“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about. He’s a honey.”

“Jolene, how many times? Shush!”

Jeff looked from me to Tim and back again. “Did you say something…?”

“Hi, Marnie. Who’s your friend?” Tim held out his hand to Jeff, who swatted it away.

“I’m not a friend - I’m her husband,” Jeff snapped. “And who the hell are you?”

“Jeff is my soon to be ex-husband,” I said, smiling pleasantly.

The woman strolled up then with Elvis dancing beside her, and slipped her arm through Tim’s. “You must be Marnie,” she purred. “Still up for that threesome?”

Jeff’s mouth fell open.

“Behave,” Tim said to his companion.

“Hi, Pippa.” I nodded to her. “I see Elvis likes you.”

“He’s adorable, darling.” Pippa reached down and scratched Elvis’s ear. “I might steal him.”

“Be my guest,” Jeff said.

“Marnie,” Tim said. “I know things didn’t work out between us, but we can stay friends. I’d like that.” He was doing ‘sincere and regretful’, and I suddenly wondered who the real Tim Benedict was or if the man spent his life re-enacting different character parts. Maybe he’d be Julius Caesar next.

“Have you slept with this guy?” Jeff turned a shocked face to me.

“That’s none of your business,” I said.

Suddenly, Elvis swivelled around, yelped again, and raced for the gate, and everyone turned and watched Paul open it and step into the garden. My heartbeat raced. Paul walked up the path and stood beside Pippa, and she blew him a kiss.

“Oh, my, another hottie.”

“Jolene, for the love of God…!”

“Huh?” Jeff’s head whipped back and forth between Pippa and me, like a spectator at Wimbledon trying to see both sides of the court. “Who…?”

“Marnie,” Paul said. “Tim, hi.”

“Hi, Paul.” Tim nodded.

“I’m Pippa.” Pippa blew Paul another kiss.

“I’m Jeff, Marnie’s husband, if anyone’s interested,” Jeff burst out, then glared at me. “Have you had him as well?”

“Hey,” Paul said. “Treat Marnie with respect.”

“It’s fine, Paul,” I said before a fight broke out and Mr Simpkins heard and called the police – or produced a gun and shot Jeff. Either scenario seemed plausible. “My soon-to-be-ex will be leaving shortly.”

Jeff looked like he wanted to argue but thought better of it. Instead, he seethed and looked daggers at Tim and Paul.

I kept my voice steady and calm and addressed my husband. “It’s a bit hypocritical, don’t you think, Jeff? Asking about my love life after you left me for a girl young enough to be your daughter. Oh, but wait, she couldn’t be, could she? You’d had a vasectomy.” I smiled. “Despite this, you insisted we try for a family. Then, when it didn’t happen, you told me the doctor gave you a clean bill of health, and it was my fault.”

Everyone looked at Jeff, and he turned as red as Pippa’s hair.

An awkward silence fell around us until Paul cleared his throat and asked, “Is it seven o’clock for Elvis’s party?”

My heart bounced around my ribcage again.

“Yes,” I said and then stalled, scared to question him further. Was he planning to come – and did he remember the attached condition?

“Elvis is having a party?” Pippa beamed at me. “Why?”

“It’s his birthday,” I said. “He’s three.”

“Oh, I love birthday parties.” Pippa gazed at Tim. “We could bring a cake. We don’t need to head back to London until tomorrow, darling, do we?”

“No,” Tim said. “We’d be delighted to come.”

“Oh,” I said. “Yes. Right.”

How had that happened? I reeled my thoughts together, but before I could come up with a reason for their non-attendance, Tim said, “We’ll be back at seven.” He stepped forward, leaned past Jeff and kissed me on the lips.

Pippa giggled. Then she sprang forward, grasped my face in her hands and gave me another smacker.

Jeff’s face was a study.

Paul hesitated, and then moved forward and landed a third kiss. “Will you be okay with this idiot?” He jerked his head at my husband.

“Hey…!” Jeff started to protest, then caught Paul’s eye and fell silent.

“I’ll be fine,” I said.

“Great, speak soon, then.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Paul, Tim and Pippa left, and Paul walked down the hill towards the prom, while Tim and Pippa got back into the Land Rover. It started up; they waved goodbye and were gone.

Jeff turned slowly towards me. “Who are you?” he said. “Is there a Marnie-sized pod in the house somewhere?”

“I’m the wife you never knew you had.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

“Jolene…!”

Jeff stepped outside the porch, scanned the garden, then returned to his former position. “Can you hear voices?”

“You’re hearing voices? Definitely call the doctor, Jeff.” I took a deep breath. “Here’s the deal. I want a divorce, so email me your address, and I’ll send the papers.”

“What? No, Marnie, you don’t mean this.”

“You left me for another woman. You’ve been seeing her for three months and living with her in a caravan for the last fortnight. I’ve had enough.”

“Nicola was a mistake, Marnie. If I could turn the clock back, I’d never have gotten involved. She has…mental health issues.”

“Really?”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“Yes. Nicola thinks she’s a spy.”

“Because you told her you were David Cornwell and you’d recruit her for the CIA.”

