Chapter 4

I never heard from her again. Oh I tried to get in touch with her of course, especially when I was served with the divorce papers citing my alleged 'mental cruelty' as the reason for her leaving me- her damn father's idea no doubt.

Every time I tried to ring her at her parents house I was informed by him that I was no longer part of his daughter's life and to keep away from his family or else. After several failed attempts to reach her, I was eventually served with a 'restraining order' preventing me from trying to contact her or her family again, and not allowing me within five hundred yards of them as they feared for their safety because of my martial arts skills and my well-known temper.

That was all bollocks of course. No way I would have physically harmed her, I just wanted to find out what had happened that caused her to no longer love me. Her father? Different matter. I would gladly have kicked the shit out that interfering prick.

After she had stormed out of the house, I'd rung work and explained to the boss that I needed some time off urgently. He was not happy, complaining that we were far too busy for me to suddenly take a holiday. Eventually he reluctantly agreed, but only after I threatened to leave completely if he didn't. I told him I had things to do- personal things – and that I'd be back at work in about 2 weeks.

The majority of that downtime I spent moping around the house and feeling sorry for myself as I continuously wondered what the fuck had happened. Trying to ring my in-laws or, I'm sorry to say, drinking alone until I passed out, occupied most of my waking hours as I rapidly turned into a drunken mess.

Toward the end of my self-imposed solitude, I heard the doorbell ring early one evening. I was sat in the TV room with a nearly empty bottle of scotch in one hand and the TV remote in the other. I was not really watching some inane rubbish that was on the large monstrosity my dear wife had insisted we buy, as I drunkenly cursed her, her father and everyone else who fucking knew her. Hoping beyond hope that it was my wife returning to me so she could explain it had all been a mistake and she still loved me dearly, I staggered to the door and opened it to find, not my wife, but my mother-in-law, Gwen.

"Oh my God, John. Look at the state of you." She exclaimed, her face showing her shock as she pushed past me into the hallway and slammed the door behind her. "Good grief son, you look a right mess."

"What the fuck do you want? And where's my fucking wife?" I snapped, obviously shocking her with my foul-mouthed drunkenness.

"There's no need for that sort of language. It's not like you at all." my mother-in-law replied sternly.

"Sorry," I mumbled, suitably chastened by the woman I had always liked and admired, "I just want to know where she is so we can sort all this out."

Sitting down in a fireside chair, she suddenly burst into tears.

"Oh John dear, I'm so sorry. I don't know what's come over her; I had no idea anything was wrong, why she felt she needed to leave you. I'm so sorry, but it appears she's adamant that your marriage is over and she wants a divorce. She's gone away on a holiday somewhere. I'm so sorry, I really am..." she sobbed.

"Hey, it's not your fault," I replied as I sat on the chair arm and put my arm around her, "There's no need for you to get so upset."

Leaning her head on my arm, she answered, "Oh I don't know. Perhaps if I had been stronger when she was growing up and not let her father spoil her, perhaps she would have appreciated more what a good man she had. Maybe not been so keen to have everything her own way."