The Last Year of Being Single

by Sarah Tucker

  Katrina—‘Yes. She screamed at me for half an hour and told me it wasn’t her fault and she had a fabulous relationship with my father and that it was nothing to do with her and I felt like shit and didn’t hear much of the rest of what she said.’

  Sarah—‘Have you spoken to anyone else?’

  Katrina—‘Some of Henry’s friends at work. His boss’s wife, who I know fairly well, and she’s absolutely shocked. When I suspected something I contacted her and she said no way would Henry have an affair, and she asked Henry’s boss and he said no way would Henry have an affair. And, Sarah, he’s having a fucking affair, and when I get my hands on this bitch I’m going to kill her.’

  Sarah—‘Katrina. Did you see this coming? I thought you and Henry had the perfect marriage. One gorgeous little boy. A big house in the country. House in Italy, isn’t it?’

  Katrina—(sobbing now)—‘Yes, in Umbria. Very pretty. Rustic. Not much needed doing to it. We bought it because—well, Henry thought it would be nice to retire there, and things were getting a bit stressed with work and stuff and he thought this would help. But it hasn’t, obviously.’

  Sarah—‘Has he said he loves this girl?’

  Katrina—‘No, he says it’s just an affair and that it’s nothing to do with the divorce, and he doesn’t feel guilty and doesn’t want to be forgiven because there’s nothing tacky about it. And that he’s moved on and I must too. And out. And that these things happen.’

  Sarah—(thinking on feet here)—‘Katrina, what you do is you contact a good London solicitor. I don’t know any, but I know there are ones that specialise in this sort of thing. Go to see one. Tell him what you’ve told me. Tell him everything. Warts and all. Tell him what you know about how much money he’s got—which you probably don’t, coz he’s a mean old git—and listen to what he says. Word for word. And if I were you I would take his advice. Do you think it’s worth saving? The marriage?’

  Katrina—‘I love him, Sarah. I love him. He’s my life. He was so wonderful when I first met him, and then we eventually got engaged and married, and we’ve had our ups and downs and redundancy, but we’ve pulled through and he’s doing well now. And he started to go to the gym last month and he’s never done that. Sarah, he’s even got a personal trainer, and he looks great and then this happens.’

  Men are such a fucking cliché. I didn’t want to insult Katrina by asking, Got new underwear too, then, did he? I wanted to get hold of Henry and bash his head in. But didn’t think that would be constructive to say or do at the moment. Not with a friend as wired as Katrina. She needed to be calmed down and needed some TLC and so did Gerry and she didn’t have anyone to turn to. I called Catherine.

  Sarah—‘Catherine?’

  Catherine—‘Hi, there. How you? Excited about the big day?’

  Sarah—‘No.’(Not realising how blunt I sounded, but realising how honest the answer was.) ‘I’m phoning about Katrina. Henry’s found someone else and wants her and Gerry to move out of the house.’

  Catherine—‘He what? No, surely not. Not Henry. He’s as sweet as they come. He’s like Paul.’

  Sarah—‘Yeah, well. Worm has turned and all that. He wants out. Wants space. Wants her out and wants his house back. Told her to see a solicitor but don’t know any. Your sister got divorced. Who did she use? Coz she did OK, didn’t she?’

  Catherine—‘Yeah, think she used Ottley, Studd and Parsons. Becoming like ad companies, these places. Anyway, she used them and did OK. Got just under half. You don’t get over half, but they’ve been married what—for seven, eight years is it now? Went to their wedding, I think. Big fuck-off affair—six tiers to the cake. Bloody thing nearly fell down. Big band. Long honeymoon. Marriage made in heaven and all that. And now this. What’s he gone off with?’

  Sarah—‘Dunno. Girlie ten years younger. Traded in for a new model. He told Katrina that it’s not tacky and their marriage was over already.’

  Catherine—‘Convenient and fucking worthy of him. Bet he told her to move on. They usually do. That’s what my sister was told by her ex. “I’ve moved on; now you should.” Men don’t deal with things, they just compartmentalise and say, “Hey, dealt with it.” Wankers.’

  Sarah—‘You sound aggressive. What’s happened to Liam? Surely he’s different?’

