Me and My Sisters (37 page)

‘It’s not his bloody job. I wish it was. I really, really wish he was unemployed. It’s not that.’

‘Well, what else could – NO!’

‘Yes.’

‘No way – not Harry.’

‘Yes, Harry.’

‘Who?’

‘French bitch.’

‘When?’

‘Started when we went over to London for Clara’s birth,’ she sobbed.

‘How did you –’

‘Text.’

‘Harry?’

‘Yes.’

‘But he’s not the type. He loves you and the kids.’

‘Apparently he loves
Christelle
more!’

‘Are you absolutely sure?’

‘Positive.’

‘Hold on, start from the beginning. Tell me everything …’

34

Julie

I shouldn’t have drunk the bloody wine. It was like a truth serum. The words tumbled out of my mouth like a waterfall. I hadn’t planned on telling Sophie. I had genuinely called over to celebrate her job. I was really impressed that she had got one so soon. Maybe there was hope for me. Maybe I could get a job and support my family when Harry left us for that French whore.

When Sophie asked me how I was, I wanted to say, ‘Fine,’ but I just couldn’t. The word refused to come out of my mouth. How could I say that when I was living in hell?

The last few weeks had been a nightmare. You’d think when you find out your husband is cheating on you that you’d confront him immediately. But I hadn’t. When he’d come home that night, I’d opened my mouth and nothing had come out. I’d panicked and ended up acting as if nothing had happened. And the really weird part was that it hadn’t been that difficult to hide my devastation. Harry and I never talked any more. We never looked at each other. We muttered to one another about the kids, the bills, and that was pretty much it. He hid in the TV room with his phone and his laptop, pretending to work on his project, and I stayed in the kitchen reading.

Except that I couldn’t read because I couldn’t concentrate. I kept thinking, How? Why? When? Where? But I didn’t want to confront him because I knew that when I did he’d admit it and leave me. And I didn’t want that. I couldn’t bear that. I’d rather live a lie. I couldn’t believe that I, Julie Devlin, would rather live with a husband who I knew was cheating on me than kick him out. I was pathetic … and terrified.

If we broke up I’d be on my own. I’d have four boys, no money, no husband – nothing. How would I cope? I’d been struggling when I thought I was happily married and had some money to live on. How the hell would Harry be able to support two houses on his crappy salary? He couldn’t afford a mistress. We were barely managing to get by as it was.

What kind of life would I have if he left me? I’d have no one to talk to, no one to call when the boys did something funny. No one to cry to when the boys were being bold. No one to share my hopes and dreams with. No one to tell that my kids were the best in the world, that Luke could read perfectly, and that Tom could sing along to the whole of ‘Mamma Mia’. No one to cuddle up to, no one to reassure me that I wasn’t damaging my kids or turning them into monsters by shouting at them daily, no one to laugh with, no one to have sex with, no one to watch movies with, no one to go to parties with, no one to come home from parties with, no one to assemble Christmas presents with, no one to giggle over the boys’ letters to Santa with, no one to give out to about my family, no one to go on rainy holidays with four hyper boys to a caravan in Wexford with, no one to tell me that I was beautiful in their eyes, no one to tell me that I was sexy in my own way, no one to tell me they loved me.

No one.

So, I avoided Harry and he avoided me. We talked, but said nothing. We existed side by side, but didn’t live together. We went to bed together, but didn’t sleep. We continued as normal when nothing was the same.

I told Sophie everything. She was gobsmacked.

She took a large drink of wine. ‘OK, let’s not panic. One text, although it sounds very bad, isn’t proof of a full-blown affair. We need more evidence. You have to get hold of his laptop and phone to check his messages.’

‘He never leaves them out of his sight.’

‘What about when he’s asleep?’

‘He has them on his bedside locker and he isn’t sleeping well. He tosses and turns all night. It’s the guilt – it’s eating him up, the bastard.’ I sobbed.

‘Well, what about when he’s in the shower?’ Sophie suggested.

‘I got another chance to look at his phone a few days ago, but he had deleted everything.’

‘We need the laptop. Do you have his password? You could log on to his email from Jack’s computer.’

‘I tried that, I used Marian’s computer, but he’s changed his password. It used to be uh – uh – uh – Julie.’ I buried my face in a tissue.

Sophie rubbed my back. ‘Look, Julie, I’m sorry to be blunt, but did you try “Christelle” as a password?’

‘Yes, I bloody did, and our kids’ names and dates of birth. None of them worked.’

