Hey love, youve got to hear whats been going on with me and James. So, the other night I was in the kitchen whipping up dinner James had been pining for some seafood linguine, so after a long day at the office I dashed into the Tesco on the high street, grabbed everything we needed and got stuck into the sauce all by myself. James ran a bit late, but when he finally trudged in he was holding a bunch of fresh roses and shouted, Emma, look whos home, the weary hubby! I laughed, snatched the flowers, and plonked them into a vase.
After we ate, we kicked back on the sofa, talked through the days hiccups and the usual little grumbles, and put on a film. Weve been married for over ten years now, and the spark has settled into a nice, cosy warmth. We run a small joint venture I handle the suppliers, James does the sales and looks after the books. The flat in Manchester is bright and comfortable, and weve never really bothered with kids maybe when were both pushing forty.
A few weeks ago I found a scruffy little kitten wandering down the back lane, a skinny grey tabby with a strip down his back. I brought him in, named him Whiskers, and James was instantly not having it. Whats this mangy thing? Take him to a shelter. If you want a cat, get a proper pedigree a Maine Coon or something fancy. This is a stray, not a showpiece, he growled. Id already fallen for the little bloke, so Whiskers became my sidekick, and Jamess annoyance turned into a fullblown rivalry. Hed nudge the cat out of the way, and Whiskers would retaliate by draping himself over Jamess trousers, shedding fur and sharpening his claws on the sweater.
James snapped, Im getting rid of this cat, hes ruining my clothes. I tried to calm him, Dont fling things about, just stash them away. Whiskers doesnt like the mess. He muttered something about the name being a bit daft, and Whiskers shot me that cold, greeneyed stare that says, Im watching you. So there we were, a year of covert battles between husband and feline, and even now the cat would make James flinch the moment he saw him.
Id say, James, love, hes just doing cat things. Hes not a menace. Hed reply, Emma, hes driving me mad. Can we just give him away? Never, Id say, Hes mine. By the end of the year Whiskers had bulked up into a handsome, fluffy beast.
Saturday came around and I was doing the deep clean. James had ducked off on a Thursday business trip to Leeds, so the flat was all mine. I was dusting, vacuuming, and somewhere behind the wardrobe I spotted a thin folder sticking out. I pulled it free and inside were a stack of receipts: hotel bookings, short breaks, pricey jewellery, airline tickets none of it for me. There was also a contract for a car, signed by a mysterious Natalie, but the payments were coming from Jamess account. Hed scribbled notes on several of the slips. Hes always been a bit of a papercollector, funneling receipts through the company to make a tidy profit. This time, though, hed hidden them for good measure.
My stomach dropped. I stared at the papers, feeling like I wanted to tear them up, shout, and ring James straight away, but I held my tongue. Whiskers hopped onto the folder, purring like a tiny engine, and I whispered, Youve seen it all, havent you? The cat curled on my lap, his rumbling purr soothing me back to sanity. I copied every receipt and document, then hopped onto Facebook to hunt down the cars owner. It was a young woman posing with a brandnew red hatchback, captioned gift from my love. No picture of a boyfriend, just a backhand view that Jamess shoulders would have made. Turns out James had a sidelover, and hed been splashing family money on her.
James rolled back in Sunday evening, cheeks flushed with roses, shouting, Wheres my tired husband?! I told him, Im feeling a bit under the weather, heads pounding. My eyes were genuinely bloodshot. He ate, then I slipped off to the spare bedroom. Should we call a doctor? he asked. No, Ive already taken the tablets, I replied.
He dozed off, his phone left on the kitchen counter. I picked it up, turned it over in my hands out of habit, and finally slipped a glance at the messages. There it was a string of texts to a woman labelled Sunshine: Missing you already. See you Tuesday. My heart thudded. The next Monday I sent James off to work, telling him I was just resting at the cottage.
By that evening Id gathered all the paperwork and booked an appointment with a solicitor. He filed for divorce and asset division without me even knowing. I told James, I think Im really ill, Im going to stay at the cottage for a while. I still popped into the office once a week, working remotely from the city.
When James got the summons, it hit him like a bolt from the blue. He stormed over, What are you doing? Weve been together forever, Ive done everything for you. I said, Ive fallen out of love, James. Meet me in court. I kept quiet about the mistress. In court, when the receipts and the car purchase were laid out, James looked genuinely stunned.
The judge asked, Did you really spend that kind of money on a lover? Did you buy her a car? James mumbled, Yes I did. My solicitor secured the full split of the business, half the assets, and even reclaimed half of the money James had spent on his lover, since it was joint family cash. James didnt argue.
In the end James kept the flat, I got the cottage and a decent lump sum. The cars stayed where they were each of us kept the one wed been using. Before the divorce, Id already shifted a few of my supplier contacts to a new company, and now Im running the whole show myself both the finance side and the sales. It feels steadier, and Whiskers is right there with me, keeping the place warm.
James is fuming, because his exwife is now a competitor, and a successful one at that. His bank account has taken a hit, and his new fling isnt exactly his cup of tea. Hes still popping out for dates, then coming back to an empty flat. Anyway, thats the long and short of it. Thought youd want the scoop. Catch up soon? Talk later!
