The Divorce Club (15 page)

"My parents would love him. I bet a guy like
Jake would treat me like gold and never cheat on me. And I'd always
know where he was," Shannon says.

"On the computer." I laugh. "If he left to go
to the store, he'd probably make sure to update you on
Facebook."

She laughs. "Or Twitter. Too bad he's too
young for my blood."

"Now, we talked about dating too quickly." I
give her shoulder a squeeze. "You did good in there. I knew we'd
convince him to assist us."

"I'm just so thankful for your help. Still, I
might not even get permanent residence status."

I huff as I jump onto the passenger seat,
then slam the door and wait for her to start the engine. "I know.
But providing a reference that you own a house and invest into this
country is the best way to go about things."

"Apart from simply staying married," she
whispers. Her voice is dripping with bitterness. I'd like to deny
it, but I can't because she has a point.

"Sometimes there's more than one solution to
a problem. You'll just have to find out what works for you."

Even though cars are waiting in line for the
parking space, Shannon doesn't pull out just yet. She grabs my
hands and turns to face me, a weak smile playing on her lips.
"Thank you. I wouldn't have had the guts to go through with it
without you."

I smirk, embarrassed. "You needed the right
kick to get things in motion. Don't thank me just yet. There's
still a long way to go, and the hard nuts are yet to be
cracked."

She smiles, but I can see a glint in her eyes
that wasn't there before. For the first time, I'm proud of what I'm
doing because I feel as though I've contributed to something
big.

"I'll drive you back. You probably have a
thousand other things to do," Shannon says.

"Not really. If you don't mind I'd like to
have that cake. I haven't had any since—" I tap a finger against my
lips in mock concentration "—yesterday."

"Yeah, at the meeting." Shannon laughs, and I
join in. I might have had a hard time divorcing Greg, but it was
nothing compared to what Shannon's going through. If there's
anything I can do to help her feel less lonely and helpless in the
process, I'll do it.

Five clients, two individual meetings and
three group meetings—I knew taking on this much work would prove a
tough task. It's only Tuesday and I'm already knackered. Sam's home
when I arrive back from my meeting with Shannon. Surprisingly,
she's in a good mood, which is a real bonus in addition to not
having to chase her around London's shopping centers. Thank God, I
never see her with new things; otherwise I might be inclined to
believe she shoplifts.

I enter the kitchen and find her sitting at
the table, frowning over a few sheets of paper. "Had a good day?" I
ask as I bend over to kiss her forehead. She must be so frustrated
with math that she doesn't even pull back. I have to admit I'm
enjoying her falling into little girl mode after all the snapping
and shouting from the last few months.

"Jamie called," she says without looking
up.

"He did?" My heart skips a beat. What's with
this guy and his constant influence on my organs' functions? He's
like a Shaman able to influence the weather; only, Jamie can
probably give one a heart attack and then summon a pulse back to
life. "What did he say?"

"That he's not coming to tomorrow's
session."

"Why not?"

Sam rolls her eyes. "Mum, how would I know?
I'm not a mind reader. Give him a call and ask."

A bell rings at the back of my head. Why
didn't he call me on my mobile? Suspicion's crawling up on me
again. One hears so many awful things nowadays so, naturally, as a
parent one can't be too careful. "Did he say anything to you?" I
try to keep my tone calm and nonchalant, like asking a friend about
a piece of clothing that was supposed to go on sale last week.

"Just that he's looking forward to
France."

"That he's looking forward going with us, or
going with
you
?"

Sam peers up from her papers; her forehead
creases into a frown. "I don't know."

Why doesn't she know? How can she not
remember a few words? I wish I could pester her a little more, but
she regards me intently, so I decide to change the subject before
she starts asking questions. "How's math going?"

Her expression changes from bad to worse. I
wish I had considered talking about the weather or, even better,
just disappear from the surface of earth.

"It's all right," Sam says.

"Really?"

She glares at me. "No, Mum. Not really. I
can't read minds
and
perform miracles, all at the same
time."

