The Missing Husband

by Natasha Boydell

  She wasn’t stupid: she knew that the majority of married men who had affairs never actually left their wives and she wasn’t naïve or arrogant enough to think that her situation was any different. But it can’t hurt to ask, she told herself. And if it all went tits up, she could just move to France on her own and get on with her life.

  Sometimes she thought of Pete’s wife and children, continuing to live their lives completely unaware of this other life that Pete was living with another woman, and she would feel a pang of guilt and remorse. But then she reminded herself that the marriage was already unhappy, already broken, before she came along. And, she told herself, it was better for the children to have two happy, divorced parents than to have two miserable, together parents. She wasn’t particularly maternal and had no interest in having children of her own but she’d make an effort with the kids, build a relationship with them and encourage Pete to spend time with them as much as possible. This would help to alleviate her guilt at what she was asking him to do.

  When she first mentioned it to Pete she wasn’t at all surprised when he dismissed the idea immediately. After all, it was pretty out there. But she had played her hand slowly and carefully and to be honest it didn’t take that much persuasion in the end. They’d had that little bump, when she’d pushed him too far and he’d called it off with her but after a minor panic immediately afterwards she’d known he would come back. Their relationship was too important to throw away, she knew it and he knew it. Within a couple of months, he was not only on board with the idea, he’d got a job and handed in his notice at work. She literally had never felt happier in her life. She could see them together in that farmhouse, curled up together by the log burner in the winter and sitting out on the veranda in the summer, drinking wine, enjoying each other’s company, far removed from the relentless hamster wheel of London and far away from his wife too.

  They would grow old together there – the ones that got away, their friends would say, the ones that were brave enough to choose a better life. As it got closer to their agreed departure date the excitement practically overcame her. She gave her notice to the temp agency and to her landlord and started sorting through her stuff, giving as much as possible to charity so that she was only taking the bare minimum of things to France. She wanted to shed her old life like unwanted clothes and start again afresh on the continent. She didn’t even care if they never got married: all she had ever wanted was him. And now she had him!

  The night before they were due to leave, she sat alone in her flat, looked at all the empty space around her and thought, This is it, I’m never going to be alone again. She couldn’t resist sending him a quick message:

  Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow xx.

  His response came almost immediately:

  Literally counting down the minutes. Can’t come soon enough xxx.

  The next day she was up and dressed bright and early. As she closed the door to her flat for the last time and put the key through the letterbox, she sent Pete a quick message to let him know she was on the way and then paused, looking at the battered old blue door and revelling in the moment. This is actually happening, she thought, dreams really do come true. This time tomorrow, she and Pete would be in France, far removed from London, real life, the commute, the complication of Pete’s family. What will we be doing? she wondered. Sipping coffee while eating a freshly baked croissant in a Parisian café? Or still in bed, wrapped around each other, the whole day ahead of us, full of possibilities? She couldn’t stop grinning as she walked down the steps and out on to the street, wheeling her suitcase behind her as she headed towards the station.

  She made her way to St Pancras Station and found a seat in the café where they had agreed to meet at 9am. As she sipped her skinny latte and looked around at the thousands of people rushing around on their way to work, she felt somehow removed from them all already. This isn’t my life anymore, she thought, I’m destined for better. She imagined Pete emerging from the crowds, walking towards her with that heart-breaking grin he had, and she felt like she was going to explode with joy.

  She checked the time on her phone – he was five minutes late. Typical Pete, she thought, he’s always keeping me waiting. Five minutes turned to ten and then to twenty. The first stirrings of doubt began to form in her mind. She checked her phone to see if he’d messaged her but there was nothing. She looked around, scanning the crowds in front of her, desperately looking for his face but it didn’t appear.

  Forty minutes later, he still hadn’t showed up and he hadn’t responded to her message asking where he was either. Her mild concern was rapidly developing into full on panic. What the fuck was going on? They were going to miss the Eurostar at this rate. Had he got last-minute cold feet? She had been so convinced that he was beyond that but now she began to wonder again. Could something have happened between yesterday and today to change his mind? Or perhaps something had happened to one of the kids which had delayed him, but he’d be coming later? But why hadn’t he messaged her? Should she get on the train? Should she wait? Jesus, it was forty-five minutes now and her head was spinning. The caffeine from the second coffee she’d had while waiting for him had added to her nerves and she was feeling jittery and edgy.

  There was no going back now. She had no flat, no furniture and no job. She literally had the bags she carried with her and that was it. She was going to France, with or without him. Only she hadn’t allowed the possibility of it being without him to enter her mind before. Now it was all she could think about.

  Suddenly she heard the familiar beep of her phone. She felt an immediate flood of relief when she saw his name come up. He’s just running late, she thought, no need to overreact, it’s all going to be fine. Then she read the message.

  Sorry, I can’t do it. I can’t leave my wife and children, they mean too much to me. You have to understand. Please don’t contact me again. I’m changing my number. I’m so sorry. Goodbye x.

