A Difficult Choice

What was Jackie to do... when your husband leaves you for another woman, do you forgive him and take him back when he wants to come home... especially now you've met someone else too. Sometimes it's...

A DIFFICULT CHOICE

I shall remember that morning for the rest of my life. The night before I had slept in the big bedroom alone and cried myself to sleep, and yet towards dawn when I woke up from my fitful slumber, I couldn't believe that this thing would still really happen. Maybe it was all just one bad dream. It was only when Richard came into the bedroom carrying a suitcase and I pinched myself that I had to accept the awful reality.

"Well, goodbye Jackie," he said, almost matter-of-factly -- like he'd rehearsed this scene in his mind a thousand times in preparation for this very moment. "I'll be in touch to make legal arrangements about leaving the house to you, and of course I will continue to provide for you and the children."

I said nothing. I was numb to the core.

"Goodbye then," Richard said again, before he left the room and went downstairs. I couldn't answer him.

When I heard the front door finally close I lay blinking against the tears that stung my eyes and listened to the pelt of winter rain against the windows. I knew I would eventually have to get up, face the day and walk the kids to school.

Richard and I had been married for eight years. We had two children - Lucy, six-and-a-half, and Sam. What was I to tell them?

All the way to school they asked questions: "Why didn't we go with Daddy in the car?" "Where has Daddy gone?" "When is Daddy coming back?" - On and on until I felt raw and shaken. Their questions seemed to whip me across the face like sand-filled wind. I was grateful when they finally passed through the school gates and out of sight.

I shopped on the way home in a daze, walking slowly, reluctant to get back to the house. I'd only just got in the door when Richard's mother, Marion arrived. She seemed deeply disturbed. "I've had a letter from Richard. Is it true?"

She knew just by looking at me the answer to that one. Silence can speak volumes. And thank goodness too, because my voice had just deserted me.

"You poor girl, you look quite pale. I'm sorry. I'll make you some coffee -- or would you prefer a brandy?"

I settled for tea. Seeing her had upset me again. Richard was so much like her -- the same dark hair and deep brown eyes. So upright in character herself, Richard's conduct must have been a real let-down for her. An attractive woman normally, I had never before seen her look so much her age as she did at that moment.

"Richard didn't go into details." Marion bit down on her lip. "Do you know the woman?"

"I don't know anything about her, other than her name's Denise. He only told me a couple of days ago, when he came home in the afternoon to inform me he was leaving me. Right out of the blue... I couldn't believe it. I suppose I should have suspected something... coming home late from the office more and more, but I trusted him. I never dreamt..." and for the second time that morning I cried bitter tears.

Marion put her arm round me. We'd always been close. She'd been particularly supportive when I lost mum three years ago and my dad soon after.

"I'd never have believed that Richard would leave his family," she said sadly, but a moment later, as if to try and comfort both me and herself, she added brightly: "But he'll come back, Jackie. Be sure of that. It's some sort of infatuation -- it won't last..."

But I couldn't help the feeling that she was trying to convince herself more than anything. I was still raw and I couldn't help my moment of spite. "Even if he does, I may not be willing to take him back, you know!"

She was temporarily frightened into silence by my mood, but at last she said: "If I can do anything for you and the children..."

"Thanks, Marion... I'm sorry I snapped at you, but I'm sure we'll manage somehow."

Suddenly, in the midst of my own misery I felt sorry for her too. Widowed early with an only child she had brought Richard up to be as principled as herself. She had worked hard to enable him to stay on at school for his 'A' levels, and afterwards while he trained as an accountant. No wonder she felt let down and disappointed by his actions.

"Last night Richard and I wrangled for hours. In our temper we said many hurtful things. He said that it was you who had chosen me to be his wife..."

She shook her head wearily. "That's not quite right, Jackie. True, I liked to think I helped things along a bit... but with the best of intentions for both of you. If you remember we had met some weeks before I introduced you to Richard. He was really taken with you, and so was I. So afterwards I happened to mention what a lovely pretty girl you were, and intelligent with a bubbly personality. I felt so corny when I said to him, 'She'll make somebody a lovely wife.' But I meant it and really hoped it would actually happen."

