Oh, youll never guess what happenedPaula was out in the garden, digging up some weeds, when she heard the gate creak open. She glanced up and nudged Paul. “Oi, is that Vincent?” Paul squinted. “Yeah, and hes got a massive duffel bag with him.” They exchanged a look. “Blimey, looks like hes been kicked out. Serves him right, the cheeky sod.”
Paul brushed the dirt off his handstheyd been planting seedlingsand went to greet his brother while Paula stayed put, arms crossed. “Let Paul deal with it. Why should I bother with that arrogant git?” she muttered. But then Vincent spotted her and waved with this awkward, guilty grin. She half-heartedly waved back, thinking, “Like a cat thats been at the cream. Mustve really messed up if hes turning up here out of the blue.”
Paul didnt chat long before heading back to the garden, and Vincent slunk inside.
“You were right, Paula,” Paul said when he returned. “Marianne threw him out. But hes spinning it like its all her faulttypical. We know the truth, though. She finally had enough.”
“Can you blame her? She put up with his drinking and rowing for ages. And he even raised his hand to her a few times. I mean, shes no oil painting, but stillhes six years younger, decent-looking. And she had his kid after struggling for years with her ex. No wonder she was scared to lose him.” Paula sighed.
“Yeah, with her looks You know what they called her at her old job?” Paul smirked. “The Witch of Walthamstow!”
Paulas eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”
“Dead serious. And get thisshed laugh along with it.”
“Shes got a sense of humour, Ill give her that. But it doesnt help when your home lifes a trainwreck,” Paula muttered.
Paul had met Marianne at workshe was 28 then, a dispatcher for a minicab firm, while he fixed their radios. She was married to the boss, this bloke named Marcus, young and charming. Five years married, no kids. Paul always wondered what a bloke like him saw in herrough around the edges, not exactly easy on the eyes.
Then one day, Vincent popped by the office. It was Mariannes birthday, and shed brought cake for the staff. Marcus got called away, and next thing you know, Vincents cracking jokes, Mariannes in stitches, and the two of them are thick as thieves.
Paul didnt see the moment it happened, but by March, Marianne announced she was divorcing Marcus. “Whats the point? My clocks ticking, and no kids. I got checkedIm fine. Marcus refuses to see a doctor. Probably doesnt even want them. Plus, hes shagging around. Everyones laughing at meLook at the Witch of Walthamstow, whats he even see in her?”
When Vincent told the family he was marrying her, his parents were chuffed. Paul was baffled. “Who, Vincent?”
“Marianne!” Vincent grinned.
“But shes years older, and”
“Not a stunner, yeah? So what! Shes loaded. Her aunts a bigwig at a design firmgetting me a job there. Her mum and brother live in Spain, run a business. They send her parcels every monthsocks, pants, even posh jam. Flats nice too, two beds, done up proper. And they wire her euros for bills. Oh, and a two-storey cottage in Kent with a massive garden. Weve been there. Shes a catch!”
“A catch, sure. But do you even love her?” Paul asked.
“Course! Shes a laugh. And her roast dinners? Top-notch.”
What could anyone say to that?
They married soon after. When Marianne got pregnant, she was over the moon. “Told Marcus it was him! Three months with Vincent, and bambaby on the way!”
Little Imogen was born healthy, and once she turned six months, Marianne and Vincent started leaving her with his parents on weekends while they went to the cottage. Loads of work theregardens huge.
But Marianne confided in Paula once that Vincent often dropped her off and vanished back to London, claiming “odd jobs.” He always had cash, though. Paul and Paula sometimes helped out at the cottage.
Time flewImogen turned three. They threw a little party at Mariannes flat, all posh snacks from her Spanish relatives. Imogen was kitted out in designer geargifts from Granny abroad. But Vincent kept sneaking off to take calls. Marianne side-eyed him. “Vincent, seriously? Who keeps ringing? Weve got guests!”
“Just work, love. Nothin to worry about,” hed say, avoiding her gaze.
Two years later, Vincent was working at the design firm with Marianne. Easy job, good pay. Life was sweet.
Then Vincent dropped a bombshell: they were all off to Spain. “Her folks want to meet Imogenonly seen her on Skype. Her mums saved for years to pay for it. Cant wait to spoil their favourite son-in-law.” He preened.
The trip was a blast. Vincent came back raving. “Her mum wouldnt leave me alone! Vincent, darling, have another paella! I put on three kilos!”
“Golden boy, arent you?” Marianne laughed, ruffling his hair.
One Saturday, Paula heard the doorbell. Her mother-in-law got there first. Paula peeked outyoung woman with two little girls. “Charity collectors? Nah, too well-dressed.” Her mother-in-law spoke to them for ages, then came back pale as a sheet.
“Who was that?” Paula asked.
“No one. Wrong house,” the woman muttered before locking herself in her room. Later, Paula overheard hushed arguing.
Then Marianne rang Paul one Sunday. “Vincent there?”
“No?” Paul frowned.
“Already left? Must be on his way home. Hows the leak? Sorted it?”
“What leak?”
“Yesterday? You called, said the pipes burst, needed help”
“Oh. Right.” Silence.
“I see,” Marianne said flatly.
Paul rang Vincent straight after. “If youre lying, at least clue me in! Marianne just rang, and I had no idea what youd told her. Shes cottoned on. Where were you?”
Their mum overheard. “Whats going on with Vincent and Marianne?” She hesitated. “Last week, LydiaVincents old flameturned up with two little girls. Said theyre his. My granddaughters.” She burst into tears. “Two families? And kids? What if Marianne finds out?”
She did. Nosey neighbours talked. Turns out Vincent had been carrying on with Lydia even before Marianne, had two kids with her.
“After everything my family did for you!” Marianne screamed when it all came out. “The job, the cottage, the car, Spain! Favourite son-in-lawwhat a joke! Pack your bags. Get out. And find another jobIm telling my aunt tomorrow. Youre finished.”
“But where will I go, love? I cant live without you”
“Youve got Lydia, havent you?”
“Shes shacked up with some bloke now”
“Not my problem.”
When Vincent turned up at his parents, duffel bag in hand, Paul just shook his head. “Threw it all away for a bit of fun. Now hes got nothing. Like the dog that chased the car and caught the bumper.”