  It felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. For a few seconds she couldn’t breathe as she stared at the message on her screen. She felt the shock permeate every inch of her body and she wanted to run to the toilet and be sick. She typed back:

  What the hell, Pete? Is this a joke? It’s not funny.

  She pressed send and waited for the two ticks to appear, indicating that her message had been received. But seconds turned into minutes and there was no sign of them. He must have turned WhatsApp off. She immediately threw all caution to the wind and called him, something she had never done before. She was relieved when it rang, a chance to talk to him, but the feeling quickly drained away from her as the phone continued to ring, unanswered, before going to voicemail. She immediately hit redial but the same thing happened.

  ‘Shit,’ she said aloud. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’ She looked at the time. If she didn’t head to the Eurostar terminal now she was going to miss her train. She had to make her mind up and it had to be now. She threw some coins on the table for the waitress, stood up and walked towards the terminal.

  She made it on to the train by the skin of her teeth. She stowed her bags, took off her coat and sat on one of the two seats that she had reserved. Looking at the empty one next to her she felt both enraged and defeated. How could he have done this to her? How could she have been so stupid as to let him do this to her? She’d thought he was this amazing man, that she’d finally met someone special but he was a coward just like the rest of them. Full of bullshit. And now here she was, completely alone, on the fast train to a new life that she didn’t know if she wanted to live on her own.

  She thought of her dad’s house and all the work that was needed to make it liveable in. Could she do it by herself? Could she really live there all alone and start a business? Money wasn’t a problem, she had enough in savings from her parents, but would she go mad on her own out there in rural France?

  How dare Pete betray her like this! How dare he! He’d had ample opportunity to change his mind before it was too late, wh
y wait until now? God, she was angry. She picked up her phone and tried to call him again. It went unanswered. She tried three more times, not even caring if Kate answered anymore, but it continued to ring out.

  She went on to Facebook and looked for his profile. They weren’t friends but she knew he had one from when she’d done the usual online stalking of him when they first started hooking up. But it wasn’t there anymore, he must have deleted it. She tried Twitter and LinkedIn but there was nothing there either. She didn’t have his personal email address and his work emails were probably being forwarded now. She had no other way of contacting him. Bastard! Bastard, bastard, bastard!

  Would he change his mind, she wondered? Would he call her in the next few days and tell her he’d made a massive mistake and that he was on the way? She allowed herself to hope for a minute, visibly sitting up in her seat at the thought before sinking back down into it. When a married man says they’re not coming, they’re not coming. It was over.

  Her dream had burst as easily as a flimsy balloon at a child’s birthday party. She thought about her friends in London. They had known she had a boyfriend and that she was moving to France with him but they didn’t know he was married. She wasn’t one of those girls who had a tight-knit group of gal pals who gossiped and told each other everything. She preferred to keep her personal life to herself. She’d had a leaving dinner with them a few days ago, they had hugged her, given her presents and told her to keep in touch. The gap she’d left behind would soon be filled by something else as they got on with their lives. They would forget about her and London would forget about her. She felt instinctively that she couldn’t go back. She could only go forward.

  So France then, or somewhere else? The world was her oyster and the thought filled her with hope all of a sudden. She had no ties, no family, money in the bank, she could literally go wherever she wanted, do whatever she wanted. She would go to Paris, regroup, consider her options and then make a decision.

  Screw Pete and his unhappy marriage that he had just committed himself to for the rest of his life. He would regret this in the years to come, he would remember this as the moment that could have changed his life forever, and he was too chickenshit to go for it. He’s the loser, not me. And clinging on to that thought, she looked out of the window as London and the UK sped away from her.

  23

  Pete

  Today was the day he was leaving his wife. His passport was burning a hole in his jacket pocket and his holdall, which he’d hastily packed while Kate was in the bath the previous evening, was waiting in the wardrobe. He woke up with a sense of both dread and excitement. He’d tossed and turned for much of the night before eventually falling into a fitful sleep, plagued by a strange dream in which he was walking through Covent Garden naked while everyone stared at him and Kate and Claire looked on, eating croissants together and laughing at him.

  When he woke up, he almost wanted to tell Kate about it: she loved a good dream analysis and would probably be able to tell him what it meant but of course he couldn’t breathe a word. This realisation almost made him feel wistful, like he had already lost her even though he was lying only a few inches away from her.

  A few minutes later the girls bounded into the bedroom, wriggling between them and snuggling under the covers. Kate stirred and sat up, looking briefly across at him before slipping out of bed. ‘Rachel’s coming early today to take the girls to a breakfast fundraiser at the school. I’ll go and help them get ready’.

  He nodded and reached for his phone, checking his messages to see if there was one from Claire but there wasn’t. He wondered what she was doing right now. She was an early riser so she’d probably be up and about already, getting dressed and finishing her packing. Maybe she’d have some music on and she’d be singing as she packed, in good spirits and excited about the day ahead. He was so envious of her then, her lack of baggage and total freedom to do this without any guilt or fallout.