Sophie took out a pen and paper. ‘Come on, we have to figure the password out. Think of any pets he had as a kid or favourite football players or sportsmen, his dream car, favourite movie or drink – anything.’

I sat up and tried to concentrate. ‘He had a dog called Snoopy, he supports Liverpool, he loves Steven Gerrard and Fernando Torres, he likes Jack Daniel’s and Coke. If he won the lotto he always said he’d buy a Maserati. He pretends his favourite movie is
The Shawshank Redemption
but actually it’s
Armageddon –
he always cries when the colonel guy says to Liv Tyler, “Permission to shake the hand of the daughter of the bravest man I’ve ever met.” I used to slag him about it all the time.’

Sophie noted this, while I cried over happy memories. She put her pen down and gave me a hug. ‘I know this is a nightmare for you, but you have a family who love you and will support you no matter what happens.’ She began to get emotional. ‘Honestly, I never knew how important you guys were to me until I was in trouble. You were amazing to me, all of you. I don’t know what I would have done without your support and encouragement. I promise you, we’ll help you through this.’

‘I wish I wasn’t so useless. I have no job, no money, no independence.’

‘Neither did I. I know how scary it is to wake up one day and realize you can’t support your children. But you’ll find a way. I’ve made over thirty thousand on eBay, which I’ve put away for Jess, and today I got a job. Who the hell would have thought I could get a job? The only degree I ever had was in shopping. I swear when Jack told me we had nothing, I thought I was going to lose my mind, but then I looked at Jess and knew I had to keep going.’

‘I’m afraid of being on my own, Sophie. I know it’s weak and sad, but I don’t want Harry to leave me. I’d rather pretend I don’t know about Christelle and have him stay and help me raise the boys. I don’t want them to come from a broken home and I’m too scared to be alone. No one is ever going to want to be with me. I’m forty with four kids and no career. I’m a loser with tons of baggage. I could live until I’m ninety. I don’t want to be on my own for fifty years –’ I started bawling again.

‘It’s not weak or sad to be scared. I totally understand. I used to feel that way about Jack. I thought if I wasn’t the perfect wife, with the perfect figure and clothes, he might leave me for one of the younger women who were always throwing themselves at him and then I’d be alone with Jess. My phone would stop ringing. No one would call or invite me anywhere. I’d be a pariah, the divorcee no one wants around. Married women hate single women – they’re a threat. I saw ex-wives being cast aside and it wasn’t pretty. But, as it turned out, no one wants me
or
Jack around. We’re both an embarrassment. A reminder of what could happen. A living example of how hard you can fall.’

‘Haven’t any of those Victoria ones called you?’

‘No. They sent texts saying they were sorry to hear that we were having “financial challenges”. Victoria phoned into my voicemail and left a message saying she was busy travelling but she’d try to give me a buzz between trips.’

‘Bitches.’

Sophie shrugged. ‘If I’m honest, all we had in common was that our kids went to the same school and our husbands made lots of money. There wasn’t much depth to the friendships. Thank God I have sisters.’

‘And a husband. You still have Jack. You have someone to share the burden with. I’m on my own here.’

Sophie squeezed my hand. ‘No, you’re not. I’m here for you and so is Louise. So are Mum and Dad and even Gavin. He’s been great with Jess.’

I stood up. ‘I have to go. I’m pissed and I’ll be up with Tom in about two hours – he’s teething again. How many bloody teeth do they get? I’m sick of it. I’m sick of getting no sleep. I’m sick of my crappy, shitty life. How the hell did I end up here?’

Sophie held me by the shoulders. ‘Hang in there. Let’s take this one step at a time. Take this list of possible passwords and try to get into Harry’s computer. When we know more we can call Louise and come up with a plan. She’s very good in a crisis.’

‘You’re not too bad yourself.’ I hugged my little sister and stumbled home.

It took three days, but eventually I got hold of Harry’s laptop. He had left it behind when he took the triplets to football. I plonked Tom in front of the TV and tried the passwords Sophie had written out in her neat loopy writing.

The fifth one worked – Armageddon. I went into his hotmail address and did a search for ‘Christelle’. I held my breath.

Only one message came up. He must have deleted the others. It had been sent this morning, at eight twenty-five. My God, the bastard had been emailing her while I was giving the boys their breakfast.

Dear Christelle, I promise I won’t let you down. I’ll be in Paris on 20 August. I’ll tell Julie it’s a work trip. After we’ve talked I’ll break the news to her and the boys.

