Matthew was sitting across the aisle, grinning to himself. I caught that smug grin out of the corner of my eye and clenched my hands on my stomach even tighter. He was celebrating a win alreadyleaned back in his chair, one leg over the other, nodding at his solicitor. As if I no longer existed.
The judge was flipping through the files. Matthews solicitor rustled papers and spoke in that calm, steady tone:
The house was built with my clients funds prior to the marriage. All documentation confirms this.
Simon Edwardsold, grey and heavy-browedwatched him without expression.
Hed been a friend of my late father-in-law, had taken the case almost for nothing. Didnt say much, but when he did, everyone listened.
Seven years of marriage is documentation too, he said curtly.
The solicitor just shrugged.
My client believes the marriage was entered into for financial gain.
My heart twisted. Matthew stared out the window. I tried to meet his eyes but he looked away, as though I wasnt even there.
Just half a year ago he would rest his palm on my bump and whisper, Soon therell be three of us. He drove me to appointments, browsed prams late into the night. Then he paid a visit up north to see someone called Victor. Came back a stranger. In two weeks he changed the locks and threw me out. Nearly eight months pregnant.
Simon had looked at me, incredulous:
He just up and left you? Matthew?
He simply shut the door.
Hed drummed his fingers on the table, frowning. Then, after a few calls, he came back the next day:
Victor. His dad once kicked Victor off the estate for nicking tools. Now hes come back for revenge. Promised Matthew new contracts if he got rid of you. So all the inheritance ends up his alone.
I sat there in silence, unable to believe it.
Matthew agreed?
Simon nodded grimly.
Im afraid so.
The judge looked up:
Any further evidence from the defense?
Matthews solicitor spread his hands.
All submitted. Nothing more required.
A quick, sharp smile from Matthew.
And then the door creaked open.
An older chap came in, battered jacket, heavy bag on his shoulder. Weathered face, hands broad and calloused. He looked around the courtroom and nodded to Simon.
Matthew stiffened. All the colour drained from his face.
Who on earth is that? he hissed to his solicitor.
Simon stood.
Your Honour, a witness for the defence. Nicholas Ford, supply clerk at the estate. Hes kept the books for thirty years. He can verify certain details.
Nicholas pulled out a thick, dog-eared ledger. Old-fashioned stock booknobody keeps those now, everythings on computers. But hed kept the old notes.
Its all here, he said, flipping to the right page. Deliveries, invoices, signatures. Matthew made regular trips to see Victor, signing papers every time. Habit, I wrote it all down.
Matthew shot up from his chair.
And whats that got to do with anything?
Simon calmly drew some pages from his folder:
The most direct connection. Among these is a signed statement. By your client.
He let his words hang in the air.
In it, Matthew agrees to evict his wife before the child is bornin exchange for a share of business profits with Victor. Nicholas found the copy in the estates old records.
Silence, heavy as lead. The judge held out her hand. Matthews solicitor grabbed the papers, scanned them quickly, paled.
Matthew, is this true?
He stood there, fists clenched. His neck blotched red. He looked at Nicholas, Simon, then at me. Then he covered his face with his hands.
Victor said hed ruin me, his voice barely above a whisper. Take everything Dad left. Drag it all through the courts, claim Dad owed him money. He had contacts, lawyers… Promised a cut of the business if I if I just got rid of her.
He spoke to the floor, muffled through his hands.
I thought it was the only way. That I was saving the family business. That afterwards somehow
I stared at him, unrecognising. Seven yearsshared bed, shared breakfasts, shared dreams. And now hed sold me out for an easy ride on someone elses empty promises.
The judge laid down the file:
Thatll do. The case will be reconsidered with these new facts.
A month later, the decision arrived. The house was mine. A share in the family business too. Victor vanished from the cityseems there were other unsavoury dealings. Matthew lost his partners. His shops started shutteringword travels fast in our town.
I gave birth in early spring. Little Max, red and strong, tiny fists clenched tight. I lay there in the ward staring at himthis scrap of life that had nearly lost his roof above his head.
Matthew turned up at the hospital, standing awkwardly by the door with a bag of baby things. I saw him through the glassshoulders slouched, coat too big now, looking old. I didnt go down.
Now he comes by every Saturday. Waits at the gate. Hands over a bag of groceries, asks to hold his son. I let himfive minutes. He lifts Max gently and looks at him as if searching for the right words. Says nothing.
I never let him past the gate. The doors firmly shutby my hand. The keys are mine now.
Once he asked,
Could I just play with him in the garden? Half an hour?
I looked at him for a long time, then shook my head:
No. Not now. Maybe, somedaywhen I truly believe youve changed. For nowfive minutes. And thats generous.
He nodded, looking at his shoes, gave Max back, then trudged away to his car. I watched him gonot with anger, not even sympathy, just emptiness.
Max snuffled in his pram. I tucked his blanket tighter. The lights glowed from insidemy house now. I pushed the gate open and walked in, never looking back.
Lesson learned: sometimes the ones you trust most are the ones who end up teaching you how to live on your own.