All these compliments, I thought. Yet whatever was or wasn't true about me, it hadn't been enough to keep my husband from leaving.

***

Slowly the weeks passed, then the months. In time I became used to Richard's absence, and for the children's sake established some sort of routine and tried to keep them happy.

I was determined to get a job of sorts, if only part-time. I could manage on Richard's allowance just about, but I needed an outlet for my own well-being and sanity. I needed to meet and mix with new people.

I enrolled for a crash-course in commercial subjects, going for lessons every day. Fortunately I found that I was more PC literate than I thought and this enabled me to sail through the course and in the final aptitude tests I came third in our group. I was now fairly well qualified and confident of finding a job.

An agency quickly fixed me up with a temporary position in an export company. It was only part time, but it was a start and it fitted in perfectly with school hours.

I was nervous about starting work after a gap of so many years, but I needn't have worried. I settled down quickly and for the first time since Richard left, found a measure of content -- at least during office hours.

Meanwhile, I had been receiving news of Richard through his mother who, though disapproving of his conduct remained loyal and affectionate towards him. She detected that things were not altogether happy between him and Denise, although he never said as much. A mother's instinct, I supposed.

Young as they were the children continually talked of their father. They missed him, and were always wanting to know when he was coming home. Of course, Richard missed them too. After a while the three of us, that is Richard, his mother and myself, made an arrangement for me to take the children to her home every third Sunday morning. Then Richard would call to see them in the afternoon and she would bring them home again after tea.

I agreed to this for the children's sake. I didn't want their father to lose his love for them, nor his interest in their education and their future. I knew that they would always love him and want to see him. They would always return home laden with sweets, books and toys he had bought them. He really spoiled them.

It wasn't easy for me. Richard didn't have to listen to questions like: "Why doesn't Daddy live with us anymore?" and "Where does he live now?" and "When is he coming back?"

I felt like screaming sometimes, when I was tired and at the end of my tether. They began to associate their father with all the good things in life, and me -- with all the tellings-off and denials.

Now that I was working the time passed very quickly. I suppose I had been at the office for about seven or eight months when one day I was sent to see the head of another department. His secretary was off work with the flu and his workload had accumulated very quickly. His name was Douglas Hart.

Immediately I saw him he reminded me of Richard. Physically, there seemed little resemblance. Nevertheless, some of their expressions seemed similar, even one or two mannerisms. Maybe I was just attracted by that type of character.

All I know is that that first morning when I sat on the other side of his desk, taking dictation, I felt confused and awkward. It was not only nervousness that troubled me. "Thank you," he said, with a friendly smile when I had finished.

"When you've typed the letters, let me have them for signature - as soon as possible, please, Jackie." He was polite but firm and fair, an attitude that appealed to me. He also had dignity. But I wasn't so confident of the impression I was making on him.

I continued working in his department for a month, during which time we grew closer to each other. I found myself thinking about him a lot and not feeling so desperate about getting Richard back.

On the morning his secretary returned I had to go back to my own department. I was really disappointed and although I didn't wish his secretary any ill will, I would have gladly carried on in her absence.

Yet for all our good working relationship and rapport we'd established in the month I'd been working for him, all Douglas said was, "Goodbye, Jackie. You've been a great help with the backlog of work. I'm sorry to have to let you go." And that was that. I guess I was hoping for something more than just a formal symbolic pat on the back, especially as I detected something beyond our working relationship.

Afterwards, daily travelling to and fro to work, I often found myself thinking of him. While working in his department I'd heard he wasn't married. I wondered about that too.

Fortunately my life was somewhat brighter now. I was coming to terms with things. The gnawing pain of separation was getting less and less. Between the job, the house and caring for the children I was fully occupied. Time never dragged. Then one day, to my surprise, I sort of bumped into Douglas Hart again. I had left the office and was waiting for the bus home. It was raining and there was no shelter at the stop. I was pacing up and down the pavement impatiently, worrying about the children. It was one of my sharp about-turns that did it.

