Part 21-I audition for Oliver! -the X-rated version....

Well, as you may have imagined, the interview went Badly. And yes, that is with a Capitol B!

Not only did I look like I was auditioning for a part in 'Oliver! the musical' the X-rated version, but I also hadn't had time to practise my interview skills and came across like a complete air-head. I had hardly slept on Thursday night with the upset of knowing I had ruined a perfect interview outfit and in my knackered state I fluffed the answers to most of the questions, and I know the MD didn't take me seriously...how could he when he was able to see right down my top when he stood up to shake my hand? Disaster!

Mind you Naughty Nigel seemed well chuffed with my chosen outfit and was certainly more interested in my chest than he was in my answers to his questions. And not only him, no. The new important guy (who, even in my state of mourning, could be described as nothing but a HOTTIE) seemed pretty interested in what was down there too! I caught him checking me out on more than one occasion. I guess I still have it! Even dressed like a street urchin!
And though he is obviously way out of my league I did feel my pulse quicken slightly every time he asked me anything! He was really hansome-in a swoony James Bond kind of way-but boy did he know it! I couldn't help myself wondering what doing overtime might be like under him!
But I managed to stop myself quickly-fancying other blokes just doesn't seem right somehow. Not yet anyway.

But enough about the disasterous interview (and the fact that I've spent the whole weekend wondering where I'll live when Mark makes me sell my house-amongst other things) I need to talk about something else. Something that I've been trying hard not to think about but can avoid no longer.

Lola is dating a married man!

And I'm so unbelievably angry with her!

I guessed on Thursday night when I was in the pub with her and Matt-hence the shock causing me to spill my drink and ruin my life (again)! Suddenly it all made sense: why she'd kept him a secret for so long, why they saw each other at such random times and why she couldn't say no to him when he had a free evening (even when her best mate needed her urgently).

She didn't want me to know he was married because she knew I wouldn't approve. How can I? After what Mark has done to me how could I condone Lola doing the same thing to someone else? It's just all so wrong. Why can't people just leave married people alone and find someone single to fancy instead?

Funny though, but a couple of months ago and I probably wouldn't have cared all that much. I would have been worried for Lola, sure, in case she got hurt. But I wouldn't have given Matt's wife (who I will probably never meet-let's face it) a second thought. Now, my perspective has changed totally and I can't help seeing Lola the way I see Mark's bit on the side-a tramp! A scarlet woman! A complete slag!

Even though I know she really isn't.

She called me, Lola, after my interview on Friday. But I didn't answer. I couldn't speak to her. She tried again on Saturday but again I ignored her. Then, on Sunday evening, after a whole weekend of feeling miserable and desperately lonely I called her... And I told her I thought she was a dispicable person.

She wanted to meet up and talk to me, said she understood why I might be upset. I refused and of course I said some things I shouldn't have. What's new? She didn't even defend herself. It's not like her.
I will talk to her, soon. I just need a few days to sort my mixed-up head out...again!

They're announcing the promotions before the weekend they said. I won't be holding my breathe....!

Part 20-Oops....

Oh God, this has to be a quickie! My interview is in 15 minutes!

Shopping last night was a disaster on a massive scale. So bad I really don't know where to start. Basically Lola took me to some great places. I tried on numerous fabulous 'Miss Money Penny-style' outfits and eventually chose one which I thought looked pretty good! A fitted jacket and pencil skirt in charcoal grey, with a sheer pink blouse...it said stylish and efficient, and meant I was a shoo-in for the promo.

So her mystery guy tagged along. He seemed okay and when he suggested we all go for a drink to celebrate my successful purchasing (even though I noticed that Lola didn't seem that keen) I agreed. I was keen to start answering some of the questions on the list and didn't want to waste the opportunity.

We went into a bar in town and Matt (that's his name) bought Lola and I a glass of wine. He actually seemed charming, until I began asking some important questions and he really tensed up. So did Lola.

'Where do you see yourself and Lola in 6 months' I asked, and I might as well have asked if he fancied commiting a murder the way they both went on. Lola flashed me a look that said that she did, in fact, fancy commiting murder, while lover-boy blushed so red I thought my wine might boil.