“No, no, I…I didn’t.”

“I met her, too, Jeff.” I smiled and nodded. “Nicola came here on her mission.”

“Her mission…what the hell are you on about?”

“Well, you should know. You sent her.”

Jeff studied my face. “Nicola came to the house?”

“Yes. She was good, too. She got past me into the living room, pretended to be pregnant, and side-tracked me so she could steal your passport.”

“Huh…?” Jeff looked like he’d had a stroke. “My…she took my passport?”

Now it was my turn to study Jeff. “You didn’t send her here?”

“No,” he said, his voice faint. He slumped against the porch wall and stared out into the garden. “Nicola asked me about the cottage, how it’s furnished, stuff like that, and I thought she was just interested in interior design.”

“And you told her I was your handler.”

“Well, I couldn’t tell her you were my wife, could I?” Jeff suddenly realised this didn’t sound as reasonable as he’d hoped. He changed tack, and his tone became wheedling again. “I should never have done this to you, Marnie. I thought I’d deleted those e-mails, and I’m an idiot like that guy said.”

“He’s called Paul, and, yes, you are an idiot. But so am I.” Jeff looked hopeful, but then his face fell as I continued. “I’m an idiot for believing you all these years. This isn’t the first time you’ve been unfaithful – and please don’t deny it.”

I waited and watched Jeff try to figure out his next move. He looked tired and drawn, and he’d lost weight; maybe he wasn’t buying enough food. At that thought, several pieces of the jigsaw fell into place. “You’re back because you’ve run out of money.”

“Oh, well, I had the lottery win, but that didn’t go far over three months.” Jeff sounded defeated, and I lobbed my last shot.

“I’m guessing Nicola’s left you, now. She took your passport as some kind of revenge?”

“No.” Jeff’s shoulders slumped. “We were supposed to be leaving the country together. At least, I told her that when we first got together, and I was only trying to….”

“Look good? Better than you are? More exciting?”

“All of the above.” Jeff looked at me, his expression hangdog. “I tried to break it off with Nicola, but she won’t let me. She’s insisting we go abroad and start a new life as spies. She’s nuts.”

“I think you’re well-suited. Where is Nicola now?”

“I don’t know. She turned the tables on me, left the caravan and called me on a throwaway phone. Told me she’d be in touch and we’d meet at a ferry and cross to France or Holland. That’s why she stole my passport and the couple of thousand I had left – so I’d have to go with her.”

“Have you tried her parents’ house?”

“Where’s that?”

“Twelve Manor Road, Lufton.” I nodded. “I’ve been there too.” Then I took a deep breath and became calm and business-like. “I am divorcing you, Jeff, and I have a solicitor who will send you the papers. If there’s nothing else, I have a party to organise.” With more guests than I’d intended. Would one hedgehog be enough?

Jeff stared at me for a long moment, and then his features twisted. “Fine,” he snapped. “Divorce me if you want. Actually, I can’t wait. But I have rights, too, y’know.”

“You think?” I kept my voice steady and my face expressionless. “You walked out on me. And you hid your lottery win.”

A slow smile spread across Jeff’s face. “You can take three grand, two hundred and twenty-five quid off my share of this place.” I swallowed, blinked, and his smile widened. “You’re not the only one with a solicitor, Marnie. I’m entitled to half the market value.”

“No, you’re not! No! Hold me up, Marnie, hold me up!”

“What the hell…?” Jeff leapt back and then saw my phone. “Huh…?”

I held the mobile out, and Jeff leant forward and peered at the screen. “Oh, it’s you. Who’s your friend?”

“I’m Jolene and I don’t like you.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” Jeff sneered at the phone. “What were you shouting about, old woman?”

Gran’s voice rang out loud and clear across the Atlantic. “Lilac Cottage is in my name. You don’t get a penny.”

“Nice try.” Jeff laughed. “But I know you signed the house over to Marnie, and I signed as a witness, remember?”

I turned the phone towards me. “It’s okay, Gran.” I tried to keep my voice light. “I appreciate your trying, but I’ll think of something.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Gran’s face was anguished. “The house deeds are still in my name – you can check at my solicitor’s.”

“But I signed the papers.” I frowned at the screen. “Jeff was there, too, and he counter-signed.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Jeff said. He looked at me and rolled his eyes. “The old bat’s as mad as bloody Nicola.”

“Less of the ‘old’ you stinkin’ son-of-a-bitch.”

“Jolene, please.”

“Gran, I don’t understand,” I said, in what felt like the understatement of the year. “What did I sign?”

Gran hesitated and then said, “A rental lease.”

“What?” Jeff sprang forward and grabbed the phone. “You’re lying.”

I snatched it back. “Gran?” I held the mobile out so Jeff and I could see the screen. “What are you saying?”

“I’m sorry I misled you, Marnie. You signed a lease agreeing that you and that husband of yours would pay me one thousand pounds a month for rent.” She gulped. “You haven’t paid me anything, so you owe me a lot. And as for you?” She pointed at Jeff. “You’re liable for half.”

