Free Run, Mummy, Run by Cathy Glass

someone?’ she said slowly. ‘For five years? So you were married really, only without the piece of paper.’
    He laughed, cynical and biting. ‘There! I knew you wouldn’t understand. How could you, with your upbringing?’
    She was quiet, feeling the accusation, the condemnation of her culture and naivety. ‘I don’t think I have ever judged you, Mark,’ she said quietly.
    ‘Until now!’
    She turned away and looked through the windscreen, concentrating on the darkening skyline as the sun continued its descent. ‘So what’s changed?’ she asked after a moment. ‘Why tell me now?’
    He sighed. ‘Your passion. It made me realize how far our relationship had come. I knew I couldn’t continue without you knowing. I’m sorry, I don’t expect you to understand. I’ll take you home.’
    ‘No!’ she cried, panicking at the finality of what he’d said. ‘If you try talking to me instead of shutting me out, I might. I can’t possibly understand anything unless you tell me, Mark.’
    He flexed his shoulders and looked around as though scouring the air for the right words. Releasing the wheel, he sat back and took a deep breath. Aisha looked ahead and tried to calm the nausea rising in her throat.
    ‘When my marriage to Angela ended I moved out, as you know,’ he said in a dead-beat voice. ‘I lived alone in a rented bedsit. It was squalid, but it was all I could afford what with having to pay maintenance. I was alone, with nothing to think about but the children and what I’d lost. I became very depressed. I couldn’t see any point in anything anymore. I know that must seem strange to you, seeing the person I am now. I really had reached rock bottom. Then I met Christine. She was younger than me and full of energy and fun. She picked me up and brushed me down, gave me a new lease of life. I didn’t stop to consider what I was doing, I was just grateful for her company. Within a few months, we had set up home together, and it was only then I found out.’
    He paused, but Aisha didn’t say anything, she looked ahead and waited for him to continue.
    ‘Christine was fun all right, the life and soul of the party, but she needed a drink to do it. In fact, she needed a drink for everything – she was an alcoholic. I’d had my suspicions early on but I hadn’t realized the implications until we’d been together for nearly two years. She was very clever at hiding it; they are, alcoholics. I enjoy a drink as much as the next person, but I’d never known anyone dependent on it like she was. It was a drug to her. The most important thing in the world. She used to live for the next drink. When I finally realized, I confronted her and there was a dreadful scene. She accused me of spying on her, but I was only trying to help. From then on it went from bad to worse. She no longer hid her drinking and drank openly, all the time. She lost her job, then didn’t have to sober up at all. She began staying in bed, just getting up to go out for more booze. I threw the bottles away, time and time again, but that always led to another ugly scene. She paid with her credit card; it didn’t bother her that she couldn’t afford it. I would come home from work to find her drunk or unconscious and lying in a pool of vomit.
    ‘I stood it for as long as I could and I tried to help, believe me, I did. I didn’t want another relationship to fail. Then, one night, she wasn’t there when I came home from work. I was relieved to begin with, but when it got to midnight I started to worry. I thought she could be unconscious somewhere, in a gutter, freezing to death. I didn’t know where to look so I sat up all night, waiting. She finally staggered in at four o’clock in the morning, completely paralytic. God knows where she’d been; she looked dreadful and stank of piss.’
    He paused for a moment, struggling to find the words.
    ‘She wanted sex. We hadn’t made love for months; I hadn’t wanted to, not in the state she was in.