The Other Woman
Once, years ago now, I sat quietly in my car, watching the faint blue glow of the satnav as the rain flecked the windscreen. No mistakeId arrived at the right place. All I had to do was gather my wits and follow through with what Id resolved to do. Drawing in a deep breath, I stepped out into the grey London drizzle.
Down the street, just shy of fifty yards, I paused to scan the sign over a modest café: The Coffee Nook. I couldnt help but think, what a nameso idyllic it almost hurt. Yet inside those quaint walls awaited the womanthe so-called other woman who had upended my marriage. Every nerve in my body wanted to turn tail, get back in the car, and escape to Kent, Yorkshire, or anywhere far away. But no, Id not come all this way to run.
I took hold of the door, pulled it open, and forced myself inside. Soon Id come face to face with hermy husbands mistress, the home-wrecker. What did I really know about this girl? Not much, only that her pet name was Kitten (so creative, Simon), and she worked here as a waitress.
Choosing a table by the window, I waited, glancing about with a mix of dread and defiance. The waitress approached soon enough, and I recognised her immediately from the photo. There she was, walking towards me. A few seconds seemed to draw out like an age, spiralling with thoughts enough to fill a fat Victorian novel.
Good morning! she greeted me brightly, and I flicked my eyes down to her name badge.
Charlotte. Of course. So Simon hadnt stretched his imagination far, calling her Kitten. Meanwhile, Charlotte, completely unaware of the storm brewing in my head, continued, May I offer you a menu? Just let me know when youre ready to order.
I gave her my warmest, most dazzling smile, all the while inspecting my rival as if I were a botanist analysing a rare weed. How on earth had I landed here, face to face with my husbands mistress? To understand that, I had to cast my mind back.
Ten years of marriage to Simon, and Id thought, truly, we were content. We had a daughter, Emily, eight years old and the apple of her fathers eye. Simon doted on her, showering her with every new toy in Hamleys, buying her dolls ad infinitum. I often teased him: Whats this, the twentieth doll? He only laughed and shrugged. Emily adored himsometimes I thought she preferred him to me, though I could never resent it. As a trained therapist, I knew the value of a fathers love for a daughter.
Simon and I handled our differences quietly, always striving for reasoned discussion rather than argument. We were ordinary, comfortablea mortgage on a modest flat, a second-hand Ford, and a little cottage in Sussex. To the outside world, perfectly unremarkable.
And thenout of the bluethis.
Id only stumbled across it by accident. Simon was showering one evening when his mobile began to buzz. Probably Dad, he called out. Could you get it, love? Ill just be a moment.
I rarely, if ever, answered Simons phone, unless he asked. I assumed it would be my father-in-law. As I approached the hall table, I discovered the call was on WhatsApp, the screen flashing with the name Kittenand a profile photo of some young woman in a tight embrace with my husband. I nearly felt faint. Should I answer? Would I even know what to say? Heart thumping, I hesitated until the call stopped ringing.
I wanted to leave his phone alone, to forget the whole thing. But a new message pinged through: Si, Im working alternate days next weekpop in at The Coffee Nook after my shift, Ill make your favourite flat white. Miss you, love you It was like the screen burned my hand.
Everything pointed to it. The intimate photo, the pet name, the affectionate message. Yet I still couldnt believe it. How long had Simon been seeing her? What was thisjust a fling, or something more serious? In either case, my world tilted on its axis.
When Simon emerged from the bathroom, he asked if his father had called. I muttered that Id missed the call and made an excuse about a headache, needing to nip down to Boots. I didnt go to Boots, of course. Instead, I sat on a bench in the misty green of our local square, turning everything over in my mind. Was there a moment Id missed, a crack in our marriage? Nothing obvious came to mind.
I wasnt the sort for drama or scenes. But I wasnt one to bury my head in the sand and drift on in a sinking marriage, either. What to do, though? If I asked Simon directly, Id have to admit Id checked his messages, and I didnt want to start there. I needed a different approach.
Then I rememberedthe cafés name, her work schedule, her photograph. Perhaps I ought to see Charlotte for myself, make some sort of peace with reality. Maybe even talk with her. The next few days passed in a miserable fog. I couldnt sleep, lost my appetite, spun stories of overwork for Emily and Simon. Emily hugged me, Simon watched me warily. All I could think of was Charlotte, and of going to see her.
So thats how, on that chilly spring morning, I found myself in The Coffee Nook. No turning back.
Ill have a latte andwhat dessert would you recommend? My voice was steady enough.
Our honey cake is rather good today, Charlotte replied cheerily.
That sounds lovely. Ill try that, I said.
