Love Me Till Wednesday

'Bastard!' shouted Lisa as she read the note she'd found on her doormat two minutes earlier. She'd had a tough day at work and now this.

'Who's a bastard?' her daughter, Elise, asked as she walked into the kitchen.

Lisa changed the subject. 'I thought you were stopping at Jordan's today.'

Elise shook her head. 'I changed my mind. I've still got some revision to do.'

'When's your last exam?'

'Tomorrow!'

'Probably advisable not to stay at Jordan's then.'

Elise and her boyfriend were still at the stage in their relationship where they could barely keep their hands off one another - useful for A-level Human Biology, maybe, but unfortunately, Elise was studying Maths and Economics.

Elise headed towards the fridge, glancing at the note en route. 'That looks like Dad's handwriting.'

'It is.' So much for hiding who she thought was a bastard. Lisa preferred to avoid slagging off her ex-husband in front of their children, but sometimes it was difficult.

'What's he done now?'

'Looks like he popped round while I was out to remind me I have to pay him for his share of this house when you go to uni in September.'

Elise didn't look surprised. 'But you've always known that.'

'Yes, but I was hoping I'd have had a pay rise or the property market would've crashed by now.'

Lisa had been playing for time two years ago when she'd persuaded Greg to defer taking his 20% share of her house. She'd had hardly any savings then and working only three days a week meant there was no way anyone would give her a mortgage to buy him out. Sadly, no one would lend her the money now, either. Despite returning to work full time, she'd been banging her head against a glass ceiling when it came to negotiating a pay rise, and house prices were still on the up.

'How much do you owe him?'

'I reckon a mere half a million.'

A ridiculous amount. Lisa had paid much less than that when she'd bought the house in 1992.

'Ouch. So we're moving then.'

'Looks like it, unless I win the lottery in the next three months.'

'I didn't know you bought lottery tickets,' Elise said as she grabbed a clean glass from the wall cupboard.

'I don't, but I better start now. It's so infuriating. It's not as if he needs the money, shacked up in Belgravia with Lady bloody Isabella.'

'Ah, well.' Elise looked uncomfortable as she got some water from the fridge dispenser.

'What do you mean?'

'He's not living with Isabella any more. She kicked him out.'

Lisa was shocked. Ever since Greg had packed his bags and walked out on her and the children on Boxing Day 2020, he and Isabella had frequently appeared in society blogs and magazines, draped lovingly around one another in various upmarket London locations. Lisa should have been thrilled to hear that the cheating arsehole was getting his comeuppance, but this was terrible timing. Typical Greg - she couldn't even rely on him to be faithful to the woman he claimed to love more than anything else on Earth, even his wretched gas-guzzling 1969 Chevrolet Camaro, which Isabella had made him replace with a conventional Chelsea tractor.

'When did he move out?'

'Last month. She found someone new to keep her warm in bed. I think it's the guy who designed her basement conversion.'

Lady Isabella obviously had a taste for men who worked on upgrading her house. She'd seduced Greg after she'd employed him as the architect for the yoga studio extension to her already massive mansion.

'Why didn't you tell me?'

'You're never keen on hearing his latest news. I didn't think it would matter. It's not as if you're going to take him back. I guess he needs the money because the flat he's renting in Shepherd's Bush is a shithole.'

So there was no hope that Greg would give Lisa more time to get the cash now. Not that it mattered. With the house's value continuing to rise faster than she could save, it would only delay the inevitable. Lisa looked around the kitchen as she tried to imagine cooking dinner somewhere else after thirty years of living at 39 Paradise Crescent.