'I'm only asking' I went on, hoping to calm the situation. 'You're obviously serious about each other, I mean it has been months now, and you're shopping together and stuff. When's the wedding'?

I actually laughed thinking I was cracking an hilarious joke and expecting them to join in but they didn't. Instead both of them just sat there looking embarrassed and I couldn't understand what I had said wrong.

Then Lola said:

'Ruby, Matt and I are keeping things casual. I told you, it's nothing serious. Just put The List away okay'?

Damn! She had worked out what I was up to!

I said I was sorry. No point falling out with Lola when I had only just sorted things out with Cass.

'You guys should come over for dinner at the weekend, I know Cass will be around and she's dying to meet you Matt. Saturday'? I wanted to get to know him a bit more and Cass could help me out with The List.

But before Matt had a chance to answer Lola was saying 'No', they couldn't. Matt would be busy.

I was about to ask if Matt could answer for himself when it dawned on me that there was something dodge going on here. Why were they so reluctant to admit there was anything serious going on, yet Lola couldn't leave him tonight to come shopping with me?

It suddenly hit me! And I knew by the look on her face that Lola knew I had worked it out.

That's when I knocked over my wine glass and spilled red wine all over my pile of paper shopping bags! My interview outfit was destroyed and it was 9.05pm...too late to shop again!

So here I am, awaiting the call to Nigels office, wearing an old black suit and one of my new low-cut tops...I just knew they'd come in handy! What choice did I have?

I'm dreading this interview and after what I found out last night I really don't feel up to it....

Part 19-let me tell you about 'The List....

Hit the high street after work last night (had to leave work early because no late night shopping on a Tuesday obviously). Must have looked at a billion grey suits (trousers, skirts, shift-dresses, cropped pants, shorts??? with every style of jacket imaginable). All horrible on my fat, wobbly, oaf-like frame! Bugger!!! Note to self-must go on a sodding diet! I have re-gained all the weight I lost while grief-stricken in the days after Mark walked out. Must be more calories in wine than I thought?

It wasn't an altogether fruitless expedition though. I did manage to come home with a t-shirt emblazoned with the slogan: 'Single and desperate' (I thought it was kitch for about 5 seconds!), a pair of this seasons wet-look leggings (with my thighs?-BIG MISTAKE), and two seriously low-cut tops (my fall-back plan). I told you I was crap at shopping.

I rang Lola again and proved the t-shirt slogan right:

'Please Lola, shop with me! I am desperate'!

She said 'no' again at first, but once I described to her the delights I had so far managed to pick up while shopping alone she relented and promised to come. Everybody wants to be needed, right?

'Thursday night is late night shopping. I'll meet you at Starbucks. I may have my new man-friend in tow-I trust this will not be a problem'?

I needed her help so much that I would have agreed to anything. But now that I think about it I am a little weirded out by having a strange man tag along while I try on various undoubtedly unflattering outfits. I just hope he's a nice guy-Lola has a tendency to go for swines! But I will admit to being more than a bit excited about finally meeting her mysterious man! She has kept him a secret from Cass and I for months now and that has to mean something, doesn't it?

I rang Cass right away to tell her!

'Oh, I can't believe you're gonna get to meet him', she moaned, as I knew she would. 'Make sure to take 'The List' with you. It will save us loads of time later'.

The List is something Cass and I devised months ago,-especially for Lola-, to help her find the right man after years of dating losers, wasters and good-for-nothings. We used to call it the 'Lola List' but since my sudden revert back to single status I have been informed by my girls that it should now be known simply as 'The List' and can apply to any one of us (including Cass, should she find herself up-dating her own status any time soon).

Usually we would all go through 'The List' after Lola has been on 2 or three dates with a new man and shows interest in seeing him some more. It contains questions like:

-Is he ready to commit?
-If so, why is he not already committed?
-Or is he???

As well as:

-Does he smoke?
-How much does he earn?
-What are his thoughts on having children?

You get the idea!

