Riding Solo

by Woods, Karen

  Martin was quiet for a second but she knew he was still outside the door, she could hear his breathing. “Grace I think it was a mid-life crisis. I just felt old, and when this young woman took a shine to me, I lost my head.”

  Grace held her head against the door as he told her his mistress was a younger woman. This was her worst nightmare, how could she ever compete with a younger woman? Firm breasts, tight skin, she was fighting a losing battle. Standing to her feet, she looked in the mirror hung on the wall. She wasn’t old, she was just mature. Her chestnut brown hair was still as shiny as ever and she was still proud of her figure. Her breasts were a bit saggy, but nothing to complain about, she’d seen worse. Grace pulled at the loose skin around her cheeks and shook her head; she could never compete with a younger woman. Grace and Martin’s sex life wasn’t that bad either, they only had sex at the end of each month, but she thought that was all he wanted. She never once turned him down for sex, but now she knew why he wasn’t interested anymore, he was getting it somewhere else.

  “How long has it been going on?” Grace shouted from behind the door.

  Silence for a moment, and then she could hear Martin’s desperate low voice. “Eight months,” he gasped.

  She gripped the white sink basin. “Do you love her,” she asked.

  “No Grace, I love you. I’m just a daft old man, who should have known better.”

  “Correct Martin, you should have known better. They say the grass is greener on the other side of the fence don’t they? Well, you should have tried mowing your own fucking lawn and you wouldn’t be in this situation.”

  Grace needed nicotine and fast, her insides were churning. Here she was hidden away in the bathroom when it was her husband who was in the wrong, she ran to the door. Grace unlocked the bolt and marched outside with her head held high. After all, she had nothing to be ashamed of; it was him who’d betrayed her. Martin tried to stop her moving with a gentle grip. Grace darted her eyes at him and spoke in a firm voice. “Take your dirty no good hands from me. You will never touch my body again as long as I live. You have ruined anything we’ve had. It’s over; I want you out of here. If you don’t go I’ll phone the police,” she stood with her hands firmly fixed on her hips and hissed at him. “I’m sure your new woman will love you all to herself now anyway,” she rolled her eyes. “You can be a proper couple now; you have my blessing.”

  Martin was hysterical as he followed her about the house. “Please Grace, please don’t end our marriage over this, we can sort it out.” Grace was a woman of substance, she’d lived on this council estate all her married life with her husband, and she knew she could never forgive him for his infidelity. The neighbours would have made a mockery out of her; she was always the first to tell her friends that if a man cheated on you, they should be kicked out on their arse. No second chances, no nothing. No, there was no thinking about this, her husband had to go. Finding her cigarettes Grace sat on the edge of the bed, her head was spinning. She had so much to do, but for now she had to catch her breath and calm down. She felt like she was going to have a heart attack, her lips were turning blue.

  Martin came back into the bedroom and stood looking at her. “Get packing your stuff,” she cursed. As she watched him drag the clothes from the wardrobe she had so many emotions floating around in her body. Half of her wanted to stop him from going, but the other half wanted him out of her sight as quick as could be, he was diseased as far as she was concerned. Martin snivelled as he pushed his belongings inside a grey sports bag that he’d dragged from under the bed. Grace ran at him and yanked some of the shirts out of his hand. “I bought you this one, and that one, and this. Don’t think for one minute I’m dressing you up for your new woman. Anything I’ve paid for you can leave behind.”

  Martin knew he was fighting a losing battle and left half of his clothing still hung up in the wardrobe. Grace sat staring at her wedding ring. Thirty years the gold band had been sat on her finger for. With strain in her face she yanked it from her finger with force. “There you go, have this back too. It means nothing to me anymore. The circle of trust you called it,” she giggled sarcastically and shook her head. “What a stupid bitch I’ve been. People always thought you were different Martin. My friends even said to me, ‘Oh your Martin is a good one; you’ll never have any problems from him. He’s completely devoted to you.’” She stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray. “A devoted piece of shit that’s all you are. I’ll make sure everyone knows exactly what kind of a man you really are now, trust me Martin. You will have to move away from around here. And,” she stressed, “wait until the boys find out what you’ve been up too. Oh my father my hero,” she chuckled. “We’ll see about that now. They’ll disown you.” Grace flung her wedding ring at her husband’s head and screamed as she watched him pick up his bag. “Don’t you ever darken my doorstep again. I hate you Martin, I’ll never forgive you for this, never.” Martin walked down the stairs slowly; Grace was launching objects at his head as he left. The front door banged shut and all that was left were the tears of a woman with a broken heart.