When Charlotte set down my coffee and cake, I barely touched either. The coffee was unimpressive, the cake just as uninspired. The place was almost empty (no surprise, given the hour). Id chosen this time so we might speak in private, and after a while, Charlotte returned.
Youve hardly touched your cake. Was it not to your liking? May I bring you something else?
No, thank you, its not that. Just not much appetite. Lots on my mind.
Ill let you be, then.
No, Charlotte, its all right. In fact, Im puzzling what I ought to do. Finish the cake, or file for divorce? I fixed her with a searching look.
She froze, clearly taken abacklikely thinking I was unhinged.
Ive never had to make a choice like that
But if you did? Imagine discovering your husband was… unfaithful?
Charlotte said nothing, looking uncertain, so I changed tack.
How long have you been working here?
A year or so, she answered, cautious now.
University student?
Yes, she replied, wary. Im studying performing arts at Kings.
How interesting. Are you good at inhabiting rolesthe wronged wife, the other woman?
Im not sure what you mean
Can you imagine what its like to be them?
She looked agitated, and then I realisedwhat was I hoping to achieve? Id seen her, spoken with her. Did I want to claw her hair out, tip my watery latte over her? Would that erase the pain? Not a bit of it.
Sighing, I asked for the bill.
When Charlotte returned, Id already left. Only a few tenner notes remained on the tablemore than enough for the bill and a generous tip.
She glanced out the window and, strangely, seemed suddenly older, a little weary.
*
That day in the café, Id made my choice. I would go ahead with our ten-year anniversary as planned. Why deprive Emily of her family celebrationshed worked hard on a poster and counted the days? Wed finish the evening, and only after would I speak to Simon.
So, we gathered in our trusted bistroSimon, Emily, and Iostensibly to celebrate a decade together. Tin or wooden wedding, was it? More like glass, I thought. A single crack and itll all shatter, and yet here I am, playing at contentment.
Supper was winding down when Simon, with a conspiratorial wink, said to Emily, Whats a party without cake?
I want the biggest slice! Emily cheered, bouncing in her seat.
As the waitresses wheeled out the cake, my heart skipped a beat. There she wasCharlotte, the very same Kitten or mistress or whatever she was. I stared, almost numb, as she placed the cake before us.
Simon smiled gently at Charlotte and declared, Happy anniversary, darling! This cake is for you.
An entertainer arrived to whisk Emily off to play, and I was left blinking at my husband.
Simon leaned in undertone. I gather you and Charlotte have met.
Charlotte nodded politely, eyes flickering with a knowing look.
Simon took my hand. Theres nothing in the world that could shake us. Im grateful for you. He leant in for a kiss, but I pulled away.
Whats all this supposed to mean? I croaked.
Simon shrugged, disarming as always. It was a prank, love. A silly jokeprobably not the funniest, but… No, there was never an affair. Charlotte is an actress. I hired a company who specialise in surprise events for anniversarieseach scenario is tailored, with actors. Ours waswell, infidelity. You handled it beautifullyso much dignity and calm. Im in awe of you.
I stared, first at Simon, then at Charlotte. You think that was funny? Appropriate? Acceptable? My voice trembled as anger rose at last. Why would you do this to me?
Charlotte made to slip away, but I halted her with a look. For the first time ever, Simon watched me lose my composurealways the calm one, not tonight.
Do you even understand what these last days have been like for me? Why on earth did you think a prank like this would be a good way to mark our anniversary?
Simon faltered. Its justAllie, youre always so composed I wanted to spice things up a bit, try something new. It was foolish of me. Im sorry.
I could hardly contain my outrage. Charlotte, seeing her cue, quietly excused herself.
Oh, you wanted excitement? I hissed, grabbing the cake plate and smashing it full-force into Simons face. There, spice and all the filling, as you asked.
Simon fumbled at the icing dripping over his glasses and cheeks.
Are you mad? he spluttered.
No, darling. I trilled in my sweetest voice. Just putting some zest back in our marriage, as requested. I stood, smoothed my skirt, and strode toward the exit.
Whats come over you? he called after me. I didnt even cheat!
I paused at the door, turned and said, full of feeling, It wouldve been better if you had.
Then I found Emily, took her by the hand, and we stepped out into the crisp London night. Taking in a long breath of the cool air, I finally, unexpectedly, laughed.
Mum, whats funny? Why are you laughing? Emily asked, puzzled.
Oh, nothing, love. Just remembered an old joke.
Tell me?
In a bit, sweetheart. But firsta serious chat. You see, for a while, well be living apart from Dad
Forever? Emilys eyes grew wide.
I dont know, darling. Well see how things go. Are you with me? She nodded, her little face full of trust.
And with that, we walked on through the evening, hand in hand, into whatever lay ahead.