  Catherine—‘He’s gone off with some woman. I think someone else in the yoga class. More money and better flexibility than me, probably. Anyway, don’t talk to me about it at the moment. Still sort of seeing him, but I don’t know any more.’

  I think, you do know. Just not admitting it. And you’re not ready to deal with it yet.

  Sarah—‘He will come round.’

  Catherine—‘I can go and see Katrina. Do you have time today?’

  Sarah—‘Think so.’

  Catherine—‘Let’s go, then. I’ll call her and ask her what time’s convenient.’

  Must admit, don’t think this is a particularly good omen so close to wedding day. What with John and abortion and now this, my view of marriage is getting more warped by the second. I’d been to weddings where the groom had said ‘till death us do part’ and it was the groom’s third marriage and I’d been to the previous two. I’d started to get cynical about the institution of marriage. Not just the men who were getting married, who were making mistakes, or didn’t want commitment, or had chosen the wrong girl, or had grown apart from them, or whatever excuse my male friends came up with every time they decided enough was enough and happened to find someone else at the right time and, hey, they’d moved on.

  But was I any better? Come on, girl, look at yourself. What are the foundations for your marriage? Isn’t a good start, really, is it? Last fling before tying the knot is not turning out the way I’d planned—not that I’d particularly planned it. I’ve fallen in love with John and it’s inconvenient, and I don’t know if it’s real because it’s not a real situation and I don’t know if my feelings for Paul are real coz how can I do that to him? But perhaps this is just my way—so it’s not him at all, it’s me. And it’s not that he’s controlling, it’s that I allow myself to be controlled. So deal with it. Preferably before the wedding day, darling.

  Catherine texts:

  Message received

  Thnk we should go round now. K’s in state. C u at her place or I can drive you there. R u ok for that?

  Message sent:

  Meet u there. xx

  Katrina lives in Surrey. Same journey as had done with John on what it seemed like hundreds of times. Over the bridge. That beautiful bridge where now involuntarily I get butterflies at the anticipation of seeing and being with him. Like some druggie who gets high just with the anticipation of having a fix. Knowing the high is just round the corner. John’s my fix. Sexual, emotional and intellectual. But he doesn’t have it all. That’s why I’m going to marry Paul, right? Right, Sarah, right. Just remember that. Keep it in your head. God, I was doing lots of this head-talking these days. Thinking too much, as Paul would say. But perhaps should have done this at the beginning of our relationship and wouldn’t be in the crap I’ve put myself in now. Anyway, forget self and focus on Katrina, who needs help.

  Katrina lives in Barntley Road. Middle-upper suburban class. Big houses with big fronts and big gardens and big interior-designed rooms. Most commute into the City and most wives either work in the City (how they met husband) or stay at home and look after children. Katrina works part-time and looks after Gerry. Who is adorable. And probably a bit confused at this moment.

  Catherine’s car not in drive so I’m first. Knock on door. Katrina opens it.

  I haven’t seen Katrina for months. What with preparation and John and Paul and dinner parties with mainly Paul’s friends haven’t seen her. Spoken but not seen. She’s thin. As in seven stone and five foot ten thin. Bones. Her usually smiley round face is gaunt. She has supermodel cheekbones and her wrists are thin enough for me to get my hand around—meeting little finger to thumb, with room to spare. I want to cry
but I don’t. I’m shocked. Horrified. Angry. Very angry. How could Henry do this to her? I’m so very, very angry.

  But I don’t know the whole story. Sarah, you don’t know the whole story. Cool it. Are you angry just because of Katrina or are you taking some of your own baggage, your own guilt into this? Keep it simple. Just be there to support, not to give advice. Just support. That’s what she needs. That and a fucking good lawyer.

  Sarah—‘You look great. Thin, but great.’

  Katrina—‘Liar. I feel like shit. Come in, Sarah. I need a hug. Big hug.’

  Give Katrina a big hug. Not too tight. I don’t want to break her.

  We go into her perfect interior-designed kitchen, with Aga which fits in perfectly with the setting. And sit at the table with the centrepiece of flowers from Harvey Nichols. Present to herself, she says. She wants pretty things round her at the moment that make her happy. Gerry is upstairs, asleep already. She says she doesn’t know where Henry is. He hasn’t phoned, but probably won’t be back. Or may be back but will be drunk and they’re now sleeping in separate bedrooms. So she wouldn’t know anyway.