  Grace informed her neighbour Winnie about her domestic affairs and they both sat around the kitchen table drinking a bottle of wine putting the world to rights. Grace looked like she’d aged ten years, her eyes held so much sadness and she thought she would never smile again. The phone had been ringing non-stop since her husband had left the family home and he’d left over ten desperate messages on the answering machine declaring his undying love for her. Grace deleted them without any hesitation, his voice made her skin crawl. “Are you going to confront that dirty little slapper he’s been sleeping with or what? I mean, women like her deserve their comeuppance. She’s probably lapping it all up thinking he loves her, the dirty trollop.”

  Grace snarled and gritted her teeth tightly together; her knuckles were turning white as she gripped her wine glass. “Oh, don’t you worry about her Winnie. As soon as I’ve done a few investigations I’ll be gunning for her too. She must think I’m some pensioner with a blue rinse who sits at home all day knitting. She’ll get the shock of her life when she sees me. He must have filled her head with so much shit, who does she think she is?” Grace gulped back the last bit of wine in her glass and poured another one. “Let’s fill your glass up Winnie. I want to block that’s bastard’s image right out of my mind.” The glasses were topped up and Grace and Winnie clinked them together. “Here’s to the single life,” Grace toasted.

  The day went into night and Grace was rocking, she was steaming drunk. Once she’d seen Winnie to the door she headed back to the front room and flicked the TV on. A romantic film was on and Grace shook her head slowly. “Yep, rub salt into my wounds why you don’t. Why, of all nights, have the BBC seen fit put this film on tonight? They must have known it was mine and Martin’s film,” she mumbled to herself. The TV was switched off and Grace sat on the floor with her CD collection nearby. Smiling she put her Classic Abba CD on and stretched her body flat out on the floor. With a cig hanging from her mouth she busted out the words of, “The Winner Takes It All.” Every word she sang came from the heart and you could see the pain in her face as she sang along to the lyrics. The night went on and Grace pelted out the love songs from her discs. The music was loud and she didn’t care who was listening. Her heart was broken and she was grieving.

  Grace woke up on the living room floor; her face was lying next to a spilt glass of red wine. As she lifted her head she stopped dead in her tracks, she was in pain. The letterbox was rapping and she could hear someone shouting her name. As she stood up she wobbled. A quick glance in the mirror and she headed to the front door, it was Winnie. “Fuck me, you look as rough as a bear’s arse Grace. What time did you get to sleep last night? I heard your music blaring all night long?”

  “Sssshhh,” Grace stressed in a low voice. “My head is banging, I’ve just woken up, so keep your voice down.” Winnie marched inside the house and headed straight into the kitchen. “I’ll put the kett
le on; you get upstairs and sort yourself out. You look like Gazza after a night out on the tiles.” Winnie chuckled and reached for the cups from the cupboard. Grace was unsteady. She’d just remembered the night before, she folded in two, her body melted like hot butter on a piece of toast. She wasn’t dreaming, this nightmare was all true. Sobbing on the top stair, she dragged her fingers through her hair in desperation. “Why Martin? Why did you do it? I loved you with all my heart.”

  Winnie placed the two cups on the table and sat down tapping her fingers waiting for Grace to come back. She was a right gossip and couldn’t wait to get the latest on her friend’s relationship. Grace walked inside the kitchen and her eyes were blood shot. She’d been crying, her cheeks were puffy and you could see a piece of tissue held tightly in her hand. Winnie sprang to her feet and cradled her in her arms. “Come here love, try and be strong. Time is a good healer and you’ll get over this with time, trust me.”

  Grace was choked up and she took a few seconds to get her words out. Usually she was a strong woman but today it seemed as if all her inner strength had been stripped away from her. “How could he do this to me? Thirty years of marriage, just threw away on some scrubber.”