Depending on the answers to these questions, as a group, we decide if it's worth Lolas while actually seeing said guy again, or whether she should wave bye-bye and move on (we deem anymore than three dates with a man who isn't serious long-term potential at this point in her life a total waste of dating energy.

Up until now Lola has been perfectly happy with this arrangement, but since meeting the 'mystery man' (whose name she won't even share with us) she has refused to answer any questions on The List, and has insisted The List be 'shelved' until further notice!

As Cass has so correctly pointed out, by meeting and spending time with Lola and her fella I will now be in a position to suss out answers to some of the questions on The List, and therefore try to guide our dear friend in the most appropriate direction in which to take her 'relationship'. Oh, the weight of responsability!

I assured Cass that I will indeed have The list about my person on Thursday night and also promised to call her the second I get home and fill her in on all details (she did not seem interested in any details about my interview outfit-I will have to sqeeze that in too).

There is hope! I know with Lola's help I will knock 'em dead! Wish me luck!!!!!

Part18-Where are Trinny and Susannah when you need 'em?

I've just been informed that my interview for the job promotions being offered in the office will be on Friday! I am gripped with a sudden panic! Friday!!!! Shit!

My first thought as Naughty Nigel plonked his rather considerable behind on the edge of my not-very-tidy desk and told me I am to attend an interview at 9am in his office (apart from 'good God get your fat ass off my poor fragile little desk you monster') was exactly what you might expect from a girl in my position:
'What the hell am I going to wear'?

Well obviously other worries flashed through my head first;
-9 am? Very early! What if I'm in late?
-Nigel's office? Will the smell and general 'nearness' of him distract me?
-Oh crap, I only have three days to prepare!!!!!

But the outfit! Well, that is my immediate worry of course. Not only will I be sat in front of the disgusting Nigel and his famous wandering eyes, but the MD and some important new head guy will also be in attendance. For the last few weeks in here I have literally been 'a mess' and couldn't have cared less whether I was smart, or projecting 'the right image'. But now? I have only one thought:

'I have absolutely NOTHING to wear'!

As soon as the greasy letch had shifted his enormous posterior and moved on I picked up the phone and called Lola (she's always very stylish, she reads 'Vogue'-I tend to stick to Heat or Bella).

'We need to go shopping' I panted down the line like a nuisance caller. 'Are you free tonight'?

She told me no, sorry, she has a date with the mystery guy...charming!

'Tomorrow then. I need a new interview outfit'?

Lola was very apologetic but told me she is tied up with lover-boy until the weekend and shopping is a no-can-do! To say I was shocked is an understatement-Lola NEVER puts her men before her mates! WTF was going on?

'Lola, you can see him anytime' I tried begging. 'But I must have an outfit before Friday morning'!

' I can't see him anytime, sweetie. He erm, works away quite a lot and we only get odd days together. That's why I can't stand him up this week. It could be a month before we see each other again properly. You can shop on your own can't you'?

She refused to budge! That is so not Lola! Something else I need to make a note to get to the bottom of!!!!

So anyway, I told Lola I guessed I'd have to shop alone and hung up. Cass is crap at shopping-she gets too impatient and buys all her stuff off the internet to save bother. I need high-street stores and I need them now.
I almost began to hyperventilate just thinking about my limited time frame.....

I rang Cass anyway, to tell her about Lola's 'suspicious' behaviour. Cass didn't seem surprised or worried, yet more odd behaviour! Have I been abducted by aliens and returned to the wrong planet? That would explain quite a lot.

So instead of getting my interview technique up to scratch and up-dating my CV, I've spent the morning checking out office style online, at Next and such-like. I am salivating at the thought of trying on some new outfits-that's has to be a good sign surely? I have made a mental note not to wear anything too low-cut (I know how much Nigel likes that) although the way things are going, low-cut may be my only chance....

Part 17-James Bond is my dad....

In a life that truly is becoming stranger than fiction, another episode of weirdom occurs.

My dad came a-visiting again last night and I'm beginning to suspect that something might be 'up'.
Two visits in two weeks is like, a record in my life time, and I just know there has to be an explaination for why he has started to make the effort (as if me being 'left' and him being married to my mother wasn't enough reason for him to want to spend time at mine).