"I just thought—" I think of Jamie's advice:
don't show them you're scared, but Sam's already jumped up from her
seat and disappeared out the door.

For the first time, I'm wondering why I
didn't stay married for the sake of my sanity. Greg and I could've
ended up in an endless loop of silent treatment, but at least my
daughter wouldn't hate me now. I spend the rest of the evening on
the sofa, too exhausted to bemoan my fate.

It's midnight when I finally manage to drag
my wearied body out of the comfy depth of the cushions and amble to
the kitchen for a glass of water to soothe my dry throat. The stack
of dirty dishes piles high in the sink. I feel bad for being such
an irresponsible role model, but I try to convince myself that I
will get up early in the morning and take care of the mess before
my daughter has a chance to spy it.

Even though I haven't heard from my stalker
in forty-eight hours, I check the doors and windows one last time
before retreating to bed. I've barely closed my eyes when the door
opens and the shadow of a thin figure walks in. A shriek escapes my
throat; my hand clasps around the lamp on my bedside table, not to
switch on the light, but to use it as a potential weapon.

The figure doesn't seem to notice as she
jumps on the bed and snuggles under my blanket.

"Why are you shaking, Mum?" Sam whispers. Her
voice is thick with sleep.

"What's the matter? Can't you sleep?" I rub a
hand over her back to distract myself from the tingling sensation
in my left arm.

"I dreamed of Dad and you. He's probably busy
having another baby now."

"Shush." I draw her closer to my chest and
bury my face in her soft hair, hoping she won't feel the moisture
on my cheeks. Sam must be psychic because no one else knows Greg's
mistress was pregnant by the time the divorce went through. Knowing
he fathered her child gave me the strength to stay strong and see
my decisions to the end.

"Do you think she's smarter than me?" Sam's
voice jolts me out of my contemplation. I thought she was
asleep.

"Who, sweetie?"

"The baby," she says softly. "I bet she
wouldn't fail math like me."

"You didn't fail."

She snorts. "Yet."

"Look at me." I spin to regard her even
though it's too dark to see more than a blurry shape. "What's
happening right now is not your fault. Failing math isn't your
fault either. Do you hear me?" She nods, her whole body trembling
slightly. I continue, "All you have is a few concentration issues
because your world was turned upside down. In no way is this a
reflection of your intelligence, Sam. I don't ever want to hear you
talking like this again."

"But he still loves them more than us." Sam
turns her back on me and cuddles under the covers. I snuggle next
to her and keep silent because I can't argue with that. He must've
loved them more, otherwise he wouldn't have found it so easy to
betray us.

***

Like Sam said, Jamie doesn't turn up for the
meeting. He doesn't call either, which makes me nervous because I'm
not sure what's going on. Granted, I could've phoned him, but
that's not what my generation would do, and so I just wait, hoping,
praying and hating him more and more the longer I hear nothing.

He's just entered my life and already I'm
finding it hard to think of anything else but him. It's called
infatuation, having a crush on someone, wanting to possess—all the
things that have nothing to do with love, and yet I
still
can't bear to think of anything else but him. Even though I'm
exhausted and wish for the quiet life I led before, I'm also
grateful that the club keeps me occupied so I don't go bonkers.

I glance around the room in the hope Jamie
might materialize miraculously. Of course, he doesn't. My heart
pounds. How can he desert me like this?

"Looking for Mister Tall, Dark, and
Handsome?" Lucy asks.

"Not really." I frown, eager to find out
whether the others know more. "But since you're mentioning him,
where is he?"

Mindy laughs. "I bet Lucy scared him off last
week with all that talk about dating an older woman."

"He's running for the hills," Shannon
says.

"Let's face it," Lucy says. "Older women have
more experience. I can teach that kid a few tricks that'd make him
scream like he never screamed—"

"Lucy!" I say. "Please, spare us the
details."

"What?" She shrugs. "I'm telling you that
Jamie was giving me bedroom eyes."

"And you wonder why he's not here," Simone
says. "I'm actually glad because now I can talk more freely. This
place is for women, not men. Besides, he's probably out with his
new girlfriend, that lucky duck. Can you blame him?"