  While Kate was in the bathroom he crept to the wardrobe and checked his holdall. He’d packed light, just some casual clothes and toiletries. He had the money that he’d taken from their ISA, which he’d put into his personal bank account a few weeks ago, so he’d have plenty of cash to tide him over until he started his new job in a few weeks. He didn’t want to withdraw any money from their joint account or use their credit card because he knew Kate would be checking it like a hawk and he didn’t like the idea of her knowing where he was and what he was spending money on.

  The previous Friday had been his leaving party at work. Kate had no idea, of course, she thought he was on a boys’ night out with some of his workmates. There had been a fairly impressive turnout, he’d been at the company for years and everyone wanted to wish him well. Claire had asked him whether she should come but he’d told her not to. No one at work knew about them apart from Dan and Carl and so he’d pretty much have to ignore her all night so that they didn’t arouse any suspicion which would be increasingly difficult the more he had to drink. He supposed it didn’t matter who knew about them anymore but he still felt like he had to keep up appearances, right until the very end and he didn’t want people gossiping. He wanted to be remembered as Pete Garland, the upstanding family man who was leaving because he’d got a better job, not for any other reason.

  As the night wore on, people started to leave in dribs and drabs, giving him a hug, shaking his hand, slapping him on the back and wishing him well, until it was only him and Dan left, nursing their pints in a corner of the pub.

  ‘Are you absolutely sure about this?’ Dan had asked, as he’d known he would.

  ‘No,’ he admitted. ‘But it’s happening now.’

  ‘It’s not too late to back out, you know. You could still change your mind.’

  ‘We’re leaving on Monday. The tickets are booked. It’s done, Dan.’

  ‘But it doesn’t have to be, if you’re having second thoughts, that’s all I’m saying.’

  Poor Dan. He’d been a good friend and he’d tried not to judge him too much but it had been clear all along that he simply couldn’t get on board with what Pete was doing. A few years ago, Pete would probably have felt the same himself. The thought of abandoning his family and running off with another woman would have been appalling to him. But so much had changed since then.

  ‘I’m having second, third and fourth thoughts,’ he confessed. ‘But deep down I still feel like I’m doing the right thing. You know, we only get one shot at life and I want to spend it happy, not stuck in an unhappy marriage with a woman who doesn’t love me anymore. Given some time, I genuinely think Kate will agree.’

  Dan snorted into his pint. ‘All right, Pete, you tell yourself that.’

  ‘Look, you don’t approve, I get that and I appreciate it. But I want you to know that I’m going to be the best father to my girls that I can be. I love them, Dan, I do.’ He realised that he was more drunk than he’d thought and the booze was making him feel emotional. He had to swallow a few times to stop the tears from coming.

  ‘I know you do, Pete, I know. What a situation you’ve got yourself into, mate.’

  They clinked glasses in a morose cheers and looked down at their drinks. Soon after, they hugged it out and went home. There was nothing left to say.

  He’d spent the next two days being the usual weekend dad. He’d come so far, there was no point in changing the plan now. The letter he’d written to Kate was hidden among a pile of work papers, ready to be put into position on Monday morning. On Sunday, Kate took the girls to a party and he had a couple of hours to himself. Switching on his laptop to browse the sporting news he had a sudden urge to delete all of his social media accounts. When news got out that he’d left Kate, he imagined that everyone would be clamouring on to Facebook or Twitter to try and gain some clues as to where he was or what he was doing. Best to delete them all and not give them any ammunition whatsoever, he thought. He quite liked the idea of becoming anonymous, with no digital footprint. One by one he went onto each
social media platform and deactivated his accounts. It was strangely cathartic.

  On Friday he’d gone out in his lunchbreak and bought a new phone and a pay-as-you-go SIM card. Currently no one had his new number, not even Claire. When the time was right, he would call Kate so that she had a way of contacting him if there were any emergencies and so that he could speak with the girls. He’d decided to leave his old mobile phone behind – he didn’t want to be fielding calls and messages from Kate and all his friends when they found out that he’d done a runner. It would still be there, waiting for him, if he decided to come back.

  He looked at the clock. He’d better have a shower: it would soon be time for him to leave. He glanced over at Kate, who had returned from supervising the girls and was getting dressed in silence, feeling such a mixture of emotions that he could barely contain them. He was fizzing over with excitement at what lay ahead, at the thought of Claire making her way to St Pancras Station, waiting for him in the café they had agreed to meet at. He was as excited as a child on Christmas Day and Claire was definitely the best present he could have asked for. But he also felt jittery and nervous and part of him just wanted to hide under the covers and never come out. It felt like he had an angel on one shoulder who was continuously warning him against doing this while the devil on the other side was jumping with glee and telling him to ignore the warnings. He just had to stop procrastinating and go now; he felt like the walls were closing in on him and if he didn’t leave soon, he would never escape.