What Becomes of the Broken Hearted Novel – THE WOMAN, THOUGHT Douglas Sanders, looked quite mad. Dark, unruly hair as if it hadn’t seen a brush in weeks, no jacket – despite it being a particularly cold night, and make-up which was now pouring down her face giving her the look of a sinister clown. As Douglas took in the sight of her, standing there on his doorstep, he thought she looked familiar, but he was glad to admit that the number of crazy women he knew was less than one. “Can I help you?” He asked, merely out of habit than genuinely offering his assistance with whatever this wild-eyed woman required. His eyes flicked to the clapped-out red metro she had brought to a screeching halt in his driveway, stopping precariously too close to his wife’s Volkswagen Polo. “Yes, I’ll have a glass of whatever you’re having,” the woman declared, before barging past him and into the hallway. Outraged at her rudeness, Douglas closed the door and turned to confront this stranger only to find her walking into the living room.
He rushed after her. “Sorry, who are you? What do you want?” God if she was about to reply with any sentence that included the word “dad”, Douglas would give up there and then. He’d always assumed that his hedonistic younger days would result in a visit from a hitherto unknown offspring of his. Though, no one had called thus far. Douglas leant against the mantelpiece, steeling himself as she opened her mouth to reply. “That jerk,” the woman spat, pacing the floor. She’d scooped up the bottle of wine from the coffee table, and took a large swig. Some of the red liquid dribbled onto her chin and then her top. It just added to the overall unhinged theme she seemed to be going for. ” I’m a jerk?” Douglas repeated, bemused at the accusation coming from a complete stranger. “What?” the woman said, screwing her face up. “Not you. Him!” Another swig of wine was imbibed, though no wine escaped her mouth this time. Douglas was getting quite sick of this now.
“I’m sorry, madam, but if you don’t explain yourself right now, I shall have to ask you to leave.” The woman took a deep breath then exhaled slowly. Good, at least she was calming down. She put down the bottle and looked directly at Douglas. “My husband is screwing your wife.” Well, whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. Douglas felt a huge sense of relief at this woman not being the fruit of his loins, before the enormity of her actual words hit him. “I beg your pardon?” He said, as if she had started speaking in tongues. “Your wife and my husband,” she said slowly, “are having an affair. I thought you should know.” “I’m sorry, but you come into my house – a total stranger – and tell me my wife is cheating on me?” “With my husband, yes. And we’re not strangers. Not totally. We’ve met, briefly. Your wife works in the same office as my husband, Ben.
I’m Alice. We were introduced at one of those boring drinks things.” “And do you have proof of this so-called affair? Conclusive photographs? A Signed confession, perhaps?” “You’re mocking me,” said Alice. “Can you blame me? It’s preposterous! Your husband may be cheating on you, but I can assure you my wife isn’t like that.” “Eve. Your wife’s name is Eve, isn’t it?” “Yes. So?” “So? So, I found a text from an Eve. In fact, I found several texts from Eve, some quite explicit. Not exactly words you’d send a mere colleague.” “Alright, what was the number?” asked Douglas. He’d rested his glass on the mantelpiece and stood, arms folded. “I mean, your husband gets flirting messages from another woman, you’re going to write down the number, aren’t you?” For the first time, she looked uncertain. “I… I didn’t have time. He almost caught me with his phone. I didn’t have time to write it down.” “So, this Eve woman could be anyone,” said Douglas, now feeling embarrassment and pity for this sad young woman. “I mean, the name isn’t exclusive to my wife. It’s been around for quite a while.
Mentioned in the bible, in fact.” “I know it’s her. I know it’s your wife.” “Just… leave, before you embarrass yourself any further,” said Douglas, ready to show her out. “Where did she say she’ll be, tonight?” Alice asked. “‘Out with girlfriends? Working late at the office?” “Not that it’s anything to do with you, but she is working late. She’s been managing a large project and it’s near completion.” “How convenient. That was his excuse, too.” “Just get out, before I call the police.” Chapter 2 “Call her,” said Alice. “Go on. Call her, but call her work number not her mobile. If she really is at the office, she’ll answer.” “I don’t have to -” began Douglas, incensed. “If you think she’s the innocent party here, then there’s no harm in ringing her, is there?” Douglas wanted nothing more than to get rid of this deluded cow. Glaring at her, he went to get his phone from the kitchen and returned, flicking through the Contacts list until he found EVE – WORK. “You’ll owe me – and my wife – an apology in a second,” Douglas told Alice as he heard the dialling tone. Alice just folded her arms in response.