He isn't giving much away but I got the impression last night that if I pry enough he might just let me in. Not sure if I really want to know what goes on in my father's private life though, to be honest, so I might just try not being nosey for once in my life.

Anyway, he arrived on my doorstep once again, unannounced and unassuming. I made him tea and layed out a plate of biscuits (the end of a packet of hobnobs, the last Club Milk and a couple of stale cream crackers was the best I could do-must make a note to always have good selection of biscuits in for any future unexpected callers or further visits from dad), and we sat in silence while pretending to watch Emmerdale and then some random cookery show -well, I was pretending anyway, perhaps he was watching for real, I shouldn't speak for him.

After the cookery show ended dad turned to me and asked me how I was doing. I told him about my meeting with the bank manager and how I was aiming to get a promotion at work. He looked decidedly unconvinced at the prospect of my getting it! Thanks dad! But on the plus side, he must have been so certain of my lack of capabilities that he offered to lend me the money to buy Mark out!
I'm kind of relieved (as well as offended obviously!)-I mean I wouldn't have to worry about licking up to Naughty Nigel forever more-but at the same time getting help from my parents just doesn't sit right with me now. I mean, I've been married for goodness sake, I should be able to stand on my own two feet by now! Besides I'd have mum on my case constantly if I owed her money: telling me what I could and couldn't buy and threatening me with legal action if I so much as tried to have a night out with the girls! It just wouldn't be worth it!

I said as much to dad.

'Oh, don't get me wrong, this would be between you and me love', he patted his finger off the end of his nose conspiritorilly. I was puzzled.

'Don't you have a joint account though' I asked, 'Surely mum would notice that sort of money going missing'?

Dad looked me square in the eyes and said 'Ruby, there are lots of things your mother doesn't notice about me, and plenty more I choose not to tell her'.

Talk about suspense! That's when I got the impression that something was up and that he was trying to give me a clue or two, but at that moment I was too stunned to speak. This was my poor, badly done-to old dad acting like some kind of secret agent and it was just plain weird! I'm trying not to think about it....

So anyway, I'm still going to try my very best to get promoted (even though my own father has no faith in me), but at least now I know I'm not going to lose the house whatever happens-oh, the relief!

I just hope dad isn't offereing me the dosh because he's thinking of leaving mum and moving in here with me as my roomy! I mean, technically he would own half of it wouldn't he? Now that really would be total weirdom!!!

Part 16-in which I get determined....

Bad News!

I had a meeting with my bank manager yesterday (how very grown up have I become?) and all was not good.
After talking about it to the girls on Friday night I decided that it might be a good idea to start getting my future in order and finding out where I stand with regard to buying Mark out of the house we bought together before we got married. I can't just sit around moping forever.

I love that house. It was never a starter home for us, although it was the first place we bought together. It sounds stupid now but I could really visualise us raising a family there, and putting the work in over the years to make it the type of cosy relaxed home I'd always wanted. Okay, so we'd hadn't done much more than paint a few rooms since moving in 5 years ago, but we had a plan and I always thought we'd get around to it one day...

The girls thought I might be better off to cut my losses and agree to sell up and split any money made between us. I could buy a little one bed apartment and start again. And I might be better off away from the memories-good and bad. But it's not what I want.
I've lost my husband, and it's as if the rug has been pulled from underneath me. I really don't want that to be a literal discription of my life.

But after yesterday it's looking like I may have no choice. My bank manager was pretty reluctant to lend me any more money. The only thing on my side is the fact that there just happens to be a recession going on right now and the bank would rather I double my mortgage and keep attempting to pay for the house than we try to sell it...and nobody buys it! Or worse still, we sell it at a loss! Who'd have thought that with all the bad luck I'm having at the moment, my saving grace would turn out to be worldwide economic meltdown?

