“Igor, that was the last straw! We’re getting a divorcedont bother dropping to your knees like you always do, it wont work this time!” I slammed the door on our marriage.
Of course, Igor didnt believe me. He was sure itd play out like alwayshed beg, buy me another ring, and Id forgive him. It had happened too many times before. But this time, I was done. My fingers were weighed down with rings, yet my life felt empty. Igor had fallen deep into the bottle, drowning in cheap whiskey.
It all started so differently.
My first husband, Eddie, vanished without a trace in the ’90sback when life was scary anyway. Eddie had a temper, always picking fights. If something rubbed him the wrong way, hed fly off the handle. Im certain he got mixed up in something dodgy and never made it out. No word, no body. Just me left with our two little girlsLizzie, five, and Ruby, barely two. Five years passed since he disappeared.
I thought Id lose my mind. I loved Eddie, despite his outbursts. We were inseparable. After he was gone, I swore off menId raise the girls alone. But life had other plans.
Those were rough years. I worked at a factory, getting paid in toasters. Had to sell them just to put food on the table. One freezing winter day, I was hawking them at the market, my fingers blue, when a man stopped beside me.
“You look frozen,” he said gently.
“Really? Hadnt noticed,” I joked through chattering teeth. But something about him felt warm, safe.
“Stupid question,” he admitted. “How about a cuppa? Ill help carry these.”
“Fine. If I dont thaw soon, Ill keel over,” I muttered.
We never made it to the café. I dragged him to my block, asked him to wait outside with the toasters while I fetched the girls from nursery. My legs were numb, but my heart wasnt. When I returned with the kids, there he wasIgor, hed said his name wasshifting on his feet, smoking. I thought, *Why not offer tea? See where it goes.*
He helped haul the toasters up six flights (lift broken, naturally). By the time Id herded the girls to the third floor, he was already heading down.
“Wait!” I grabbed his sleeve. “You cant leave without a hot drink.”
He glanced at the kids. “Wont I be in the way?”
“Dont be daft. Hold their handsIll put the kettle on.”
I didnt want to let him go. Over tea, he offered me a jobbetter pay than a years worth of toasters. I nearly kissed his hands in gratitude.
Turns out, Igor was divorcing his second wife. Had a son from the first.
One thing led to another.
We married. He adopted the girls. Life was goldena four-bed house in Surrey, top-notch furniture, holidays by the seaside every summer. Pure bliss.
For seven years.
Then Igor started drinking. At first, I ignored it. Long hours, stresshe needed to unwind. But when he turned up pissed at work, I panicked. Pleading did nothing.
So I hatched a plan. Desperate? Maybe. At 39, I decided another baby might sober him up. My mates laughed.
“Go on, Tanya,” they teased. “Might inspire the rest of us to start fresh at forty.”
I always said: *Regret an abortion, never a child.*
We had twins. Four daughters now. But the drinking didnt stop.
I snapped. Sold the house, the holiday home. Bought a cottage in the Cotswolds, opened a posh tearoom. Igor took up huntingguns, gear, the lot. Good for keeping him busy.
It worked until the night he lost it. Dont know what he drank, but he trashed the placesmashed crockery, furniture, even fired a shot into the ceiling.
We fled to the neighbours.
Next morning, the house was a warzone. Igor snored on the floor. I packed what survived and dragged the kids to Mums nearby.
“Oh, love,” she sighed. “Take them back. Every marriage hits rough patches.”
Mums motto: *Grin and bear it for a handsome man.*
Two days later, Igor showed up. Thats when I ended it. He didnt even remember his rampage. Called my stories nonsense.
I didnt care. Bridges burned.
Sold the tearoom for pennies, moved to a village hovel. The older girls found work, then husbands. The twins started secondary school. They still adored Igor, so I heard updateshow hed moved to Birmingham, quit drinking, stayed single. Left his address, *just in case*.
Two lonely years passed.
I missed him. Pawned all his ringscouldnt afford to reclaim them. Started remembering the good times. Hed loved us all, always knew how to apologise. Maybe happiness had been there all along.
Now the older girls barely visit. Soon the twinsll fly the nest. And Ill be alone.
So I sent the twins to grill him. Any new lady?
Turns outno. Sober. Still ours.
Weve been back together five years now.
Told you Im a gambler.”