  Sarah—‘Catherine should be over soon. She’s got the name and contact number of a good solicitor. Not saying you need one, Katrina. But just in case. You can see them and they will tell you what is what.’

  Katrina—‘I’ve already seen one, Sarah. I know I didn’t tell you, but I’ve got a male friend who works in town and I’ve told him stuff in the past. About how unhappy I was in the marriage. And I had a fling with him in the past. Henry found out about it, but said he forgave me, and that was about two years ago. I thought it was all sorted, but it obviously wasn’t.

  ‘Anyway, he threw that up in my face and said that he couldn’t cope with me having an affair, thought he could but he couldn’t. And I said that was two years ago and why couldn’t he cope now when he felt he could then? Why the delayed reaction? And he said it had just taken time to make him realise that he was unhappy as well and that he had to move on and it was best we split now for the sake of Gerry than try and make it work and wait until Gerry was a teenager and that that would be a worse scenario.’

  Sarah—‘Do you know anything about the other woman?’

  Katrina—‘No. Well, not strictly true. He was seen with her by a mutual friend and he’s been introducing her to some of his broker friends as his new girlfriend. He’s been telling them that we’re getting divorced because I had an affair and making it sound very one-sided. So I haven’t really called anyone.’

  Sarah—‘Did you tell him about the affair or did he find out?’

  Katrina—‘He found out. He read my e-mail. I had a virus on it and he wanted to sort it out and find out who sent it to me and this guy—well, he’d sent me an e-mail saying how much he missed me and, well, you know, loved me and wanted me, and got, well, quite explicit and Henry read that and it was obviously very hurtful and he was angry and I thought he was going to chuck me out then and there but he didn’t.’

  Sarah—‘Perhaps he didn’t because he couldn’t, and now he’s thought about it. But I think after a certain number of months—don’t know how long for—you’re seen to condone the affair so you can’t cite it in divorce proceedings. Read about it somewhere. Anyway, he can’t cite that. But you can cite his. If you want to. Do you want to divorce him?’

  Katrina—‘No, Sarah. I love him. He’s the only one for me. When I first met him he treated me beautifully. I thought my prince had come and all that. Know it sounds so corny. I’m not stupid. You know me, I’m a cynic, but he changed my view on men. Thought he was different. I’ve met my fair share of emotional fuck-wits. Never gone out with a married man myself, but met many “happily married” who were prepared for more than a one-night fling. Those insecure pricks who have lovely wives to go home to and yet still play away. Coz they’re insecure, or their wives don’t understand them, or don’t have sex with them, or won’t have the right sex with them, or they’ve grown apart, or whatever or whatever. The ones you don’t think are like that but they are. But you never think you’re married to one. But I am. I am.’ (She bursts into tears.)

  Message received:

  Running late. Shd be there in 1/2 hour. C. xx

  Message received:

  How u? Miss u. Love u. J xxxx

  Can’t text now. Rude. I’ll text J later. In the loo or something. Always good place to text.

  Sarah—‘Do you know anything else about the other woman?’

  Katrina—‘He met her in the gym. Think she was working out too, or something. She works in publishing. Financial publishing, I think. One of our friends met her. He’s been introducing her as his new girlfriend and saying we’re considering divorce because of my affair, but it’s not like that. He’s painting himself as the victim. My friend says this girl is the total opposite of me. As in completely. She’s just over four foot. Sarah—that’s a fucking munchkin. Not that I’ve got anything against short people. Only the ones that are fucking my husband. She’s dark—red hair. I’m blonde. She’s quiet, I’m told. But I don’t think she’s quiet. I just think she’s quiet now coz she’s in a shitty situation. Think of it. There is a young child involved. It isn’t just me. It’s Gerry as well.’

  She sobs again. For five minutes. I go over to hug her and feel her pain, and she’s shaking and I think she’s going to be sick, but she says she’s fine.

  Sarah—‘Have you eaten?’

