Growing Old Disgracefully

Chapter 1

MAY

Nancy

The letter was waiting for her, propped against the tea caddy when she came home from work on Friday.

A white envelope with her name on the front, written in Clifford’s slanted black handwriting, with the little flick on the top of the ‘N’ and the curl on the ‘y’ of Nancy.

He must have come home early and written this.

Her stomach fluttered with unease. Was this bad news that he couldn’t bring himself to tell her face to face?

Had he lost his job? Her hand flew to her mouth – was he seriously ill?

Cancer? He had looked a bit peaky just lately and she’d been nagging him to get a check-up.

Then she took a breath, opened the envelope and pulled out the single sheet of crisp, white paper.

Dear Nancy,

There is no easy way to tell you this but I have left you.

I’ve taken early retirement and am going to travel around the world.

I’ve thought about this a lot and realise that I don’t have many active years left.

I’ve plodded through life, hardly doing or seeing anything.

So now I’m going to take this opportunity before I’m too old.

I know that it’s something you won’t want to do, and that you will try to talk me out of it.

That’s why I’ve gone now, while you are at work.

I’ve taken everything I need; you can get rid of the rest how you see fit.

I’ve withdrawn the savings to fund my travels, until I receive my pension, which is only fair as you have the house.

Although, I’m afraid that the mortgage won’t be paid off next year, as we planned, because I fell into financial difficulties a few years ago and had to remortgage and could only afford an interest-only one.

So you will have to sell up, but there should be enough left to get yourself a little flat, which will be quite adequate for you.

Goodbye,

Clifford

Nancy gasped, blinked then read it again. And again, more slowly this time. But it made no difference however many times she read it; it still said the same. Clifford had left her.

She dropped the letter onto the table, her confused mind trying to make sense of it.

It must be some sort of stupid joke. She phoned Clifford, willing him to pick up and laugh about how he’d tricked her, even though he never played practical jokes like this.

The phone rang out. He knew she would be home by now, that she would have read the letter, so why wasn’t he answering?

Bewildered, she went upstairs and checked Clifford’s wardrobe.

Empty. She opened the chest of drawers on his side of the bed.

Empty. She sank down onto the edge of the bed.

The note wasn’t a joke. Clifford had left her.

He’d actually left her. After all these years – thirty-two of them – he’d upped and left. Just like that.

Nancy’s mind couldn’t take it in. Okay, they hadn’t exactly been love’s young dream the past few years – maybe never had if she was being honest – but they muddled along nicely together.

They both liked a quiet life, no big dramas; they were polite to each other, respected each other.

She thought they would be together forever. How wrong she was.

Shock turned to anger. He wasn’t going to get away with this, dumping her with a note as if it was merely a casual relationship.

How bloody dare he! She went back downstairs to where she’d left her phone on the table and dialled his number again.

And again. Still no answer. So she sent him a message, demanding to know what the hell was going on. She refused to be ignored like this.

A burnt smell wafted over to her. Oh shit, the pie!

She’d put it, and some chips, in the oven before she’d spotted the note.

Dashing over she switched it off then grabbed a tea towel and opened the oven door.

Smoke billowed out and the smoke alarm sprang to life, screeching so loudly you’d think the whole house was on fire!

She grabbed the tray containing the blackened pie and chips, placed them in the sink, flung open the kitchen window and then fanned the tea towel under the shrieking alarm. Finally, it stopped.

She collapsed onto a chair and gathered her breath.

Then she turned her attention back to the letter.

At first she’d merely been focused on the fact that Clifford had left her, but another read of the letter reminded her that he’d said that the mortgage would not be paid off next year as she’d believed.

And Clifford had emptied their savings account.

It was all so sudden, so unexpected. And it didn’t make sense.

What should she do now?

She did the only thing she could think of: phoned her sister, Val. They always turned to each other in times of crisis and if this wasn’t a crisis, she didn’t know what was.

‘Hello, love, how are you doing?’ Val’s voice sounded so warm and friendly that Nancy immediately burst into tears.

‘Are you crying? Nancy? What’s happened, love?’

‘Clifford’s left me. And he’s taken our savings.’ In between sobs, Nancy managed to tell Val about the note. ‘I’ve phoned him but he isn’t picking up.’

‘The complete arsehole!’ After Val had uttered a series of further expletives, she announced, ‘I’m coming around. I’ll be there in ten minutes.’

She’d ended the call before Nancy could thank her.

Nancy could imagine Val giving Dennis, her husband, a short summary of what had happened before grabbing her bag and car keys.

Val was clearly furious on Nancy’s behalf, and she’d sounded stunned.

She’d always said that Clifford was as dull as dishwater.

Clifford liked routine: the same meals on the same days of the week, watching the same programmes, reading the same newspaper.

He wasn’t exactly exciting, but he was reliable and kind.

At least Nancy had thought he was. She wiped her eyes and stood up. Better put the kettle on.

She walked slowly over to the kettle and flicked the switch. Then she paused. Sod it, she didn’t need tea, she needed something stronger.

She strode into the living room, opened the drinks cabinet where they kept a couple of bottles of scotch and brandy, and gaped. It was empty. Clifford had taken them. He was never a heavy drinker, neither of them were, but they sometimes had a small tot before they went to bed at weekends.

She turned, as there was a tap on the window. Val was peering through the small square grids in the glass. She’d got here quick.