Relief washed over Douglas as the call was answered and the velvety voice of Eve spoke. “Douglas, what’s wrong? I told you I was working late.” “Oh, it’s nothing, sweetheart.” Doulas stuck his fingers up at Alice as he spoke. She looked surprised. “I just wanted to know if you’d want something to eat when you got home.” “She’ll be full from all the shaft she’s had in her mouth!” Alice shouted, having strode over to Douglas and attempted to wrestle the phone from him. “Get off, you demented lunatic,” Douglas hissed, pushing the woman away. “Douglas, who is that?” Eve said sharply. “It’s alright, darling. It’s nothing. I’ll see you when you get back. Bye-bye.” He hung up and gave Alice a smug look. “I think I’m ready to hear that apology now.” Alice glared back at him. “You think just because she’s at her office, she’s not shagging my husband? “I obviously have more faith in my spouse than you do in yours. Just because your husband can’t keep it in his trousers, there’s no need to go around accusing random people of being the same.” Alice shook her head.
“You’re pathetic, you know that? You’re a doormat. No, you’re worse than that. You’re a scrap of tarmac. At least with a doormat, it’s occasionally cleaned and cared for. You? You’re just something to be walked over and forgotten about.” Tarmac? Well that was a new one. “Right, I’m calling the police.” Douglas held the phone aloft. “Fine. Obviously, there’s no getting through to you,” Alice said. “But once you realise the truth, give me a call.” She grabbed a pen from the coffee table where Douglas had been filling in his tax returns earlier and scribbled on the edge of a form. “If only for me to tell you I told you so.” “Nah, I don’t think I’ll need to, thanks,” said Douglas, but she finished writing the number, nonetheless. Eventually, she left. Douglas watched from beyond the curtain in the living room as she reversed the red metro out of the driveway and drove off. Hopefully that was the last Douglas would see of her. He settled back down on the sofa with his glass, refilling it. Had the past ten minutes been a dream? How ridiculous to think Eve was having an affair solely based on texts written by someone with the same name. He wondered if the woman’s husband was even having an affair.
Or was there even a husband? Perhaps the lunatic had made him up, too. He used the remote control to switch on the digital radio system and listened as Radio 3 blasted out a vigorous concerto. Classical music normally relaxed him, but that evening his thoughts could only drift back to Alice and her accusations. Now he thought of it, there was a colleague of Eve’s called Ben. And Douglas was sure he had met him. Yes, a couple of times when Douglas had met Eve after work. Usually, Ben was leaving the same time as Eve, so they often appeared outside the building together, chatting amicably. That didn’t mean they were having an affair. Christ, if the sole requirement for having an affair was talking to an attractive colleague, Douglas was a serial adulterer. Ben. Ben. Ah yes. A little on the short side, probably five foot six or thereabouts. Black hair styled into the latest, edgiest ‘do. A bit smarmy, smug. Up himself, really. An eye for the ladies.
He remembered back to the party Alice had mentioned – though he had no recollection of meeting her – and noticing Ben’s gaze falling on all the attractive women in the room, including Eve. Oh yes, he remembered the ogling. He’d even mentioned it to Eve in the taxi home, but she had laughed it off and said “it’s just Ben being Ben”, as if that settled the matter. Eve returned home just gone 11pm. Douglas was in the kitchen, making himself some french toast. He’d been tormented over whether or not to tell Eve about Alice’s visit. They could laugh about it over the toast, but Eve would be tired after a long day at work. Maybe he didn’t need to bother her with such nonsense. He heard his wife head upstairs, a ritual she did every night where she would change into her pyjamas before coming back down for a glass of wine.
Douglas had the wine waiting for her on the kitchen island. “What a day,” Eve said, sitting down on a stool and taking a hearty swig of the red wine. “At least you’re home now,” Douglas said soothingly, reaching across and smooching her on the forehead. “Toast?” Eve shook her head. “I’ve already eaten.” Despite himself, Alice’s rant on the phone came to mind. That bloody woman! Eve watched Douglas finish the toast and then picked up her glass again. “So, who was the shouty woman on the phone?” Douglas paused for a second. He was hoping she’d forgot about that. He put the toast on a plate and sat down opposite her. “She was some insane woman who ridiculously thinks her husband is having an affair with you.” “With me?” Eve said, eyes wide.