What do you want? — she said coldly.
— Here… take this. — Alex held out a thick wad of notes. — There’s plenty. Come by ours, eh? Linda—she’s nice, runs a fur shop. We’ll get you a coat. And your mum—a mink for her birthday! Linda says it’s fine. We’re off to Italy soon, buying stock…
— Sod off… into the woods, — Emily cut in.
— Why the woods, love?
— For furs. Can’t say the other thing—too well-mannered… Dad.
Alex froze as if doused in ice water. He knew money was tight at home. They’d always lived simply, and now he’d gone and tangled up with Linda.
It started with his mate, Greg, who invited him to a friend’s place where Linda was. At first, he didn’t like her—too flashy, loud, built like a rugby player. She watched him like prey. He left early that night, telling Katie work ran late. His heart pounded with guilt, shame burning his skin.
Greg kept insisting—”Just for a quick drink!”—and there Linda was again.
— What’s wrong with you, Al? She imports furs from Italy! Two shops! Get Katie a coat, whatever she wants!
— Why? I’ve got Katie.
— Come off it! She’s bored stiff. What’s the harm? A mink coat for Katie—want one?
— Yeah…
So he went. Again and again. All for that blasted coat. Before he knew it, he was in bed with Linda. He wept driving home, disgusted with himself. Then Katie found out… and kicked him out.
Linda was thrilled.
That evening, Emily was stormy.
— Em, did he talk to you? — Jacob mumbled.
— You too?
Her brother nodded.
— Told him to sod off. Hate him. Traitor.
Emily nodded silently.
Alex was miserable.
— What’s wrong, love? — Linda asked.
— The kids won’t speak to me. Katie neither… I offered money, but they’re too proud. I know they’re struggling…
— Well, she threw you out, — Linda shrugged.
— She did… But how’d she know? We were careful…
Linda rose from the lavish bed—far grander than anything Alex had known—setting her champagne flute down. She drank it often, forcing him to join though he hated it, just like the strawberries that made him itch.
— I told her, — Linda said airily.
— What?
— Just did. She didn’t believe me, so I described your birthmark… and how you cry after… y’know.
— You?! Why, Linda?! She kicked me out!
— And? How else were you moving in? Al, where you going?
— Home. To my wife. My kids.
— She chucked you out, idiot!
— Doesn’t matter. She’ll forgive me. Katie’s kind. If not… I’ll sleep in the porch.
— Al, we got her that coat…
— Keep it, Linda. And don’t call me.
— Katie, love…
— I said all I’m saying, Alex.
— Listen! I never meant… Greg talked me into it—said you’d get a fur coat. Then Linda told you. I just wanted to get you one… for your birthday. And you threw me out.
— Leave, Alex.
— Is he still there? — Katie asked Emily.
— Outside, Mum. Raining now. He’ll catch cold.
— Bloke’s daft… A coat, he says. Mink, for my birthday.
— Should we let him in? — Emily whispered.
— Dunno… Jake? What d’you reckon? He’ll freeze.
Jacob sniffed, silent.
— Let’s, — Katie decided. — He’s still a person, poor sod.
They called him in. Sat him at the kitchen table, handing him tea, none meeting his eyes.
— I’m sorry… Katie, forgive me… Kids, please…
— What’d we do? — the children muttered. — You hurt Mum.
Then they all wept, clinging together.
— Al, what’s Italy like? — Katie asked.
— Oh, love, — Alex brightened, spinning tales of places he’d barely seen.
He never spoke to Greg again. Years later, they bought Katie that fur coat—for another birthday. Not mink. Fox.
