After the One by Cass Lester (novels for students .txt) 📗

aggrieved wife from some 1950s black-and-white movie, she typed: ‘I am divorcing Geoff.’ It was a statement drenched in accusation, with the blame firmly laid at Geoff’s door.

‘Well, that’s the truth of it,’ she told herself decisively, before she rapidly finished the email, and clicked SEND.

Late that night, Charley got back from the pub to find Pam still up and printing off reams of paper. The coffee table was strewn with piles of it.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Just looking stuff up. How was work?’

‘Fine,’ lied Charley, kicking off her shoes and curling upon the sofa, sincerely hoping Pam wasn’t going to ask any more about her evening. There’d been some sports event playing on a mega screen which the pub had hired in specially. Charley neither knew nor cared what the match was; all that mattered to her was that the bar was heaving. It was standing room only, and it hadn’t been humanly possible to pour the pints quickly enough. Drunken tempers had flared, and the shift had been one long stress-out. She’d barely had the energy to cycle home.

Stifling a yawn, she asked, ‘What sort of stuff are you looking up?’

‘How to get a divorce.’

‘Oh!’ Charley didn’t even try to keep the surprise out of her voice. ‘Isn’t it a bit late to be doing that?’

‘Only by about five years,’ quipped Pam.

‘I didn’t mean that! It’s nearly midnight.’

‘Is it? Oh, good grief, I’ve been doing this for hours! I thought it was meant to be easy to get a divorce these days,’ complained Pam, printing off yet another wodge of paperwork. ‘I swear I read somewhere that you could get a divorce in six weeks.’

‘Six weeks!’ Charley was astonished.

‘Yes. It was on a website… I printed it off somewhere…’ Pam starting sifting through the mound of papers on the table. ‘There are all these companies who can help you… for a great big fat fee, no doubt.’

I’ll bet, thought Charley.

‘But then I also read that you can do it online,’ Pam continued.

‘Online? No, that can’t be right.’ To her certain knowledge, Nisha’s divorce had taken eighteen months, two lawyers, a visit to court and an eye-watering amount of money.

Sighing heavily, Pam picked up the stack of papers and started trying to sort them out. ‘Honestly, half of these say one thing and the rest of them something else,’ she said irritably. And then suddenly she gave up, tossing the paperwork onto the table in despair and sinking down next to Charley on the sofa. ‘I’m even more confused than when I started.’

‘We’ll ask Nisha. She’ll help you.’

‘I can’t do that, I hardly know her!’

‘Yes, you can,’ said Charley, stifling another yawn. ‘And anyhow, you don’t have to ask her. I will.’

Pam was about to protest, but Charley stopped her with a look. ‘I’ll call her tomorrow. Trust me, she’s the font of all knowledge and everything will seem much better when you’ve talked to Nisha.’

Then she stood up, stretched wearily and went to shower away the delicate aroma of inner-city pub before she dropped into bed.

Since it was bit of a cheek, well a hell of a cheek really, to expect one of Charley’s friends to do her a favour for nothing, Pam reckoned the least she could do was feed the woman. She’d laid out a light lunch with a spinach-and-ricotta frittata, three salads, a fresh-baked ciabatta with a balsamic dressing dip, and a cheeseboard, followed by a summer pudding.

‘If you get bored living here, move in with me!’ said Nisha, helping herself eagerly.

‘Hey, hands off my lodger!’ laughed Charley.

Pam smiled and tore the ciabatta into chunks.

Charley had warned her that Nisha was usually very reserved about her private life, so she was surprised when the younger woman seemed happy to be open with her. But then, perhaps few things hurl two women towards an instant and binding friendship faster than discovering that they’ve both been dumped by an effing bastard of a husband for a younger woman. It catapults them into the elite corps of the cheated on.

‘Five years. Five years! And I didn’t rumble him,’ sighed Pam. ‘All those countless nights “working late” and the improbable number of “leaving parties” he had to go to. The company must have been haemorrhaging staff. HR must have been in triage! Then there were endless excuses for getting home late: punctures, flat batteries, breakdowns…’

‘Heavy traffic, road closures, flash floods…’ added Nisha knowingly. ‘And of course, he could never call to let me know… because his phone had died. Or he’d left it on his desk.’

‘Geoff dropped his down the loo in the Gents.’

‘Ha!’ Nisha shrieked with laughter. ‘Jay told me that one, too.’

‘There’s probably a website with lists of excuses cheating husbands can download,’ said Charley. ‘Excuses 4 U.’

‘Or Bastards R Us,’ suggested Pam with a laugh. Then she suddenly deflated. ‘I just wish I didn’t feel such a fool.’

Nisha threw her a sympathetic smile. ‘Welcome to my world.’

Pam winced, recognising that this was very much now her world.

‘Anyhow, enough of the whinge-fest,’ announced Nisha, putting down her fork, as if to signal she was giving Pam her full attention. ‘How can I help you?’

Plucking up her courage and still worried that the sky would fall on her head if she uttered the ‘D’ word, Pam confided that she needed some advice about divorce.

‘I don’t think my husband will be difficult about it. I just want to know the quickest and easiest way to do it.’

‘There is no quick, easy way to get a divorce,’ said Nisha bluntly. ‘It takes months. Years, even. My divorce took much longer than I thought it would. It was way more complicated, and painful, than I’d imagined. And it hurt more. It really hurt having to accept that my marriage had failed. People say going through a divorce is a bit like a bereavement…’

She stopped abruptly, having caught, as Pam had done, the look of hurt incredulity on Charley’s face.

Nisha looked as if she wanted the ground to swallow her. Pam