**Diary Entry 10th June, 2024**
I was digging in the vegetable patch when the garden gate creaked open. «Paul, lookis that Vincent?» I asked, wiping the dirt from my hands.
Paul squinted. «Aye, its him. And hes got a big bag with him.» We exchanged a knowing glance.
«Looks like hes packed his things. You dont think Emilys finally kicked him out, do you? Hes pushed his luck far enough this time.»
Paul brushed the soil off his palmswed been planting seedlingsand went to greet his brother while I stayed back, watching. *Let Paul deal with him. Why should I run over to that arrogant sod?* Just as I turned back to my work, Vincent waved at me with a stiff, guilty smile. I waved back, thinking, *Like a scolded tabby. Mustve really mucked things up if hes turned up on our doorstep unannounced.*
Paul didnt talk to him long before returning to the garden, leaving Vincent to trudge inside.
«You were right, Nina,» Paul said. «Emilys tossed him out. Wont own up to it, thoughalways blames her. But we know the truth. She mustve had enough.»
«Can you blame her? She put up with his drinking and shouting for ages. And he raised his hand to her more than once.» I sighed. «I get itshe thought shed struck gold. Six years younger, good-looking. And after struggling to conceive with her first husband, she had a daughter with *him*. No wonder she was terrified of losing him.»
Paul smirked. «Aye, with *her* looks, its no surprise. Did you know what they called her at her old job? *The Witch of Wessex*!»
My eyebrows shot up. «Seriously?»
«Dead serious. And shed laugh along with it!»
«Shes got a sense of humour, Ill give her that. But it doesnt make up for what went on behind closed doors,» I murmured.
…Paul first met Emily at work. She was twenty-eight then, a dispatcher for a taxi firm, while he fixed their radios. She was married to the young directorfive years together, no children. Paul had been surprised the charming, handsome Mark had such a plain, blunt wife.
Then one day, Vincent turned up at the officecoincidentally, Emilys birthday. She suggested celebrating right there, and soon enough, Mark was called away. Next thing Paul knew, Emily was roaring with laughter at Vincents flirty jokes, and he was lapping up the attention.
Paul never saw the moment the spark caught, but by March, Emily announced she was divorcing Mark.
«Whats left in this marriage? My clocks ticking, and still no baby. *I* got checkednothing wrong. But Mark refuses to see a doctor. Kids arent in his plans. And hes cheatingI *know* he is. Everyone looks at me like Im daft. *Look at the Witch of Wessex*, they whisper, *what does he even see in her?*»
When Vincent told the family he was getting married, his parents were thrilled. Paul just stared.
«To *who*?»
«Emily!» Vincent grinned.
«But shes years older, and»
«Not much of a looker, eh? So what? Shes loaded. Her aunts a director at a consultancyshes getting me a job there. Her mum and brother live in *Liverpool*, run their own business. They send her parcels every monthsocks, pants, even *caviar*. Her flats small but done up proper, and they wire her pounds for bills. Oh, and theres a two-story cottage with a garden out in the Cotswolds. Weve been. Shes got *prospects*.»
«Fair enough,» Paul said slowly. «But do you even *love* her?»
«Course! Shes a laugh. And her roast dinners? *Brilliant*.»
The family exchanged glances. Hard to argue with that.
Not long after, they married.
When Emily found out she was pregnant, she was over the moon.
«Told Mark it was *his* fault! Three months with Vincent, and booma baby on the way!»
The little girl was born healthy, bringing joy to everyone. Once she turned six months, Emily and Vincent started leaving her with her grandparents on weekends while they retreated to the cottage. There was always workbig garden, orchard.
But Emily once confided in me that Vincent often dropped her off, then vanished back to London, claiming «odd jobs.» He always had cash. Paul and I would visit sometimes to help.
Time flewsoon, little *Rosie* turned three. They threw a party, the table laden with delicacies from their Liverpool relatives. The birthday girl wore designer clothes, gifts from her nan abroad. But all evening, Vincent kept slipping off to take calls. Emily glared every time.
«Vincent, *enough*! Who keeps ringing? Weve got *guests*!»
«Just work, love. Nothin to fuss over.» He wouldnt meet her eyes.
Two years passed. Vincent worked alongside Emily at the consultancyeasy job, good pay. Then he dropped a bombshell: they were all going to *Liverpool*.
«Her folks want to meet Rosieonly seen her on *Zoom*. Her mums been saving for *three years* to pay for the trip. And they *adore* me,» he bragged, smug as a cat with cream.
The trip was a triumph. Vincent couldnt stop gushing.
«Her mum wouldnt leave me alone! *Vinny this, Vinny that*. Fed me till I gained *half a stone*!»
«*Favourite son-in-law*,» Emily would say, ruffling his hair.
He dined out on those stories for months.
Then one Saturday, as I cleaned, the doorbell rang. My mother-in-law answered before I could.
I peered outa young woman stood there with two little girls.
*Charity collectors?* Too well-dressed. Five minutes of hushed talk, then the gate shut, and Mum returned, pale as a sheet.
«Who was that?»
«Just someone looking for a bloke,» she muttered before vanishing upstairs.
Later, I heard muffled arguing between her and Dad.
Then, one Sunday, Emily called.
«Paul, is Vincent there?»
«No?»
«Must be on his way home, then. Hows the tap? Fixed it? No flood?»
«What tap?»
«Yours! Vincent dashed over yesterdaysaid you rang in a panic, said a pipe burst.»
«Oh.» Paul stalled.
Silence. Then, flatly: «Right. Got it.»
Paul rang Vincent straight after.
«If youre spinning lies, at least *tell me*! Emily called, and I had no clue what youd fed her. She *knows* now. Where you weres your business, but how dyou plan to explain yourself to *her*?»
Mum overheard.
«Paul whats going on with Vincent and Emily?» She hesitated. «Last week, a woman*Lucy*, his old flameshowed up with two little girls. Said they were *his*. My *granddaughters*.» She burst into tears. «Hes been living a *double life*? If Emily finds out»
But she did. Kind souls made sure of it. Turned out, her doting husband had another woman*and two kids*all along.
«*This* is how you thank me? For the job, the *cottage*, the *car*, the trip? *Favourite son-in-law*? How am I supposed to tell my *mother*?» Emily screamed. «Pack your things and *go*! And find another jobIll make sure Auntie *fires* you by tomorrow!»
«Wherell I go, love? I *love* you»
«Youve got *another family*!»
«Lucys shacked up with some bloke now»
«*Your problem*,» she spat.
When Vincent slunk into his parents house later, bag in hand, Paul just thought, *What a fool. Threw it all away for a bit of fun. Now hes left with nothinglike the dog who dropped his bone for a shadow. Vincent stayed with his parents for a few nights, sleeping on the lumpy sofa, moving like a ghost through their kitchen in the mornings. He didnt speak much, just stared into his tea like it held answers. Then one day, the bag was gone. No note, no call.
A week later, Paul spotted him near the old taxi depotstanding at the corner, head down, hands shoved deep in his pockets, watching the place where Emily once laughed over birthday cake and bad jokes. He didnt wave. Neither did Paul.
And that was that.