Shannon smiles. "I'd love to be the girl he
can't stop thinking about. I wonder who she is."

"She's too young for him," Lucy says. "She
can't satisfy him like I could."

"Hey, Lucy, if you need to teach a few tricks
to a kid, I know this loan consultant. He's blond, young and
looking for some experience. His name is Jack." Shannon winks at
me.

"It's
Jake
," I say, smiling. "Don't
even go there. He could never handle Lucy, and his mum would kick
him to the curb."

I try to pretend I don't care that Jamie
isn't here, but inside I'm fuming. What's more important than the
club? I'm turning into a sad, infatuated teenager.

"Are you okay, Sarah?" Mindy asks. "You look
flushed."

"I'm fine. Thanks for asking."

"Well, drink plenty of fluids and don't get
sick on me. It's essential we keep you healthy."

"You're right." I nod, determined. "Jamie's
not here and that's his loss. Now, back to business. Let's talk
about this week's lesson."

In Jamie's absence, the meeting continues
smoothly. Before I know it, it's over and I'm about to meet Mindy
for her individual appointment. For the first time, I've no idea
what to expect because, let's face it, pretending to be married
with the boss's husband to help the boss divorce him is crazy even
for me. Funnily enough, she's giving me a tour of the boss's house
and then I'm supposed to take it from there. I've no idea why we're
doing this, but apparently it's important.

"Should we get started straight away, or do
you want a drink first?" Mindy asks as soon as she's hung up my
coat and slipped some plastic bags under my heels.

"You know where the hubby keeps the key to
the liquor cabinet?"

She smiles. "I just might, but let's go
upstairs first."

I can't believe what I'm doing. "I'm going to
need a stiff one after this."

She giggles. "It's not that bad."

"Where are they anyway?"

"Eating out," Mindy says.

"Playing house when the folks aren't home
isn't my cup of tea. I know your boss wants us to frame him, but
I'm not keen on any fancy accessories. Especially not after I drain
the liquor cabinet from all the stress of leaving no evidence
behind."

She laughs. "What?"

Rolling my eyes, I hold up my hands.
"Jangling sterling silver bracelets fitted tightly around my
wrists."

"Stop it. We're not going to get arrested."
Mindy leads me upstairs to the bedrooms and opens the first door.
"Now, this is where he sleeps."

I nod. "The place where all the magic
happens. Why would I actually need to see this?" I'm hesitant to
step into a stranger's bedroom, but Mindy doesn't seem to mind
invading another's privacy and starts opening one drawer after
another.

"Last time I checked he had a huge box of
condoms in here," she says. "Maybe he found out that I know and
moved them."

I shrug. "Maybe the happy couple uses
protection."

Mindy shakes her head. "No. Trust me, when
this guy invests in a box and doesn't tell his wife, something's
seriously wrong."

At least the man has the dignity to stay
safe. Greg didn't care for anyone's health. I know because if he
did his mistress wouldn't be knocked up now.

"They've only been here for a few weeks."
Mindy stops and stares at me expectantly. I'm supposed to say
something, but what? Mindy digs her fingernails into my upper arms.
"Come on, just tell me. Knowing the truth will help a lot."

"I—" What does she want to hear?

"It's no longer just strippers, is it?" Mindy
slams the drawer shut and stomps down the stairs. I hurry after
her, flabbergasted. And then the meaning of her words slowly dawns
on me.

"He has a mistress," I whisper.

"Exactly," Mindy snaps. "I've kept my mouth
shut for years because he always said it's just about sex and I
can't satisfy him the way he needs to be satisfied, but he's taking
things way too far now."

I need to get out of here before someone
calls the police and my daughter spends the next three years
fending for herself because I'm behind bars for breaking and
entering. "Can we talk somewhere else, please?"

Mindy blinks several times, then stretches
her lips into a forced smile. "Of course. Let's sit in the
kitchen."

I shake my head. "Is there a café
nearby?"

"There's a
McDonald's
," Mindy
says.