For the next three weeks, we went to the pub after choir practice. As usual, he flirted with me and I responded in equal measure. Gradually we were learning more about each other. He was fun to be with, had a wealth of funny stories, and definitely getting more tactile.
It was no surprise when he asked me out for a meal. And no surprise that I accepted. He picked me up from my house and took me to a Thai restaurant. I’d never had Thai food before, but I enjoyed it.
Towards the end of the meal, he told me about the reasons why his last relationship had ended. He had been with the woman for nearly a year when she fell pregnant. It was definitely not planned. She wanted to have an abortion, but he was against the idea. Despite his objections, she went ahead and had the abortion anyway. He was devastated. He could no longer have a relationship with someone who had cold-bloodedly killed his unborn child. Tears welled in his eyes and it took an effort to stop them from flowing.
I put my hand on his, saying I understood completely. There was no way I would ever consider an abortion, whatever the circumstances of the baby’s conception. I withdrew my hand. He then smiled at me weakly, told me he appreciated my reaction and that it made him feel better. He placed his hand over mine and left it there. He wasn’t holding my hand, it just rested there. After that, the mood improved to what it had been before he had started his account.
As we walked to his car, he took my hand and I let him hold it. I didn’t invite him in, but I let him kiss me goodnight. I had enjoyed the evening – and the kiss. It seemed only fair to offer to cook him a meal the following week.
When he arrived, he brought me a dozen red roses. My mind went back to the last bunch of roses I had received. It was an uncomfortable memory.
Seb drew me into his arms and kissed me. I had known him now for six weeks and was sure he was a man Granny Wise would approve of. His reaction to getting his ex-girlfriend pregnant was something Granny would have expected of a good man. He released me and I dished up the meal.
We sat on the sofa with our coffees after the meal. He put his arm round my shoulder and I leaned into him. We kissed and he caressed me. As he undressed me, I made no objection. It was the natural consequence of how our relationship was developing.
He didn’t stay the night, but we agreed to meet next, on Friday night. And he did spend the night with me then. I was disappointed that he had to leave early on the Saturday morning. He still had things to sort out in Colchester.
Jane was surprised that matters had progressed so quickly, but was happy for me. “He’s nothing like Crispin,” I assured her. “He’s normal in bed. There was no suggestion of making love on a bed of rose petals, although he did bring me a bunch.”
We had been going out for nearly two months. Life was sweet again. Seb suggested we went away together for a week and we spent a rainy week in a caravan in Devon. It didn’t matter to us, as we only went outside to buy food.
It continued to rain when we returned. Seb again had to go back to Colchester to sort out some final details relating to the sale of his house there. I missed him.
On the Saturday morning, I was having a bit of a lie-in. The doorbell roused me just after 9am. Putting on a housecoat and tying it around me, I answered the door. I didn’t know the woman who stood there. She was blonde, but it was out of a bottle. The roots needed redoing and her hair was in need of a cut. Her coat was undone and it was obvious she was heavily pregnant.
“Do you know Seb Sherlock?” she asked. I said I did. “Well, I’m his wife.” The news stunned me. She walked past me into my kitchen.
“Are you sure? He told me he was single,” I explained.
“Of course I’m bloody sure. We’ve been married ten years and have two girls. And a third in six weeks time.”
“I mean, are you sure he is the same man?” I needed time to think.
“I hired a private detective to follow him. The man you’ve been sleeping with is my husband.” She emphasised the last two words. “That’s how I knew your address.”
“I would never have gone with him if I thought he was married,” I stuttered. “I’m not like that.”
“They never are,” she spat at me. “What story did he tell you?”
“That his last girlfriend had an abortion against his wishes. That must have been about five or six months ago. He moved here because he hated the thought of accidentally meeting her in Colchester.”
“Colchester?" she laughed, harshly, clearly surprised. "He’s never lived in Colchester. Nor anywhere else in Essex. He’s from Hull. The bit about getting a girl pregnant is true enough, but it was him who wanted her to get rid of it. She was from a good family. They were going to help her look after it, but he browbeat her into having the abortion. And then he left her.”
I was shocked. Was what he had told me a total pack of lies? Had I, yet again, made a massive mistake about a man? While I was still thinking about this, the woman continued.
“You’re welcome to him. I don’t want him back. But I’ll make sure the CSA take him for every penny I am entitled to.”
“If what you say is true, he’s not welcome here either.” I was feeling a bit stronger. “My marriage was ruined by a cheating husband. There is no way I would deliberately inflict the same hurt on another woman.”
“Every word I’ve told you is true, I assure you,” she insisted. “And I could tell you a lot more. But I’ve said my piece and I’m going now. Just in case he tries to deny anything, I’ve written down my name and the girl’s names. You’ve also got my phone number.”