  Katrina—‘Yeah. I’m eating, but it’s going through me. I can literally feel the stress burning it off me. No diet has anything on the Divorce Diet. I’ve lost two stone in a month, Sarah. Two stone. And I’ve got to keep it together for Gerry coz I don’t want to lose him. Not through ill health. And I can’t even beat up the bitch coz she sounds as though she’s only a bit taller than my three-year-old and I could lose Gerry if I attacked her. And Henry is being such a bastard. I’ve never seen him like this. A real dark side. And I’ve been to clairvoyants and tarot card readers and spiritual healers and they all say that I have to move on and that Henry has moved on and is like a racehorse and wants out and that’s that, and he’s surrounded by friends who will tell him to move on, coz he’s not telling them the whole story so they’re just validating what he’s saying about the marriage and himself. And, you know, not one of the two hundred people who turned up at our wedding have contacted me to say, Hi, Katrina, just ringing to see if you are OK. Know Henry has told me his side of the story—but what’s yours? Or, Do you want to talk about it? Or, Are you still OK?’

  Sarah—‘People get embarrassed, Katrina. You know what people are like. And then others are just nosy and like a good gossip. They lead such little lives themselves they have to live vicariously, off other people’s lives—or through soap operas—to make them feel, Hey, I haven’t such a shitty or boring or conventional life myself. I’m OK. You need genuine friends around you—and, Katrina, at least they’ve made your choice for you. They’ve made it for you. They’re not your friends. You’ll see them with better eyes now. And you have Gerry.’

  Katrina—‘Oh, yes, I have him. He’s wonderful, Sarah. And Henry’s so stupid. He’s missing out on such a wonderful time with Gerry at the moment. He’s becoming a real little person. So wonderful. And I want Henry to see as much as he can of Gerry. Not for Henry’s sake, but Gerry’s. He needs his daddy. Needs to feel his daddy wants to see him. To be with him. It’s so unfair.’

  Sarah—‘So, your mother was no help?’

  Katrina—‘You joking? She’s like yours, Sarah. She’s barking. From a different age. But at least she believes in marriage and stayed married to my dad. But perhaps he was the one who believed in marriage and now it’s the men who don’t believe in it any more. I don’t know. I don’t know.’

  Sarah—‘How about Henry’s parents? Do they know?’

  Katrina—‘Yes, they know. But they’ve heard Henry’s side of the story. You know, like Paul’s, they’re a close family. Well, I say close. The children don’t tel
l the parents anything, but they all stay close together. They only live five miles from here. Doubt if Paul will ever move far from his parents, Sarah. Take that into account. These close families are really just insular and isolated. I’ve never felt a part of their family and this has made it worse. You know Henry’s Catholic too?’

  Sarah—‘Yes, I know.’

  Katrina—‘Well, I’d thought they would be all anti-divorce, but, no, they think it’s best that he moves on and finds happiness. Perhaps even with this midget, and these things happen, and it’s very sad for Gerry. And I’ve become this non-person and, for God’s sake, Sarah, I’ve been married to the guy for over eight years now. How superficial is that?’

  Sarah—‘It’s to be expected, Katrina. He is their son. Favourite, I think. I’ve got it with Paul and will always have it with Paul. He can do no wrong. You knew what you were getting into when you married Henry, didn’t you?’

  Katrina—‘No, I didn’t. Didn’t think he was such an arsehole. Could be so cruel. You know he went on holiday with her? Went on holiday with her and missed Gerry’s third birthday party two weeks ago. He went to the Caribbean. Some big island. He wanted space and wanted to go on holiday and wanted to go with her. And told me he was. But said he wasn’t asking my permission, just how I felt about it. How I fucking felt about it! Well, I said I wasn’t very happy about it and he said he wouldn’t go and I said thank you but the wanker did anyway.’

  Sarah—‘Why do you want to stay married to this wanker?’

  Katrina—‘Coz I love him.’

  Sarah—‘Doesn’t sound as though he loves you, though, Katrina. Men are different from women. They handle things—or rather don’t handle things—in a different way. It’s the only way they can. That’s why I’ve got to find work, a career, a lifestyle that will make me happy, totally independent of Paul, though I love him. Because I know he’s human and he’ll let me down—’ (and has already) ‘—like I will probably let him down.’ (Have already.)