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  Uhm…no, actually. I’d been perfectly happy the way things were. Or, at least, definitely not unhappy. I obviously had a much higher boredom threshold than he did, and significantly lower expectations of how exciting family life in the suburbs was supposed to be. Simon, though, seemed to mean what he was saying, and appeared confused that I didn’t ‘get it’ – he genuinely thought we’d both been unhappy, that this was somehow inevitable or necessary, a natural progression rather than a thunderbolt from the blue.

  ‘So who’s the lucky woman then?’ I asked, focusing on the mistress straight away. The other issues – the fact that he’d seen our marriage in a totally different way to me – were too complicated to tackle just then. The fact that he was shagging someone else was, in a twisted way, more palatable.

  Even as I spoke, I recognised that my tone of voice could curdle milk. I sounded like a bitter old hag, and might as well buy seven cats and stop washing right now.

  ‘Her name is Monika,’ he replied, intonating the name with such reverence that he could have been talking about the Virgin Mary. Except not in this case, it would seem, unless the Blessed Mother had taken a very unexpected turning in life. ‘We met in a…in a hospitality venue I visited when I was on that Ortho conference in London in March.’

  ‘The one you said was full of cranky old men talking about hip replacements over their peppered steak? And what’s a “hospitality venue” anyway? Is it double-speak for a pub or a…’

  The light slowly dawned as he started to shuffle slightly nervously next to me, casting his eyes down for the first time.

  ‘A strip club? A strip club. You’re running off with a fucking stripper. My God, Simon – could you be any more predictable? You’re giving up your wife, your home, your kids and your bloody dog, all for the sake of someone who shakes her tits for a living?’

  His head snapped up again, and I could see I’d hit a nerve. ‘She’s not just some slapper, you know! Back in Latvia she was training at catering school, then the opportunity came up to travel to London. She’s a really intelligent girl, I’m sure she’ll do very well for herself once she goes back to college!’

  ‘In Latvia? Back to college? Please tell me you mean as a mature student…how old is she?’

  A beat of silence. He didn’t want to tell me. This was going to be bad – very bad.

  ‘HOW OLD IS SHE?’ I yelled in his face.

  ‘Nineteen,’ he mumbled, jerking his head back in shock, ‘she’s nineteen, all right? But that means nothing. Where she’s come from, that’s mature. She’s been through more than most people have already. It’s not easy growing up in Latvia, you know. There wasn’t much money, no jobs, no way out. She needed—’

  ‘She needed a really stupid man, Simon, that’s what she needed. A really stupid man with a bit of money and his brains in his balls. And it looks like she got exactly that. It’s pathetic…Ollie and Lucy are losing their father because you can’t keep it in your pants? Have you any idea how much this is going to hurt them?’

  ‘But it won’t,’ he replied, edging away from my anger. ‘They’ll understand, even if you don’t. They’re older now – we’ve done a good job raising them. They’ve had a solid start in life, and they don’t need us to be together for their sake any more. They’ll know I deserve a chance to be happy and in love – and so do you. And there’s no problem with the house – obviously you’ll keep that for as long as you all need it – or with money. I’ll make sure you’re all provided for…’

  I was momentarily struck dumb by his use of the phrase ‘together for their sake’. Was that how he’d been feeling? Is that what our marriage had been? Had I been so stupid I hadn’t noticed – or was Simon rewriting our history to justify current actions he must be ashamed of, deep down?

  It was as though I was talking to a stranger – and one who certainly didn’t understand at least one of his children.

  ‘If you think for a minute that Lucy is going to accept this in any way,’ I said, ‘you’re even dumber than you look in those sprayed-on jeans. She’ll hate you for it. And I don’t blame her.’

  I don’t know how he’d expected this conversation to go, but I was clearly not reacting the way he’d expected. He looked almost afraid as my voice rose. He stood up, retreating by several steps and taking refuge by the bay window – presumably so he’d have witnesses if I whacked him round the head with a paperweight.

  ‘Don’t worry, Simon, you’re not worth it. If I’m not what you want any more, that’s your choice. Before you came here today I was really hoping we could patch things up. That we could put things right – that I could try and be more like you want me to be. But without the aid of a time machine, that’s obviously not going to happen. I can’t believe you’re leaving me for someone who’s not much older than your own daughter. We’ve gone through all these years together and you throw it away like it means nothing…’

  My quieter tone calmed him, and he took a step forward, holding out his hands in supplication. How could somebody so familiar, so beloved, suddenly be a complete alien? I suppose we’d taken each other so much for granted over the years that it seemed unbelievable that anything could change. Now here he was in front of me, as a totally different person. Amazing what the love of a bad woman can do for a man.

  I wanted to kill him, and spit on his bleeding corpse. And I wanted him to take me in his arms and tell me he’d stay, that everything was going to be all right. I wanted the whole damn mess to just go away. I wanted my husband back. I wanted to sleep for ever. The shock of it all was starting to really kick in, and I didn’t know where to put myself. The anger of my words was real – but the changing landscape of my future life was now becoming a hideous reality, a poisonous shift that I could do nothing to control or avoid.

  ‘I’m sorry Sal,’ he said, sounding genuinely regretful. ‘If there was anything I could do to make you feel better, I would…but I belong with Monika now. If I don’t try and make a go of this, I’ll never forgive myself – and I won’t be much use here with you, either.’

  I gulped back the sobs I could feel coming. I needed to weep and wail and beg God to help me, but that was between me and the Almighty. I’d never forgive myself if I broke down in front of Simon.

  ‘You’d better go then,’ I said, waving him towards the door. ‘Leave the keys behind. Call to arrange a time to see the kids. Your bag’s in the hall. And yes, I did pack your five freshly ironed work shirts.’

  With five freshly burned holes through the backs, I silently added. But he didn’t need to discover that until Monday morning, did he?

  The Birthday That Changed Everything is available to preorder now.

  Coming soon from Debbie Johnson…

  Tap the cover to pre-order now.

  Also by Debbie Johnson…

  Cold Feet at Christmas

  Pippa's Cornish Dream

  About the Author

  Debbie Johnson lives in Liverpool, where she spends her time writing, looking after a small tribe of children and animals, and not doing the housework. Her previous novels have included best-selling e-books Cold Feet At Christmas, Pippa’s Cornish Dream, and Never Kiss A Man In A Christmas Jumper. She also writes fantasy and crime fiction, to keep her out of trouble.

  www.debbiejohnsonauthor.com

  @debbiemjohnson

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