Still feeling numb, Nancy shuffled out into the hall and opened the door. Val burst in like a gush of wind, waving a bottle of brandy. ‘I thought you might need this.’

‘You lifesaver! I went to pour myself a glass and discovered that Clifford’s cleaned out the drink cupboard. As well as the bank.’ A sob caught in Nancy’s throat.

‘The slimeball.’ Val pulled her into a big hug, while holding the bottle of brandy aloft.

Three years younger than Nancy, with shorter highlighted hair, taller and slimmer with a penchant for bright clothes like the orange and white jumpsuit she was wearing, Val was a force to be reckoned with.

‘Right, let’s get a drink, then you can tell me all about it.

’ She marched purposefully into the lounge and Nancy sniffed back her tears and followed her.

Val set the bottle of alcohol down on the table, strode over to the drinks cabinet and took out two small crystal glasses.

Placing them next to the brandy she opened the bottle. ‘Straight or on the rocks?’ she asked.

‘Straight,’ Nancy said bravely.

Val half filled the two glasses with the amber-coloured liquid. She handed one to Nancy. ‘Here you are. Knock it back.’

Nancy looked at it doubtfully. ‘That’s quite a lot. And aren’t you driving?’

‘Dennis dropped me off and he’s picking me up when I’m ready to go. Right. On the count of three. One. Two. Three.’

They both tipped up their glasses at the same time. Nancy coughed and spluttered at the burning sensation as the liquid slid down her throat, then trickled further down, warming her inside. She put the glass down and sat back.

‘Feel better?’ Val asked.

Nancy nodded. ‘Actually, I do.’

‘That’s my girl. Now you can cry, shout and scream for a few minutes to get it out of your system and then we’re going to make a plan. First though, can I see the letter Slimeball left?’

Wordlessly, Nancy passed her Clifford’s letter. Val read it slowly, puckering her lips. Then she tossed it down on the table. ‘I don’t understand – isn’t the house in joint names? Surely Clifford would need your signature to remortgage.’

‘Actually, Clifford put the house solely in my name, for tax reasons. He was self-employed back then and didn’t want us to lose the house if his company went bust. We’ve never bothered to change it.’

Val’s eyebrows almost shot out of her head. ‘That’s even worse! He must have forged your signature…’

Nancy shook her head. ‘Clifford dealt with all the finances online and he did mention some years ago that he’d changed the mortgage.

I had to do a… what do you call it…? A digital signature,’ Nancy explained.

‘I trusted him. I didn’t realise that we weren’t paying anything off the mortgage itself, only interest on the loan. ’

‘Wow.’ Val looked a bit taken aback at this information. ‘Do you have any idea how much you owe?’

Nancy shook her head slowly. Talking to Val was bringing home the seriousness of the situation Clifford had left her in. She grabbed her phone. ‘I’m going to call him again; he’s not getting away with this!’

But once again the phone rang out.

‘He’s still not picking up. I bet he can’t face me after what he’s done!’

‘Or he’s changed his number.’

She hadn’t thought of that. Surely, he wouldn’t?

‘Do you know the online banking details so that you can find out what you owe?’ Val asked.

‘No, Clifford deals with it. I don’t even know the name of the mortgage company.’

‘Okay, well I’m sure your solicitor will know. You must book an appointment with them first thing on Monday and find out. You do know who your solicitors are, don’t you?’

Nancy nodded, relieved that she knew something. She was sure Val thought she was really na?ve. ‘Jensen’s, in town.’

‘If I could get my hands on that slimeball I’d throttle him,’ Val said furiously.

‘How dare he do this to you!’ Then her eyes narrowed.

‘Something about this doesn’t ring true.

Clifford’s never been one to travel; you’re the one who was always pushing to go on holiday.

And he isn’t the type to go off travelling alone either; he likes to be waited on.

Unless…’ She paused as if wondering whether to say it.

‘Go on.’

‘Well, you don’t think this is all a cover-up and he’s run off with another woman, do you?’

The thought had never entered Nancy’s mind.

‘I don’t— he wouldn’t—’ She blinked back the tears that were threatening to spill out of her eyes.

How could Clifford do this to her? She gulped.

He had taken all his clothes though, which didn’t make sense if he was going to travel around the world.

And the scotch and brandy – he couldn’t get on a plane with those.

Tears welled in her eyes and her voice trembled.

‘He wouldn’t do that to me. He wouldn’t. ’

‘I would say that – judging by this letter – anything is possible.’ Val placed her arms around Nancy’s shoulders and held her tight as she sobbed as if her heart would break.

‘I’m sorry, love. That was tactless of me.

Don’t hold back the tears. Just let it all out of your system,’ she said, patting Nancy’s back.

When Nancy had finished crying, Val handed her a tissue, and another glass of brandy.

Nancy tipped it back. ‘Thank you. I feel so silly sobbing like that, but—’

‘Nonsense. Your whole life has been derailed, of course you’re going to cry about it.

Feelings are better out than in.’ Then she looked Nancy firmly in the eye.

‘But now you need to be strong, Nancy. You need to look after yourself. Don’t even give a thought to Slimeball. Put yourself first for once.’

Nancy digested her words, her mind now feeling pleasantly fuzzy. This morning she had a husband and a home that she’d thought would be paid off next year. Now she had neither. How could her life change so drastically in the matter of a few hours?