There was a long, painful silence. I couldn’t believe what I’d heard, and judging by Jeff’s pallor, neither could he. I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or angry I’d been duped.

I glanced at my phone again, and Gran winked at me. Jolene held her thumbs up. My mouth twitched in a grin, and the warrior princess reappeared.

“Before I forget, Jeff.” I turned, grabbed the bin bags and lobbed them onto the porch. “These are the rest of your clothes. Contact me through your solicitor if there’s anything else you want to negotiate. Or, I could go back to some of your old bosses and find out what you stole from them. After that, I may feel obliged to involve the police. Have a nice day. Oh, and by the way, you are definitely not invited to Elvis’s party.”

Jeff looked at me, opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He picked up the bin bags, staggered down the path, and Elvis dived after him and jumped playfully at the bags, ripping one open. Jeff’s blue and white Y-fronts fell out, and Elvis pounced, grabbed the underwear, and ran around the garden.

Jeff carried on through the gate and turned left. I heard his car door open and close, the engine started, and then he drove past, taking the time to turn my way, sneer and flash me a two-fingered salute. I waved cheerfully back.

“Elvis, come on in.” I stood aside as Elvis thundered through the front door, still carrying his prize. He worried the underpants for a few moments and then dumped them at my feet. “Thanks.” I picked them up. “I might frame these.”

“Marnie.” Gran’s voice hailed me from the phone. I held it up, looked at the screen, and she smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry I did that, but I had a feeling something like this might happen.”

“You mean you sussed Jeff out long before I did.”

“I was never going to charge you rent. You can stay there as long as you like and the place is yours after I’m gone. I’m sorry I lied to you.”

“That’s okay, and thanks. I’ll stay here forever if I can – I love it.”

Gran beamed. “I’m so glad you’re getting rid of that…that….” She tailed off, stuck for words.

“I can think of plenty names,” Jolene said. “But I’d have to wash my mouth out with soap afterwards.”

I laughed. “I’m with you, Jolene. And thanks again, Gran, for the laptop and…for everything.”

“You’re very welcome. Now, we should get going on that walk.”

“And the cocktails,” Jolene said. “Bye, for now, Marnie.”

“Bye-bye.” I waved at the screen until they vanished. Then I turned to Elvis and blew out air. “Some birthday this is turning out to be.”

Elvis disagreed. He thought it was the best day ever: new people to play with, fresh underpants and a squeaky plastic chop. Did birthdays get any better?

I wandered into the living room and slumped on the settee, and Elvis jumped up beside me. “What on earth just happened…?” I asked, and Elvis shuffled around and flopped onto my lap. “Oof. No, I’m fine, really, don’t worry. Breathing’s over-rated, anyway.”

Then my mobile rang, showing an unknown number.

“It can’t be Tim this time.” Elvis cocked his head. “Probably a sales call.” I debated ignoring it but decided to chance it and see. “Hello?”

“Oh, hello.” The voice sounded vaguely familiar. “Is that, um, you’re married to Jeffrey?”

“I’m Marnie Hope.” I tried to place the caller. “Who is this?”

“I’m his…we met at the hotel.”

“Oh.” The penny dropped. “Mrs Hope.”

“Irene, please.”

“Right, yes, Irene.” I faltered under her awkwardly-friendly tone. “Can I help you?”

“I just, I mean, we wondered if you’d heard anything.”

“From Jeff?”

“Well, yes. My husband and I talked and decided it’s unfair to leave you with all the responsibility for our…for Jeffrey. If we can help in any way, please let us know.”

Well, wonders would never bloody cease.

“Jeff turned up today, I told him I’m divorcing him, and he left again.”

“Oh, good.” Irene Hope’s voice lightened. “And how is Elvis?”

“He’s fine.” I wavered under the sudden change of subject and tone. “In fact, it’s his birthday today; he’s three years old.”

“Oh, how lovely. Are you having a party?”

“Yes, I am.” I wondered at Jeff’s mother being the first person to assume a party was inevitable. “It’s tonight at seven.”

“Oh, well, we’d love to come. Thank you. Can we bring Seamus?”

“What?” Jesus, I’d done it again. “Who’s Seamus?”

“We rescued a Cockapoo. He’s ten months old and absolutely adorable. He loves other dogs, and I think he’d get on like a house on fire with Elvis. What’s your address?”

I swallowed. “Lilac Cottage, 5 Hill Street, Dexter Bay.”

“We’ll be there at seven. Goodbye,”

“Bye,” I said faintly. Then I leant back, pondered the past hour's events, and my thoughts whirled in panic. I called Sue.

“Hey, how’s the Birthday Boy? Is he ready for his party?”

“Um,” I said. “Er…there’s…it was…I mean…”

“You been at the wine already?”

“Jeff came back. I seem to have invited loads of people to Elvis’s party. What’s the collective noun for hedgehogs? Because I need more.”

“What? Jeff came back?”

“Yeah, but he’s gone again, and I don’t own the house. Plus, there aren’t enough hedgehogs.”

“I’m coming over.”

“Hedgehogs! Can you bring some?”

“Will you stop banging on about bloody hedgehogs? See you in five.”