49
Christie passed reception the following morning to collect the post. As she sorted through the various envelopes one made her stop dead in her tracks. She’d recognise that neat, small handwriting anywhere. It was Stephen’s. Her mouth went dry and her hand trembled a little opening it. She was alone on reception, but didn’t want to run the risk of someone passing by and witnessing her reading a letter which, her gut feeling told her, wasn’t going to be good news. Instead she hastily made it to her room. All the while her heart was beating fast in anticipation.
It had been five months since Christie had last had contact with Stephen. It seemed a lifetime ago now – so much had happened in that space of time. Sitting on the bed she took out the letter and forced herself to stay calm. After momentarily closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she read it.
Dear Christie,
I hope this letter finds you well. I know it may come as a surprise – me writing to you like this. I often think about you and how you’re doing there in The Templar.
Christie, I’m sorry for the way things ended between us, but I really didn’t have a choice, and I still don’t. You see, Sophie is due to have the baby next month and with her not working, money’s tight. Very tight. There’s no way of saying this gently, but I need my share of the pub. I know I said you should go for it, but the reality is, I can’t afford to let you have it all. The Templar is half mine, well in name anyway, and I need my share back.
I’m so sorry to do this to you, Christie, but I’m desperate for the cash and I have a family to think of now. I hope you understand. Perhaps it’s time to finalise things between us. I’ve taken advice from my solicitor, who says the quickest way to divorce would be for you to start proceedings and file for one under the grounds of my adultery. I’ve enclosed details of the solicitors for you to liaise with.
I know you’re living your dream, Christie, and I’m sure you’re doing a fantastic job, but please understand my predicament. If you could let my solicitor know when I can expect the finances to be sorted out, that would be helpful. At least that way I can make plans.
Very best,
Stephen.
She stared at the letter, numb with shock. On refection, something like this was always in the pipeline, but to have it now, delivered to her like this, shook her to the core. So, Stephen wanted out. Well, he was never really in, was he? Even so, it angered her the way he still called all the shots. It washimwho decided to go, after getting the girl in the office pregnant, and nowhewas deciding to pull the rug from under her feet and claim half of The Templar – so much for the contract he’d promised.
The divorce he was welcome to, she thought bitterly, and yes she would file for one, stating his adultery. He could fucking well pay for it too. She was damned if she was going to put a penny towards the costs. As for “the finances to be sorted out” he could wait. If he thought she was going to rush and come up with the coffers (though God knows how) he had another think coming. How on earth could she afford to buy him out? He must know it was impossible. They’d borrowed to the max as it was. He obviously assumed she’d sell and move on. Never.
Christie gripped the letter and only just resisted tearing it up. After months of hard slog and bonding with all the staff and locals, gradually putting her stamp on the place and making it her own, her dickhead of a husband was about to take it all away from her. The bastard. Yet despite all the injustices, common sense told her he could, because as unfair as it seemed, it was still technically half his. Did she really expect him to give his share for good? Deep down Christie had known it was too good to be true, and that it had been his guilt talking. Another thing he’d done for himself, easing his guilty conscience by letting her go and fulfil her dream, taking his share of the money.
At the time she’d been happy to do it, just relieved that she could still go, however daunting it seemed. Now though, reality was kicking in and Stephen couldn’t afford to appease his shame any longer – a girlfriend and a baby needed paying for. She pictured him now, excited about becoming a father. That really pissed her off the most, especially after the way he had reacted when it became apparent why they couldn’t conceive. Oh, nothing to do with him, all Christie’s fault – well look how he had soon knocked Sophie up!
She was furious. Why had everything gone right for him and not her? Spitefully, she didn’t want him to have a son, who would play rugby just like him, father and son together. No, let him have a daughter who ran rings round him. Then she laughed at her own childishness. Did it really matter? They’d both moved on. She thought of Daniel and Emily and her shoulders relaxed. No, the real issue here was money and how she could manage to keep The Templar. The thought of having to let it go filled her with remorse. And what would she do? Where would she go? The whole scenario sickened her. It wassounfair. Tears of anger and frustration ran down her face.
Later that evening when the bar was slowly emptying, Christie approached Dermot.
‘Can I have a word please?’
‘Sure.’ He motioned towards a table in the alcove.
Christie passed him the letter. ‘Dermot, I got this from Stephen this morning. Read it please.’
Dermot’s eyes darted over the handwriting. He handed it back with a serious look. ‘Do you have the funds to buy him out, Christie?’ he quietly asked.
Christie suspected he already knew the answer. ‘No,’ she replied, then gave a big sigh. ‘I don’t know what to do.’
‘Doesn’t look like you have much choice.’ Dermot looked sympathetically into her eyes. ‘I’m so sorry,’ then he added, ‘Is there no one else who could help out?’
‘My parents you mean? I don’t think they have that kind of money and I wouldn’t want to ask them. They’re retired now.’
Tell me about it, thought Dermot. Would he ever feel free to leave The Templar? Finula’s wedding, Daniel’s situation and now this. Without wanting to appear too harsh, he really was ready to leave and put his feet up. He wasn’t getting any younger, after all, and he had already stayed longer than he had planned.
‘Sometimes, Christie, things happen for a reason. Would you always want to be in Stephen’s pocket? Knowing he could pull the plug on you at any time?’
‘You mean like he just has?’ she replied flatly.
‘Better now than in a few years… when perhaps you’re more involved…’ He struggled with the words.
Christie sighed again, utterly defeated.
‘What am I going to do, Dermot?’ she asked weakly.
Dermot patted her shoulder. ‘Just take your time and give it some thought, Christie.’
