After dropping my mistress off, I bid her a gentle farewell and headed home. I lingered for a moment outside the flat, mentally rehearsing everything Id say to my wife. I climbed the stairs and unlocked the door.
Hello, I called out. Helen, are you in?
Im here, she replied matter-of-factly. Hello. Well then, should I start frying the chops?
I resolved to be forthrightbold, decisive, like a real man! Time to put a full stop to my secret life, before the taste of my lovers kisses faded and I sank back into the daily rut.
Helen, I cleared my throat. Ive come to tell you we need to split up.
Helen took the news in nearly complete calm. Ruffling Helens feathers was never easily done anyway. Back in the day, I even teased her about it, calling her Helen the Cold.
Whats that supposed to mean? Helen asked from the kitchen doorway. Should I not bother with the chops then?
Its up to you, I replied. Make them if youd like, or dont. Im leaving you for another woman.
At this point, most wives would fling a frying pan or stage a dramatic showdown. But Helen was not like most.
Well, arent you the clever one, she said. By the way, did you pick my boots up from the cobblers?
No, I admitted, a bit thrown. If thats really important, Ill head straight there now to get them.
Of course typical you, Tom, Helen muttered. Send you for my boots and youd probably come back with the wrong ones.
I felt wounded. This wasnt going the way Id planneda bit short on outrage, lacking in drama and reproach! Then again, what more could I expect from Helen the Cold?
I dont think you understand! I said to her. Im officially telling youIm leaving you for another woman, moving out, and all you talk about are your boots!
Quite right, said Helen. Its not as though Ive got to stay putI mean, your boots arent at the cobblers, are they? Why not walk wherever you fancy?
Wed been together for many years, yet I could never tell when my wife was joking and when she was serious. Her steady nature, refusal to quarrel, and laconic ways were actually what drew me to Helen in the first place. That, and the fact that she was sensible and well put together.
Helen was reliable, loyal, and steady as an anchor weighing thirty tonnes. But now I loved another, passionately, scandalously, sweetly! I had to be clear, draw a line under things, and head for a new life.
And so, Helen, I said with as much gravity, sorrow, and regret as I could muster, Im grateful for everything, but Im leaving because I love another woman. I no longer love you.
Extraordinary, said Helen. You dont love me, you daft old boot. My mother, for instance, loved the man next door. And Dad loved the pub and a pint of bitter. What of it? See what a marvellous outcome I turned out to be.
Arguing with Helen was pointlessevery word from her weighed a ton. My initial fire fizzled out, the desire to quarrel vanished.
You really are marvellous, Helen, I admitted dully. But I love someone else, with all my heart, and Im moving in with her. Do you understand?
Someone else, is it? my wife said. That Sandra from the tennis club?
I backed away. A year ago, thered been a brief affair with Sandra, but I had no clue Helen even knew her!
How do you know her? I began, then broke off. Never mind. Its not about Sandra.
Helen yawned.
Perhaps then, that Susan from the office? Off to her flat, are you?
I felt ice down my spineSusan had once been a fling, but that was history now. If Helen had known, why hadnt she ever said a word? Ah yes, shes a tough one, Helen.
Not Susan, either, I replied. Nor Sandra. This is someone else altogether, an astonishing woman, the pinnacle of my dreams. I cant live without her, and Im going to her. Dont try to talk me out of it.
So its probably Claire, then, said Helen. Oh, Tom! Youre such a brilliant mystery. As if its not obvious. The so-called pinnacle of your dreamsClaire Valentina Gregory. Thirty-five, one child, two unfortunate hospital visits Right?
I grabbed my head. Shed hit the nail squarely on the head! My secret romance was, in fact, with Claire Gregory.
But how? I stammered. Did someone tell you? Were you spying on me?
Simple enough, Tom, Helen said. My dear, Im a GP with twenty years experience. Youve only managed to charm a handful of women in this townIve treated nearly all of them. It takes just a glance to know where youve been, you silly sausage!
I tried to gather myself together.
Supposing youre right! I retorted. Lets say it is Claire. It changes nothingIm still leaving for her.
Tom, youre a fool, said Helen. You couldve at least asked me out of curiosity! And Ill tell youtheres nothing remarkable about Claire, you know. Everything just as it is with every other woman. Thats my clinical opinion. Have you seen her medical notes?
N-no I admitted.
Precisely! First, off you go for a shower. And tomorrow, Ill give Dr. Simmons a ringhell see you at the clinic, no waiting. Well talk later. I tell you, what a disgracea doctors husband who cant find himself a healthy woman!
So what am I to do? I asked miserably.
Im off to fry those chops, Helen said. Go wash up and do as you please. If youre ever after a dream woman with a clean bill of healthlet me know, Ill put in a good word
Personal lesson: That evening, as the sound of sizzling chops drifted from the kitchen, I realised just how much Id underestimated Helenand overestimated the thrill of my escapade. Some anchors are unshakeable, and some journeys make you appreciate the calm harbours youve left behind.