"Oh!" -- I apologised, turning straight into him. "I'm so sorry."

"Are you okay?" he said. And then we recognised each other.

"What are you doing here, Jackie?" he asked. Then he noticed the huddle of people under brollies. "Silly of me! Of course, you're waiting for the bus. Come on, my car's just around the corner. I'll give you a lift."

"Oh, thanks... but I have to fetch my children from school. I-"

"Don't worry about it," he said quickly. "We'll pick them up together.

In the car he asked me about the children and to my surprise, I found myself pouring out the whole sad tale about my failed marriage, and about the lights in my life, Lucy and Sam.

It seemed so easy and natural to open up to this man. I had talked without thinking about it, because it felt right to do so. Richard's mother was the only other person I could have 'heart-to-hearts' with.

Douglas Hart did not attempt to give me any advice. I was grateful, for after all, what could he say? But to confide in someone sympathetic, someone besides my mother-in-law, who though sorry for me had to be loyal to her son, was a great relief and comfort.

He waited while I collected Lucy and Sam at the school gates and then took us home. The children were excited. The day after, they told their grandmother about the nice man who had given them a lift. She looked at me accusingly.

"It was just a man at the office who happened along and took pity on us because it was raining," I explained, defensively. Her frown softened.

In any case I did not expect to see him again as working part-time I left at three-thirty, and that one afternoon he happened to leave early. However, a week later he rang me at home.

"I hope you don't mind me calling," he said hesitantly. "I just wondered if you'd like to come out with me one evening. Perhaps we could have a meal together? I know a really good Thai restaurant in town.

I could hear my heart thudding. After a moment I somehow managed to say: "Thank you, I'd really like that."

He suggested Friday, and I accepted, hoping Richard's mother would be able to baby-sit for me. She was available and willing. She thought a night out would do me good, though she imagined the person from the office I was to meet was a girl. We went for a drink at a pub first to break the ice, although there wasn't much ice to break. We got along fine. Douglas was so easy to talk to. And the food at the Thai restaurant was exquisite. As I'd already learned, he was a bachelor. He had once been engaged, but it had not worked out. His fiancée had met someone else and broken off the engagement.

I enjoyed our evening. I hadn't been so happy in a long while. Perhaps it was stupid, but when Richard left me I felt humiliated. I thought I was no longer attractive as a woman and had lost all confidence in myself and my trust in men. Being with Douglas restored my morale and gave me back my self-respect. I began to look forward to the future with confidence, instead of apprehension.

After that evening I continued to see him, whenever my mother-in-law could spare time for the children. I fell in love with him without really being aware it was happening.

***

Soon my whole attitude, my joy, my patience towards the children were sure indications that I was over the worst and things were coming round, and Richard's mother was not slow in drawing her own conclusions. She was never petty though, refusing to come and baby-sit because I was meeting a man. But she continually worried that I might start divorce proceedings, for by now it was obvious Douglas wanted to marry me. He was willing to take the children, saying he would even adopt them as his own if Richard would agree to it.

I realised it was only right that I discuss Douglas's offer regarding the children with Marion. I wish I hadn't because she suddenly became upset and her eyes filled with tears.

"They are Richard's children and my grandchildren," she said brokenly. "I don't want to lose them."

"Whose father has deserted them," I said sharply, near to tears myself.

"No Jackie, that's not true. Richard continues to see them, he loves them so much. Besides, I think..." she hesitated. "I think he's unhappy. He doesn't look well, and though he has always asked about you, lately he has spoken in a different way -- as if he's desperately missing you. Last week he even said he regretted leaving home." Her voice grew quieter but more emotional as she added, "He hasn't admitted it to me, but I'm pretty certain he and Denise have split up."

"So that's the only reason he regrets leaving home," I said bitterly.

