Too Many Coincidences

‘If those are your instructions, madam, I’ll draw up the necessary papers and have them ready for you to sign within the next few days.’

When the decree nisi was served, Gerald suggested they celebrate by taking a holiday. Ruth agreed to the idea, just as long as they didn’t have to go anywhere near Italy.

‘Let’s sail around the Greek islands,’ said Gerald. ‘That way there will be less chance of bumping into any of my pupils, not to mention their parents.’ They flew to Athens the next day.

When they sailed into the harbour at Skyros, Ruth said, ‘I’d never thought I would spend my third wedding anniversary with another man.’

Gerald took her in his arms. ‘Try to forget Max,’ he said. ‘He’s history.’

‘Well, nearly,’ Ruth said. ‘I was rather hoping that the divorce would have been absolute before we left Jersey.’

‘Have you any idea what’s caused the hold-up?’ Gerald asked.

‘Heaven knows,’ Ruth replied, ‘but whatever it is, Max will have his reasons.’ She paused. ‘You know, I never did get to see his office in Mayfair, or meet any of his colleagues or friends. It’s almost as if it was all a figment of my imagination.’

‘Or his,’ said Gerald, putting an arm around her waist. ‘But don’t let’s waste any more time talking about Max. Let’s think about Greeks, and bacchanalian orgies.’

‘Is that what you teach those innocent little children in their formative years?’

‘No, it’s what they teach me,’ Gerald replied.

For the next three weeks the two of them sailed around the Greek islands, eating too much moussaka, drinking too much wine, and hoping that too much sex would keep their weight down. By the end of their holiday Gerald was a little too red, and Ruth was dreading being reintroduced to her bathroom scales. The holiday could not have been more fun; not only because Gerald was such a good sailor, but because, as Ruth discovered, even during a storm he could make her laugh.

Once they were back on Jersey, Gerald drove Ruth to the house. When she opened the front door she was greeted by a pile of letters. She sighed. They could all wait until tomorrow, she decided.

Ruth spent a restless night tossing and turning. After snatching a few hours’ sleep, she decided that she might as well get up and make herself a cup of tea. She began to thumb through the post, only stopping when she came to a long buff envelope marked ‘Urgent’ and bearing a London postmark.

She tore it open and extracted a document that brought a smile to her face: ‘A decree absolute has been granted between the aforesaid parties: Max Donald Bennett and Ruth Ethel Bennett.’

‘That settles that once and for all,’ she said out loud, and immediately phoned Gerald to tell him the good news.

‘Disappointing,’ he said.

‘Disappointing?’ she repeated.

‘Yes, my darling. You have no idea how much my street cred has risen since the boys at school discovered I’ve been on holiday with a married woman.’

Ruth laughed. ‘Behave yourself, Gerald, and try to get used to the idea of being a respectable married man.’

‘Can’t wait,’ he said. ‘But must dash. It’s one thing to be living in sin; it’s quite another to be late for morning prayers.’

Ruth went up to the bathroom and stood gingerly on the scales. She groaned when she saw where the little indicator finally stopped. She decided she would have to spend at least an hour in the gym that morning. The phone rang just as she was stepping into the bath. She got back out and grabbed a towel, thinking it must be Gerald again.

‘Good morning, Mrs Bennett,’ said a rather formal voice. How she hated even the sound of that name.

‘Good morning,’ she replied.

‘It’s Mr Craddock, madam. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for the past three weeks.’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ said Ruth, ‘but I only returned from a holiday in Greece last night.’

‘Yes, I see. Well, perhaps we could meet as soon as it’s convenient?’ he said, showing no interest in her holiday.

‘Yes, of course, Mr Craddock. I could pop into your office around twelve, if that would suit you.’

‘Any time you decide will suit us, Mrs Bennett,’ said the formal voice.

Ruth worked hard in the gym that morning, determined to lose the surplus pounds she had put on in Greece – respectable married woman or not, she still wanted to be slim. By the time she’d come off the running machine, the gym clock was chiming twelve. Despite hurrying through to the locker room and showering and changing as quickly as possible, she was still thirty-five minutes late for Mr Craddock.