Not that he said yes. Oh, no, he didn't. He basically told me my earnings are crap and not enough to persuade him to give me a break. But when I mentioned that there are some big money promotions coming up at work he perked up a bit (I admit, I was clutching at straws by this stage because I have about as much chance of getting one as I have of meeting Camilla Parker Bowles in HMV). The deal is this: If I can bag me a promotion before the end of next month the mortgage is mine...if not I'm out on my ear!

I'm not sure how to feel-on one side I want to keep the house-but on the other do I really want a promotion in a job I pretty much hate at the best of times? And even if I did, how do I go about getting me one? They say life is about choices don't they? Crap choices...sure!

Interviews for the promotion are starting next week. Before yesterday I hadn't even put myself forward, but this morning I marched up to Naughty Nigel's desk all full of determination (determination to ignore his slimyness) and placed my application right in front of him. To say he almost choked on his morning coffee would be an understatement! Today I'm keeping my head down and I'm trying my best to focus on work, work, work-which is why I'm logging off now, obviously!

Last week it looked like I might get the sack. I've only got a few days to turn things around. Wish me luck....

Part 15-in which I curl up in the snug....

So, about my date with Lola on Friday: I had been really looking forward to catching up with her and having a girlie night out. I haven't seen that much of her lately because she's started seeing some guy from work and, although she's playing her cards very close to her chest, I get the feeling things are pretty serious.

It's weird cos Lola doesn't 'do' serious, (she's my fun friend while Cass is the sensible one), but I guess it happens to all of us evenutually and we fall for the lies of some loser who promises to love us forever, only to let us down in the end. I made a note to myself to make every attempt to try and put Lola off getting in too deep. I didn't want her getting hurt the way I had.

But when I turned up at the bar we had arranged to meet in -this new place in town she had told me was real hip and happening-I started to get a tiny bit suspicious. The place wasn't hip and happening at all. Rather, it was one of those old-man style pubs where people sit quietly over a pint and there's no music playing in the back ground.
Not the sort of place Lola frequented at all.

And there was no sign of Lola. I wondered if perhaps I had gotten the name wrong but I checked the text she'd sent me with the name and directions on it and everything was right. This had to be the place! I didn't have a clue what was going on.

Feeling uncomfortably conspicuous in my mini and stilettos, I took out my phone again, about to ring Lola and chastise her for picking such a quiet place to meet, when a text came through from her saying to 'hold fire' and get myself a drink. She'd be there in a minute.
I did as she bid and pulled up a bar stool. I ordered a gin and tonic, although I was tempted to ask for a pint of ale.

No sooner had my drink of 'mothers ruin' been dropped in front of me, when the door swung open and in walked a familiar figure-also dressed to the nines. But it wasn't Lola.
All at once I worked out what was going on as a confused-looking Cass stood in front of me.

Of course! Lola had set us both up. I should have known she would pull something like this. Arranging for us both to meet here, in a quiet pub, so we could talk. It was exactly what they did in the movies-Lolas' favourite source of life coaching!

For a moment Cass looked aghast. I thought she might turn and run. I thought about running myself.
But as reality dawned on her and she too worked out Lolas' little game, Cass burst into roars of laughter. And I couldn't help but join in.

In minutes we had hugged and were both apologising, one louder than the other. Cass ordered a drink and we took a seat in a snug, away from the full view of the bar (not that there was anyone but the barman to look at us).

'I really am sorry Rubes' Cass told me as we got comfortable. 'I should never have said all of those things to you. Mark was your husband at the end of the day and I should have realised how much what I said would hurt you. I didn't mean it. Well, not all of it anyway'.

'No. You were right' I replied seriously, meaning every word. I had given this a lot of thought.
'Mark wasn't a very good husband and I probably am better off without him. It was just hard to listen to at first. I feel such a fool for wasting all those years on him'.

Cass took my hand and hooshed herself closer to me.
'You haven't wasted any time Rubes. Everything in life is a learning experience. So you got married and it didn't work out. So what? You were happy most of the time, weren't you? So it was part of your life. Now you move on to the next part-the better part! And I have a feeling there are plenty of hunky, sexy men in this part, so don't worry'.

I gave her a big hug and was grateful for the fact that no matter what happens in any part of my life, Cass would always be a constant I can keep coming back to. And I was also grateful for Lola-another constant-who had risked her friendship with us both to put things right between us.

