Chapter One
I am woken by the usual sound of my husband's bodily functions emanating from the ensuite.
I find it strangely comforting, and fleetingly wonder if it would work as a design concept for an alarm clock. I mean surely, I'm not alone; there must be millions of women waking up to the familiar sounds every day.
I suppose it's the human equivalent of a cock crowing.
Keeping my eyes tightly shut I hear him coming back into the room. If I can just make it five more minutes, then he will be off downstairs, and I will be spared from the morning grope.
How is it best to feign sleep? I mean I should probably throw in a little snort or a snore, maybe thrash around a bit, and perfect some rapid eye movement. Instead, I lie here like a frozen statue, tense and in tune to every bodily function that he makes.
I can sense him approaching my side of the bed, the one that I have occupied for the last twenty years of our marriage. Strange how territorial we all get over a certain side. Even when we go on holiday, we adopt the same procedures, it becomes ‘My Side.’
Now he is hovering beside me, and I run my tongue around my teeth, trying to dispel my morning breath. What if he wants a session before work? I wonder if I could fit it in before the school run.
I feel a gentle tap on my arm and he whispers, ‘Sophie, are you awake?’
I wonder how to open my eyes.
Should I adopt the wanton sex kitten pose, or the irate bored housewife/ downtrodden wife and mother pose?
He taps my arm again and says louder, ‘Sophie, wake up I need to say something.’
Well, this is different, it looks like I will be spared from a marathon session - I say marathon more like a gentle jog on his part before falling at the first hurdle. Stamina has never been his strong point.
My eyes snap open and I take in the sight of my husband of the last twenty years. Slightly wider with a lot less hair than when I first met him, sporting the grey hair that becomes distinguished on a man, and screams pensioner on a woman.
He looks at me with a worried expression and I sit up now extremely curious.
‘What's the matter darling, can't you find a matching pair of socks? I'm sure there are some in the utility room.’
He looks down and sits on the bed next to me, perching on the edge as if he is afraid that I will bite. I shift into an upright position and once again wonder what it could be.
If I'm taking bets it's probably something to do with my birthday. I'm going to be forty in a few weeks’ time, and he's been hinting at a surprise for the last few months.
Suddenly I feel excited. Maybe he has booked us a mini break without Harry and Mr Tumnus. Gosh, I can't remember the last time we did something on our own. When you have a six-year-old and a cocker spaniel, they do take up quite a bit of your time.
Feeling happy at the thought I smile at him and prepare myself to act surprised when he springs the treat on me.
He starts fiddling with his hands, which he always does when he is nervous, and I detect a flush creeping over his neck. He looks at me and I see that he is genuinely nervous and a sudden fear grips me.
Oh no, he must have a terrible illness. Maybe that visit to the doctors last week was bad news. He might have an incurable illness and only have months to live. I could be widowed and have to bring up Harry on my own. Oh, my God, I don't suit black, and even worse, I might have to actually join the rat race and work 9-5.
My anxiety levels are now on code red and reaching out, I grasp his hand gently.
‘What's the matter Lysander, you're worrying me?’
He shifts away, almost as if he can't bear me to touch him, and then appears to steel himself to deliver the bad news. Turning towards me he fixes me with a blank stare and says in a loud determined voice, ‘I'm sorry, Sophie, but I've met someone else and want a divorce.’
For a moment, I think that I must be still asleep. I sit still and just stare at him, while my mind struggles to compute this unusual information. I blink rapidly in the hope that every time I re-focus he will have two heads and the body of a wildebeest.
I mean, surely, I’m dreaming, because we don't even argue.
He looks at me anxiously.
‘Do you understand Sophie? I'm sorry but I can't pretend anymore. It's not fair on any of us and I can't go on living a lie.’
My hand flies to my mouth as if I can't be trusted to form a coherent sentence. My mind is spinning, and I suppose I must be in shock. Surely, I should be crying and screaming, and bashing him over the head with the industrial torch that I keep under the bed for emergencies, in case of power cuts or intruders.
They don't sell Tasers in Robert Dyas, and now I can see why as I know that I would be very much using it on him right now, and I wouldn't even issue the obligatory ‘Taser- Taser’ warning before I let him have it.
He shakes his head and stands up awkwardly.
‘Listen, I can see that you need time to get your head around what I’ve just told you, and I am running late for the office. We will talk later and iron everything out then. I just want to say that it's not you, it's me, and I have changed. I'm sure that when you come to terms with it, you will see it's for the best.
Well, at least it's out in the open now. Anyway, sorry to have to run but you know, life goes on as they say. I'll let Mr Tumnus out when I go downstairs; just remember not to leave him out there too long, I still haven't mended that hole in the fence at the end.’
And then he is gone.