I was busily packing for our holiday to Canada the next day, feeling mildly cross that Jane was out playing cricket, when I came across a bag of women’s clothes at the back of her wardrobe.
It wasn’t until eight years into our marriage, in 1995, that a bombshell hit me. At my age, I felt it was too late to have children of my own and teaching at the secondary school fulfilled me anyway. She already had two children – a boy and a girl – from her previous marriage. She loved socialising like me and was also keen to travel the world.Įight months later, when I was 40, we got married. When Jane split up with her wife two years later, in 1987, we got together. Jane, by comparison, was gentle and kind. I was 38 and had recently separated from my husband after 18 years of marriage, because of his difficult moods. With hindsight, that was my only possible clue. She wore smart suits and I remember noticing her neatly manicured nails. Even though she – as I now call her – was married, we got on so well we started going to the pub together as friends.