We didn't move from that seat in that little snug for the whole night except to go to the bar or the toilets. By 9pm we had moved from Gin and Tonics onto those pints of ale that looked so wholesome and delicious! At 9.30 the barman put the match on behind the bar and a small crowd gathered on bar stools to watch. It livened the place up a bit.
At some point Lola joined us, relieved to hear her cunning plan had paid off, and the three us us sat there and talked and laughed and had the best night in ages, all dolled up in our party outfits, shoes kicked off, curled up in the snug in the old mans pub.

Thank God for friends.

Part14-where I find a stranger on my doorstep....

Well, I've made it to another Friday, thank goodness! Another tough week down-many, many more to go.

Apart from now being the subject of office gossip (more on that later), I also feel like a total train wreck! I haven't slept properly in weeks and I still cry quite often. Most nights when I get home from work I bung some frozen crap or other in the microwave and then cry for the rest of the night. Sometimes I can stop long enough to catch an episode of Coronation Street or Come Dine With Me, but generally it's just a permanent flow of constant weeping. You'd think Mark had died, not just left me!

Anyway, last night was a bit different. My dad came over.

It was so surprising! He NEVER visits. He especially never visits without mum. Although we were pretty close when I was younger, things changed when I became a teenager and it wasn't cool to hang out with your dad. Plus, I suppose I blamed him in some way for me ending up with the mother from hell! (Surely if he'd managed to mix his gene's with some other, better, woman, I'd have still been born me? After all, I am NOTHING like my mother so I must be predominantly his gene pool)!

So anyway, there I was snivelling away alone having just polished off a box of micro chips and a pot of Ambrosia custard (I do hope Gillian McKeith isn't reading this!), when the doorbell rang.
I contemplated not answering but I sort of thought it might be Cass, coming to say sorry or something, so I wiped my wet eyes best I could and opened up.
There was my dad, standing on my doorstep, a big fake smile on his face.

He said he'd come because he was worried about me: Couldn't bare to think of me on my own and heart-broken. I didn't know what to say to him to begin with so I made him a mug of tea.

Then we sat and watched Corrie together in a not-particularly-awkward silence and I didn't cry at all.
When it was over dad turned to me and said:

'She doesn't mean to be the way she is you know'. And I knew he meant my mother.

'How do you put up with her'? I asked. Were we bonding now? How weird?

He looked so forlorn as he shrugged and said:

'She wasn't always like that. She used to be the woman I loved. And anyway, wasn't it worth it to have gotten a wonderful daughter like you'.

I remained silent and said nothing about my gene theory.

'Try not to be too hard on Mark, or too upset about what's happened love'. He said then, and took me by surprise. 'Sometimes things are just over, and it's best for everyone in the long run to call it a day. In a way, he's been very brave'.

I wanted to scream at him and ask him how brave it was to marry someone and then, less than three years later, break your marriage vows. But I didn't. His words had stung me and I knew there was truth in them to some extent.

My poor dad, I thought. He wishes he'd been brave enough to leave mum.

'I probably shouldn't say this, but, it's never too late you know'?

He nodded, understanding my meaning, and suddenly part of me felt I'd had a lucky escape with Mark. I'd hate to think that staying with me might have made him as unhappy as my dad is with mum. Mind you, at least dad didn't go out and find himself a floozy called Kate!

So dad went, and I was left thinking about what he'd said, and I realised something that I hadn't allowed myself to think before: Mark could have lied and cheated on me forever.
But he hadn't. He'd chosen to tell me to my face that he no longer loved me so that I could move on and live my life. I suppose I should be grateful to him to some extent.

Then again, maybe he wasn't thinking of me at all and just wanted to be with 'Kate' so badly he was prepared to hurt the only person that stood in his way.

Maybe I'll never know. But I like the first theory better...

The office has been hellish today thanks to Pam and her big mouth! This is the sort of rubbish I've been listening to all day:

'I heard your husband's left you Ruby-you must be devastated'

' I heard your fella's been doing it with a girl nearly half your age, but you mustn't feel humiliated'!