  Winnie was lost for words for a change; this was so out of the blue seeing her friend so upset, usually Grace was the backbone of the community and she always stood tall. “Well, get ready and go and see her. Tell her what she’s ruined, and what she’s done to you,” Winnie snarled.

  Grace sat down and sparked up a cigarette. Looking at her she sighed. “I’ve smoked about fifty cigs last night you know? I was thinking of giving them up as well. There’s no chance of that now is there?”

  Winnie slid a cigarette out of the packet and popped one in the corner of her mouth. “Have you told the lads yet? They will hit the roof when they find out their old man’s been playing away won’t they?”

  Grace shook her head and took a long drag from her cig. “I’ve done nothing yet love. I just feel so weak inside, I feel empty.”

  “I’ll make you some toast if you want, you will need to eat something to keep strong.”

  Grace declined and told her to sit back down. “Thanks love, but I’m not in the mood at the moment. I feel sick inside. I’ll try something later, but for now I’m fine.”

  Grace walked over to the phone and rang her husband’s friend’s wife. She knew everything that was going on in work and her husband never kept anything from her. She was sure that Jeanie would know who Martin was sleeping with. Winnie was sat on the edge of her seat; this was right up her street. Better than any episode of Coronation Street or EastEnders she’d ever watched. This was real life drama and she was a part of it, she rubbed her hands together with excitement.

  Grace dialled the number and sat down with the phone resting under her chin. She signalled her friend to light her a cigarette up. “Hello Jeanie, it’s Grace, Martin’s wife.” There was a bit of chit-chat before Grace got to the serious stuff. Winnie was sat with her mouth wide open and waiting for the drama to start. “Who’s the tart at work Martin has been sleeping with Jeanie?” You could have heard a pin drop. Grace’s face was white and small beads of sweat developed on her forehead. Winnie got up from her seat and stood at her friend’s side, she was eager for any drop of information. “I know love,” Grace said to Jeanie. “Thanks for telling me, I knew I could count on you.” The phone call ended and Grace looked as if she was going to faint. Steadying herself she spoke, much to Winnie’s relief. “Twenty nine years old she is. Her name is Monica. She’s been working with Martin for over a year now. Jeanie said she’s a right man-eater.”

  Winnie was up in arms. “Right, do you want me to come with you. I might be a bit rusty but I’ve still got your back.” Winnie stormed about the kitchen shaking her head. “I knew I should have carried on with that Yoga then I would have been like a bleeding Ninja.” Grace smiled at her friend. She was such a head the ball at times and some of the stuff she came out with had you in stitches laughing.

  Winnie Maylett was forty five and she’d lived an eventful life. She wasn’t short of confidence; she was such a loud mouth. Stan was her husband but since his car accident four years earlier he’d been housebound. His leg injuries were severe and the doctors told him he would never walk again. Winnie was devastated at the time but as the years passed, she leaned to cope with her disabled husband. Stan was her world and after twenty years of marriage he was her soul mate.

  Grace sat thinking for a minute; she knew Martin would be in work at this time. “Right, go and get ready Winnie. Let’s go and see this tart and see what she has to say for herself. I need to get ready myself, so hurry back. I want to get there for when they’re on their lunch breaks.” Grace looked at the clock on the wall in the kitchen. “Come on then, make a move!” Winnie sprinted out from the house; she loved every minute of the drama.

  The pair marched along Rochdale Road towards where her husband worked. The paint factory had been there for years and Martin had worked there for a long time, he was a manager. Just next to the factory was a café. The workers went inside there at break time and at this time of the day she knew her husband would be there having a bite to eat. “You need to kick her scabby fanny in, Grace. Don’t let her disrespect you in front of all that lot in there. If you were asking me what to do, I would find out where she is and knock ten tons of shit out of her, the dirty shag-bag.”

  Grace was uneasy. “Shut up will you Winnie. I’ll do whatever I want when I see her. Just keep your big trap shut for one minute while I think about this.”

  “What have you put heels on for, how can you fight in them?” Winnie chirped in.