Marion dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. "There's another reason too, against getting a divorce, I mean, Richard told me there is talk of making him a junior partner when Jack Morris retires in a few months. They must think highly of Richard, because as you know he has little capital to put into the firm. However, if Mr Morris gets to hear any talk about divorce, I'm certain Richard will be out of the running. The old man is strictly religious and thinks one should stand by one's vows."

Though I thought and worried about what Richard's mother had said, I put it to the back of my mind. I was so taken-up with Douglas, so happy with him that I didn't want to have to think about anything that might spoil my new-found happiness. Then I wondered why he should love me, an ordinary woman with two children in tow.

The difficulty was that the present was not enough for Douglas. He continually spoke of the future, of my getting a divorce from Richard and marrying him. I realised sooner or later I must come to a decision. Douglas was urging me to spend a weekend with him. I think he thought this would be a turning point, that I would consider such an act more binding, and that it would finally drive me into getting a divorce and taking the children from Richard.

I felt torn apart. I was in love with Douglas and anxious to please him; but worrying too, about the children missing opportunities in life, for it would make a big difference if Richard did become a partner in the firm. Then my mother-in-law making it worse by telling me Richard was repentant, the children always wanting their father at home like "other children's daddies." I suddenly felt confused and unsure of myself.

In the end I agreed to the weekend with Douglas. Richard's mother took the children home with her as they were to see their father on the Sunday in any case. I am sure she did not imagine for one minute that I was going away with Douglas. She wouldn't have expected it of me.

He had reserved a room in a quiet hotel in a seaside town where hopefully we weren't likely to be seen by anyone who knew us.

We arrived on the Friday evening and I felt horribly guilty when he signed the register, conspicuous, as if somehow everybody knew about our little secret, which was ridiculous.

Later, in Douglas's arms, I forgot my inhibitions and felt no sense of guilt whatsoever. After all, I'd have married him at once had I been free.

Amazingly, we had two days of golden sun in which to wander, two nights of bright moonlight streaming through our window as we lay in bed. Douglas was wonderful. There were no moments of awkwardness or disappointment. They were the happiest days and nights of my life, far more precious and exciting to me than my honeymoon with Richard had been, though I had been in love with Richard at the time. But no one had ever meant, no one could ever mean, more to me than Douglas did now.

Sunday evening came all too quickly. He drove me as near as possible to my mother-in-law's house where I was to collect the children.

We parted a couple of streets away. A brief kiss in the car and it was all over. He held my hand for a few seconds as I stood on the pavement, a hurt, sad expression in his eyes.

"I feel as if you're being taken from me -- physically," he whispered in my ear.

My eyes filled with tears. "I know, I feel it too," I said. Then, almost snatching my hand from his, I hurried away with a feeling of emptiness now overpowering the joy we'd shared.

***

Richard's mother opened the door to me. She seemed different, excited about something. The children were ready with their coats on, holding the books and toys, which, as usual, their father had bought for them.

"Grandma's coming home with us," they announced excitedly.

"Why not stay the night then," I said to her. "The bed is made up."

On the way home my thoughts were still with Douglas. Then it dawned on me that she was still talking about the weekend and I recovered myself sufficiently to say I'd enjoyed it and retained the presence of mind to avoid saying where and with whom I had been.

Later, when Lucy and Sam were safely in bed, she spoke to me earnestly.

"Please bear with me, Jackie and don't say 'No' until I've finished what I have to say..." She composed herself and took a deep breath. "The fact is that Richard and Denise have split up. Apparently, Richard's been living alone for the past six months. He has no feelings for Denise anymore, he says. He began to realise within a few weeks that it was all a mistake. But as he said, he'd cut himself off from you and the children, given up so much but didn't have the nerve to come back right away..." Marion paused and took a deep breath. "According to Richard, Denise became more and more difficult to live with. The truth was that to her the whole thing was probably just a little adventure, and within a year she told him quite casually that she thought their relationship had run its course. Richard suspected she'd found someone else, someone more exciting." She stopped for more breath and composed herself for the big admission I knew was coming.