I logged out, turned the laptop off and put it back under the bed, where Harry had hidden it. I walked calmly back into the kitchen, patted Tom’s head as he laughed at a
Tom and Jerry
cartoon. I climbed up on to a chair and took the large scissors down from their hiding place. I stood in front of my reflection in the window and proceeded to cut off my hair.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Marian shouted, as she barged through the back door, grabbing the scissors from me. ‘Have you lost your mind?’ She plonked Ben and Molly in front of the TV with Tom and closed the door. ‘Julie, talk to me. What’s happened?’

‘He’s going to Paris to see her.’

‘When?’

‘August the twentieth. He said in the email that he’s going to tell me it’s a work trip.’ I sounded very far away. I could hear my voice, but I didn’t feel as if it was coming from my body.

Marian fished around in her bag. ‘Here, take these.’ She handed me two small tablets.

‘What are they?’

‘Valium. I keep them for very bad days. Take those now.’

Normally I would never have dreamt of taking Valium, but today I swallowed them.

‘Good girl. Now, you need to breathe and promise me you won’t do anything stupid like cut your hair off. Seriously, Julie, it’s your crowning glory. You’ve taken a big chunk out of the right side and now it looks ridiculous. I’m going to have to even it out. Don’t worry, I used to be quite good at hair – I did my mother’s for years because she wouldn’t leave the fucking house in case Dad showed up.’

While Marian cut my hair, I cried big, salty, silent tears.

‘Stop it, you’ll set me off,’ she said, sniffing as she snipped. Brown curls surrounded me on the floor. ‘Now, let me look at you.’ She stood in front of me and examined her work. ‘It really suits you. It’s like a cool wavy bob. Take a look.’ She handed me a mirror from her bag.

My hair had been down past my shoulders but now it stopped just past my ears. The curls looked nicer short, less straggly, less unkempt.

‘Thanks,’ I croaked.

‘No problem. But from now on stay away from the scissors, OK? Any shorter and you’d have looked like Pete Sampras.’

‘It doesn’t matter what I look like. Harry’s leaving me,’ I sobbed.

‘Well, why don’t you put the scissors to good use and stab the fucker? No court in the land would convict you. A husband cheating on a wife with triplets and a toddler – are you kidding me? They’d stand up and applaud you for taking him down.’

‘I’m not going to maim him.’

‘I’ll do it for you. I have a lifetime of pent-up rage. I can pretend Harry’s my useless father.’

‘Marian, seriously, you’re not going to hurt Harry.’ The Valium was kicking in. I felt calmer, less panicky.

Marian waved the scissors at me. ‘You’re far too nice. That’s always been your problem. You’re nice to everyone. You need to toughen up. Your sisters are tough bitches. You need to grow some balls, Julie. You can’t let people walk all over you. Harry needs to be punished. He’s screwing someone else. You can’t ignore it.’

I put my hands up to my head. ‘I need time to think. My head feels like it’s going to explode.’

‘Hardly surprising, with everything you’re dealing with. I’m telling you, if I ever find out Greg’s cheating I’ll nail him to the fucking cross. Jesus’s death will look like a picnic compared to what I’d do to him.’

‘That’s the strangest part. You think you’re going to react one way, but when it actually happens, you don’t. I can’t explain it. I just can’t face confronting him. I’m not ready. Not yet.’

‘Fine. But when you are, let me know and I’ll stand outside with a big chef’s knife in case it gets ugly and you need back-up.’

That night I texted Sophie about Harry’s planned trip to Paris. She told me to call over immediately. Jack was watching a football match and Jess was asleep so we went into Sophie’s bedroom and rang Louise.

I was crying too much to speak, so Sophie filled Louise in on the situation and put her on loudspeaker.

‘Jesus Christ, Julie, I’ve never been so shocked,’ Louise said. ‘If Harry can be unfaithful, anyone can. He worships you and the kids.’

‘Everyone keeps saying that, but it makes no bloody difference. He’s still screwing some tart called Christelle.’

‘What kind of a name is that? She sounds like a hooker,’ Louise said.

‘She’s a home-wrecker. She’s destroying my marriage and my boys’ lives.’ I started crying again.

‘OK, we need to get organized. The only thing to do here is catch him in the act. You need hard proof. I’m going to book the three of us tickets to Paris and we’ll confront them in person. Let’s see him try and explain his way out of that.’

‘That’s a brilliant idea,’ Sophie said.

I hugged a pillow to my chest. ‘I don’t know, Lou. I’m not sure I want to see her and him and make it all real.’

‘Julie, you can’t hide for ever. Pretending it’s not happening won’t make it go away. You have to deal with this. You won’t be alone. We’ll be with you every step of the way.’