  “For fuck sake, why didn’t I just come on my own. I swear Winnie, one more word out of you, and you can wait here. You’re supposed to be supporting me, not stressing me out. Just button it for two bleeding minutes will you?” Grace inhaled deeply and licked her dry cracked lips. Flexing her fingers slowly she made her way to the entrance. Winnie was tucked in behind her ready for action.

  Grace stood in the café and scanned the area; she didn’t have a clue what this Monica woman looked like. Slowly she made her way to the counter and leant over it. “Excuse me love,” she shouted to one of the girls working there. Once she had their full attention she kept her voice low. Winnie was hanging at the side of her. “Can you tell me who Monica is, I’m her friend?” The young assistant pointed in the distance to a woman sat with a few other girls.

  Grace walked across the floor and all eyes seemed to be on her. A few of the lads who knew she was Martin’s wife were whispering to each other. “Hello, Monica. I’m Martin’s wife, I think me and you need a little chat.” Monica’s face dropped and she was as white as snow.

  Winnie sprung forward like a hunting lioness, she was holding nothing back, she rammed her bony finger into Monica’s chest. “Let’s see what you’ve got to say for yourself now, Mrs fucking fancy pants.”

  Grace gripped Winnie by her coat and flung her to the side. “Winnie, just keep out of this. I can fight my own battles.” Grace shot a look at Monica. “We can do this here, or outside it’s up to you?” Martin’s mistress was unsteady on her feet and her friends left her side like rats leaving a sinking ship. You could have heard a pin drop at that moment.

  The girls behind the counter turned the radio down and they were hanging on every word spoken between the two women. “I’ll stay here,” Monica said in a cocky tone. “I’ve got nothing to hide from you. I’m with Martin, there is nothing more to say. You just have to deal with it.”

  Grace sank her nails deep into Monica’s face and dragged her about the canteen. A few of the men tried to stop the fight but Winnie made them step back. “It’s my husband you’re talking about. I don’t know what he’s been telling you but believe me he’s on his hands and knees to me begging me to have him back.”

  Monica backed off and stood with her hand on her hips, she was shaking. “He loves me. He doesn’t love you. He was leaving you anyway
; it was just a matter of time.”

  Grace gritted her teeth tightly together; this was one hard faced bitch. “Listen to me you dirty slag, Martin was just after a quick leg-over, nothing else.”

  Monica gasped and spoke to the crowd of people who were sat watching. “If you had sex with your husband he wouldn’t have come looking for me. You wear big passion killer knickers, what did you expect?” Winnie was dragging her fingers through her hair in frustration, what was Grace doing? Why wasn’t she smashing her head in? The door opened and Martin walked in, he ran to his wife’s side and tried to calm her down. Monica was gobsmacked. “Why are you stood next to her Martin? I thought you wanted me, you said you loved me?”

  Martin’s face was on fire, the purple vein at the side of his neck was pumping with rage. “I love my wife Monica, you were a mistake, the biggest mistake I have ever made.” The woman ran at him with a menacing look in her eyes. Winnie could take it no longer and grabbed her by the neck. Flinging her to the floor she smashed her clenched fist into her cocky face. The men sitting behind her jumped up from their seats, they couldn’t watch it anymore, Winnie was destroying her. Two men held Winnie back, Monica dragged herself up from the floor. Her nose was dripping with blood. “So, Martin, is this it? Are you going back to her or what?”

  Grace didn’t give her husband time to answer. “No love, he’s not coming near me again. Do you think I would go anywhere near him after he’s had it stuck up you, because you can think again. I’m done with him. Come on Winnie, let’s get out of here.”

  Winnie snarled at Martin as she walked passed him. “You dirty bleeder, you should have kept it in your pants.” Grace raised a smile to the other workers sat there as she left the room.

  The wind was picking up and the cold breeze on Grace’s face was welcomed, she was having a hot flush. Winnie rubbed her friend’s arms. “Well done love, you were so calm, I just flipped I couldn’t help it. Did you see the tart stood there like she was Lady Muck.” Grace fell to her knees, and her shoulders were shaking. “Just get me home, just get me home.” Martin ran outside the cafe and shouted Grace’s name at the top of his voice, he was a broken man. Grace and Winnie drove past him in the taxi they’d just flagged down and didn’t give him a second look.