—Right, I’m off… Katie.
—Off you go.
—I’m leaving, Katie, you hear?
—Go on, Alex, go.
Only once the door clicked shut behind Alex did Catherine let the tears loose. She sat in the battered old armchair—inherited from her grandmother—knees drawn up, weeping. Silently, like in childhood, when she feared someone might hear. She sobbed until the hiccups came, just like a little girl.
How could she go on? Without Alex? Without the man she’d shared all these years with?
Katie stood to make dinner but froze. Why bother? Alex wasn’t here. What was the point? She crumpled back into the chair, tears spilling again.
Then she remembered the children. Soon her daughter Maisie would be home from uni lectures, hungry. Then her son Jamie would return—late, as usual, from football practice. They’d want feeding. Katie forced herself up, wiped her face, and headed to the kitchen.
Thinking of the years with Alex, she burst into tears again. How? How without him?
That evening, the kids tumbled in as always, shoving and teasing. But soon, they noticed the missing figure.
—Mum, where’s Dad? On a work trip?— Maisie asked.
—Yeah, where’s he at?— Jamie echoed.
Katie couldn’t hold back. The tears came again, and she slumped into a chair, weeping openly.
—Mum, what’s wrong? Is he in hospital?— Maisie sounded panicked.
—No… He’s gone…— Katie choked out. —For good… to another woman.
—What?— the kids gasped in unison. —Mum, is this a joke?
It wasn’t.
Jamie’s lip trembled. He was a footballer, sure, but at thirteen, still a boy. He glanced helplessly between his mother and sister, on the verge of tears.
—Right,— Maisie rubbed her forehead briskly. —Jamie, go wash up and do your homework. Mum, enough with the waterworks. We need to think.
Maisie was sharp, quick, decisive. Jamie obeyed without protest.
Later, she slipped into his room.
—Crying?
He shook his head, eyes down.
Maisie hugged him, ruffled his hair.
—We’ll manage, Jay. Hear me? We’re family—he’s the one on his own. He’s worse off.
—Am I meant to feel sorry for him?— Jamie snapped, voice cracking.
—Sorry? Not a bad idea. We’ll be happy—proper happy. And he’ll realise what a mistake he made.
Once she’d calmed Jamie and Mum, Maisie retreated to the bathroom and finally let herself cry. How? How could their dad—the best dad ever—do this? Not some dashing bloke, just an ordinary man with a bit of extra weight, spoiled by Mum’s pies. His jokes were mid—only Mum ever laughed. Drove a clapped-out car he fixed himself. Managed a small team at the factory, modest salary.
But their family had been happy. Maisie had bragged to her friends that her dad was the only faithful one. Turned out… he wasn’t.
Tears ran; Maisie splashed them away with cold water.
Life rolled on, steady but emptier. The word “Dad” vanished from their talk. Now it was “him” or “Father,” and even that grew rare.
One day, Maisie heard behind her:
—Maz, Maisie, wait up!
She turned. There was her father—awkward in a tight three-piece suit, tie strangling him—hurrying after her.
She quickened her pace.
—Sweetheart, hold on!— he pleaded.
—What d’you want?— she shot back, icy.
—Here, money… take it.— Alex thrust a wad of notes at her. —Plenty there. Come visit, Maz. Lorraine’s lovely—she runs a fur shop. We’ll get you a coat. One for Mum’s birthday too, sable! Lorraine’s fine with it. We’re off to Greece again soon, for the furs…
—Piss off… into the woods,— Maisie cut in.
—Why the woods?
—For furs. Wanted to say worse—but manners won’t let me… Dad.
Alex froze, as if doused in ice water. He knew money was tight. They’d always scraped by—and now he’d gone and tangled up with Lorraine.
It started with Gary, a colleague. Invited Alex round to meet a friend, and there was Lorraine. At first, he didn’t like her—too flashy, brash, built like a wardrobe. Stared like she wanted to swallow him whole. He left early, went home.
That night, he lied to Katie for the first time—said he’d worked late. Shame burned; his pulse raced. She thought he was ill. He just felt so guilty, his temperature spiked.
Then Gary coaxed him back: “Just half an hour!” And there was Lorraine again.
—C’mon, Al! She imports furs from Greece—two market stalls! Get Katie a fur coat, whatever she fancies!
—Why would I? I’ve got Katie.
—Don’t kid yourself. She’s bored alone. What’s it to you? Sable coat for Katie—want it?
—Yeah…
So he went. Again and again. All for that damned fur. Didn’t even know how he ended up in bed with Lorraine. Cried driving home, sick with guilt. Then Katie found out… and kicked him out.
Lorraine was over the moon.
That evening, Maisie was stormy.
—Maz, did he come to you?— Jamie mumbled.
—And to you?
A nod.
—Told him to shove off. Hate him. Traitor.
Maisie nodded.
Alex ached.
—What’s up, love?— Lorraine asked.
—The kids won’t talk to me. Katie neither… Offered ’em money, but they’ve got pride. Know it’s tough for ’em…
—Well, she chucked you out,— Lorraine shrugged.
—She did… But how’d she know? We were discreet…
Lorraine rose from the massive bed—one Alex had never dreamed of—set her champagne flute down. She loved the stuff, forcing it on him even though he hated it, along with strawberries—he was allergic.
—I told her,— she said airily.
—You?
—Just did. She didn’t believe me till I described your birthmark… and how you cry after, y’know… the happy bits.
—You?! Why, Lorraine?! She booted me out!
—So? How else d’you think I’d get you? Al, what—where you going?
—Home. To my wife. My kids.
—She ditched you, you daft git!
—She’ll forgive me. Katie’s kind. If not—I’ll live in the hallway.
—Al, we bought her that coat…
—Keep it, Lorraine. Don’t call.
—Katie, love…
—I’ve said my piece, Alex.
—Listen! I never meant… Wanted to get you that sable coat. Gary’s fault—said just sit with her, she does furs, you’d get one… Then she told you. I didn’t mean to, just the coat… for your birthday. And you kicked me out.
—Go away, Alex.
—Still out there?— Katie asked Maisie.
—Yeah, Mum. Raining now. He’ll catch cold.
—Sod him… A fur, he says. Sable. For my birthday.
—Shall we let him in?— Maisie murmured.
—Dunno… Jay? What d’you reckon? He’ll freeze.
Jamie sniffed, silent.
—Let’s bring him in,— Katie decided. —He’s still a person.
They did. Sat him at the kitchen table, tea in hand, none meeting each other’s eyes.
—Sorry… Katie, forgive me… Kids, Jamie, Maisie, please…
—Why us?— the kids said. —You hurt Mum.
Then they all wept, clinging together.
—Al, what’s Greece like?— Katie asked.
—Bloody hell, love,— Alex brightened, spinning tales of places he’d barely seen.
He never spoke to Gary again. And years later, they did buy Katie that fur—for another birthday. Mink.