'Ruby, is it true you were involved in that wife-swapping situation with Pamela, her husband and their best friends'?

Thank God I'm going out for drinks with Lola tonight! Hopefully that'll take my mind off my spiralling-out-of-control-life few a few hours, at least...

Part 13-in which i am sacrificed by the sisterhood...

Perhaps 'poor' Pamela isn't quite as deserving of my sympathies as I had at first thought. It seems some people will do ANYTHING to deflect attention (negative attention at least) away from themselves.

As I mentioned yesterday, everyone in here was gossiping about her. She was the main topic of inane chat around the water cooler and they were all asking those of us who were actually there to witness this traversty (boring Brenda's word's-not mine) for the truth about what went on.

Of course out of some unspoken sisterhood loyalty I refused to be drawn on the subject and kept myself to myself for most of the day. I was the last person who wanted to get involved in office tittle-tattle right now, given my own sordid situation!

Naturally throughout the day the rumours that were spreading like wild fire around the place got more and more twisted, until, by around 4pm I actually heard from dopey Debbie in accounts that Pamela had been involved in a 'wife-swapping' senario, which had led to Pamela herself becoming embroiled in a torrid affair with her best friends husband. The friend had allegedly found out, and, after an initial period of understandable shock, had suggested that the two couples live in harmony in the one house, happily ever after. Half the office believed that this actual situation was real and had been a kept secret by Pamela for several months now, until at last, on Saturday night at the hen, said 'best friend' had decided she could keep her love for Pamela's betrothed a dirty secret no longer and announced it for all the world to hear!

This, of course, was a load of old tosh!

Pamela's fiance was just a bollocks, like the rest of mankind!

I felt so bad for her that I decided I would try and speak to Pam, try and make her feel better, let her know that she wasn't the only one to be dumped on from a great height. Maybe it's something to do with falling out with Cass (we still haven't spoken by the way) but I'm feeling all 'sister's unite' today, so I sidled up to her desk while everyone else had gone off to the canteen for a brew (she, like me, obviously prefered not to be around everyone else just now and had hung on in the office).

'I know what you're going through' I told her in a low voice,- probably a little too secret-agent-like if I'm honest.

When she looked up at me with tear-stained eye's I gave in and let the cat out of the bag, telling her all about Mark and how he'd left me out of the blue for some floozy.

Pamela sat in silence taking it all in and for a moment I felt we had some weird 'dumpee' connection. As a result I told her all about the 'other' woman and how Mark wanted to sell our house and get a divorce. Her sad eye's lit up and I really believed I had managed to cheer her up by sharing.
Feeling she had my back, once I had finished my story of woe I added 'You will keep this to yourself Pamela, won't you'?

She nodded-quite sheepishly now that I think of it actually-and before I could receive my sympathy hug and pat-on-the-back for being one of the sisterhood she was up from her seat and away off to follow the rest of the office gossips into the canteen.

I knew immedialtely that I had made a ginormous error-Pamela was gonna sacrifice me in order to save herself!

She was going to tell them my secret.

By the time I was ready to clock off at 5pm I could already hear the whispering from all the way down the corridor. People were turning their backs on me to snigger as I entered a room. The girls who sat across from me in the office were looking at me with doe-eyed sympathy and I just knew that everybody knew!

No longer was Pamela-the cow- the subject of office gossip. Now it was all focused on something much more interesting and juicy-ME! After all, what could be more pathetic than a woman who had shreiked and -dare-I-say-it-boasted with pride while her collegues had cooed and fawned over her wedding photos not three years ago, only to be unceremoniously dumped by her 'darling' hubby before they'd even had chance to celebrate their third anniversary?

I was a laughing stock, just as I had feared I would be. So much for sisterhood!

I got out of there as quickly as I could but made sure to flash my angriest scowl towards Pam on the way out.
I heard her mutter something like:
'It just slipped out Ruby' as I fled the building.

'Yeah, not out of your best friend though, it would seem'! I wanted to shout back....

