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Authors: John O'Farrell
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transvestite, adding, ‘Well, as far as I know, anyway …’
I wanted more stories, more memories of Maddy. But while I wanted to find out more about my marriage, Gary felt I needed to focus on the ending of it. They had obviously had a conversation while I was in the bath and now I was reminded that I was due in court on Friday, for the final stage of what they earnestly assured me had been a very long, painful and expensive business.
‘To put it off now would be the last thing you would have wanted,’ Gary told me.
‘You have to jump through this last hoop, Vaughan, for Maddy and the kids’ sakes as much as your own,’ added Linda.
The proposition that Gary was putting to me was that I was going to have to go to a court of law and pretend to a judge that nothing had happened to me in order to terminate a marriage I knew nothing about.
‘But what if they ask a question I don’t know the answer to?’
‘Your lawyer will be in there with you – he’ll just tell you what to say,’ Gary assured me.
‘And he’ll know about my condition?’
‘Er, well, probably not,’ said Gary. ‘I mean we could risk telling them, but what will they do? Insist on postponing the case and charge you another ten grand you haven’t got.’
‘Maddy and the kids are geared up to it happening on Friday. They need closure,’ said Linda.
‘I’m pretty sure this last hearing is already scripted. You just repeat your position to your judge, he makes his ruling, you swap CDs with Maddy and then it’s straight to the pub to flirt with the Polish barmaid.’
Gary was insistent that I would deeply regret not having gone through with the divorce if my memory suddenly returned and I awoke to discover that I had lost the chance to break free from an unhappy marriage.
‘Yes, you
say
it was an unhappy marriage …’ I ventured.
‘Well, you
are
getting divorced,’ pointed out Gary. ‘That is sometimes a sign …’
I had sensed that our split had been an acrimonious one, but on digging a little deeper I learned that it was not until the actual divorce process was under way that things had turned really nasty. Apparently when Maddy and I had first separated we had still been behaving towards one another like reasonably civilized people. It was only after we were swept along in an adversarial legal system, and learned of the provocative claims and demands being made by the other side’s lawyers, that personal hostilities spiralled out of control. ‘I remember the history teacher in you compared the divorce process to war,’ recalled Gary. ‘You told me that in 1939 the RAF thought it was immoral to bomb the Black Forest to deprive the Germans of timber. But by 1945 they were deliberately creating firestorms to kill as many civilians as possible.’
‘Maddy and I hadn’t quite reached the Dresden stage, I hope?’
‘No, you two were at, sort of, June 1944. She’d invaded Normandy, but you still had the Doodlebug up your sleeve.’
‘Right. So I’m the Nazis in this metaphor?’
However persuasive they were that we’d be better off apart, I felt I couldn’t agree there and then to take this momentous step in the dark. My authority was not helped by the fact that I was still wearing a pink lady’s bathrobe. When I was dressed, I announced that I’d like to go out for a walk on my own, to have a bit of a think, and somewhere between Linda’s nervous concern and Gary’s total indifference, we reached a compromise that it would be fine as long as I took an
A–Z
with their address and phone number written in the back and twenty pounds in cash, which I promised to return.
‘Are you sure you’ll be okay?’ repeated Linda at the door. ‘You don’t want one of us to come with you?’
‘No, really – I just fancy getting out. After a week in the hospital and everything that’s happened, I just need to clear my head a bit.’
‘I think your head is cleared enough already, mate,’ heckled Gary, from the
I wanted more stories, more memories of Maddy. But while I wanted to find out more about my marriage, Gary felt I needed to focus on the ending of it. They had obviously had a conversation while I was in the bath and now I was reminded that I was due in court on Friday, for the final stage of what they earnestly assured me had been a very long, painful and expensive business.
‘To put it off now would be the last thing you would have wanted,’ Gary told me.
‘You have to jump through this last hoop, Vaughan, for Maddy and the kids’ sakes as much as your own,’ added Linda.
The proposition that Gary was putting to me was that I was going to have to go to a court of law and pretend to a judge that nothing had happened to me in order to terminate a marriage I knew nothing about.
‘But what if they ask a question I don’t know the answer to?’
‘Your lawyer will be in there with you – he’ll just tell you what to say,’ Gary assured me.
‘And he’ll know about my condition?’
‘Er, well, probably not,’ said Gary. ‘I mean we could risk telling them, but what will they do? Insist on postponing the case and charge you another ten grand you haven’t got.’
‘Maddy and the kids are geared up to it happening on Friday. They need closure,’ said Linda.
‘I’m pretty sure this last hearing is already scripted. You just repeat your position to your judge, he makes his ruling, you swap CDs with Maddy and then it’s straight to the pub to flirt with the Polish barmaid.’
Gary was insistent that I would deeply regret not having gone through with the divorce if my memory suddenly returned and I awoke to discover that I had lost the chance to break free from an unhappy marriage.
‘Yes, you
say
it was an unhappy marriage …’ I ventured.
‘Well, you
are
getting divorced,’ pointed out Gary. ‘That is sometimes a sign …’
I had sensed that our split had been an acrimonious one, but on digging a little deeper I learned that it was not until the actual divorce process was under way that things had turned really nasty. Apparently when Maddy and I had first separated we had still been behaving towards one another like reasonably civilized people. It was only after we were swept along in an adversarial legal system, and learned of the provocative claims and demands being made by the other side’s lawyers, that personal hostilities spiralled out of control. ‘I remember the history teacher in you compared the divorce process to war,’ recalled Gary. ‘You told me that in 1939 the RAF thought it was immoral to bomb the Black Forest to deprive the Germans of timber. But by 1945 they were deliberately creating firestorms to kill as many civilians as possible.’
‘Maddy and I hadn’t quite reached the Dresden stage, I hope?’
‘No, you two were at, sort of, June 1944. She’d invaded Normandy, but you still had the Doodlebug up your sleeve.’
‘Right. So I’m the Nazis in this metaphor?’
However persuasive they were that we’d be better off apart, I felt I couldn’t agree there and then to take this momentous step in the dark. My authority was not helped by the fact that I was still wearing a pink lady’s bathrobe. When I was dressed, I announced that I’d like to go out for a walk on my own, to have a bit of a think, and somewhere between Linda’s nervous concern and Gary’s total indifference, we reached a compromise that it would be fine as long as I took an
A–Z
with their address and phone number written in the back and twenty pounds in cash, which I promised to return.
‘Are you sure you’ll be okay?’ repeated Linda at the door. ‘You don’t want one of us to come with you?’
‘No, really – I just fancy getting out. After a week in the hospital and everything that’s happened, I just need to clear my head a bit.’
‘I think your head is cleared enough already, mate,’ heckled Gary, from the
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