What do I do about Cass? I feel terrible and part of me thinks I should ring her and apologise...the other half thinks that would be admitting that I had a crappy marriage...which I didn't! I need advice.

Part 12-in which I am forced to hear some home truths...

Poor Pamela!

She didn't show at work for the last two days, but she's arrived in this morning and I can tell by her face that she's feeling a lot like I did only a few weeks ago (not that I'm feeling any better today). Already the whole office is either all over her-offering their useless sympathies- or avoiding her like the plague and whispering in corners...'was it true'?...'will she take him back'?...'how could she not have known'?...Exactly what I don't want to happen to me.

I kind of feel like maybe I should go and talk to her, let her know she isn't the only one crap like this happens to, but I'm so terrified of blowing my cover that I just don't think I can. I'll leave it for now and see how the day goes. We're not that close, it might be awkward.

So anyway, speaking of awkward, I had dinner last night with Cass and I'm not sure how, but we sort of ended up having an arguament! I'm devastated because Cass is like my oldest friend and I really need her at the moment, but she said some stuff about Mark that really upset me, and I know she's probably just trying to show solidarity by being on my side, but it hurt me so much I snapped and chewed her face off for it!

When I thought about it afterwards I couldn't believe I did that! It's like I'm still defending him and sticking up for him even after everything he's done to me, though I can't think why. But when Cass told me he'd always been a user and that I had always been blind to his behaviour I had to confront her on it...didn't I?

Worse still, she said she never really thought he loved me! Er, why don't you stick a knife through my heart while you're at it sister? Or at least that I'd loved him more. But that's normal isn't it? For one partner to love the other more?
How could we have loved each other equally? Impossible! Just cos Cass thinks she has the perfect relationship with Dave she judges everyone else by the measure of it, which is obviously completely unfair.

She said Mark never did anything nice for me,-but it's not all about money is it? Then she said we never did stuff together (like her and Dave-see what I mean?) but that's just because we didn't like to smother each other-Mark liked his space...well, we both did...that's healthy, right?

Then she told me he had always taken advantage of me, letting me do all of the housework and never helping out! That's not true, sometimes Mark took the bins out for me! Besides, he was old-fashioned like that. He believed men and women had seperate roles and the mans was to earn the dosh while the womans was to 'keep' house (whatever that means). Except, I went out to work too, obviously, but that's modern life for you isn't it? I work because I want to.

She apologised for saying all that stuff but she told me she could hold back no longer. Now that the 'bastard' had dumped me for an 'even bigger eejit' (her words, I swear!) it was time for me to wake up and realise that I'm better off without him! Time to move on and stop moping, time to get myself a life.

I was crushed to find out what she really thought and I fought back because I felt defensive. I said some things about her and Dave that we both know weren't true (they truly are the perfect couple, even in anger I can see that) and we left seperately and not speaking. I feel terrible!

Perhaps she thought it might be a good way to help me to get over Mark, or maybe it really is what she thinks-in which case, why didn't she tell me this before I married him?
Am I right to be upset with her, after all Mark did cheat on me and maybe Cass has a point? I'm so confused right now I don't know where to turn. First I lost my husband, now my best friend! What the hell is happening to me?

Poor Pam probably thinks things can't get any worse...little does she know!

Part 11-poor Pamela!

Okay, so you know I mentioned once or twice over the last few weeks how much I HATE hen-parties?
Well, I wish I was about to tell you that I've totally changed my opinion...but I'm not!

I was so certain all week that I was just going to 'drop out' of Pamela's hen party proceeding's at the very last minute, but after she roped me in to collect the costumes I felt unable to let her down. My 'guilty' button-something I've suffered with since childhood-is still very much switched to 'ON' and I am inherently unable to upset people or have them dislike me!

Besides, how bad would it have been if all of the girls had turned up in the tackiest bar in town, wearing only fishnets and pink leotards with no bunny ears and tails to finish the outfits? It would have been a catastrophe, that's what! But perhaps no worse than how things actually turned out....

The plan was that all of us hens would arrive at the bar early, dressed in afore-mentioned attire, and I would dish out the ears and tails so that we would be ready when Pamela and her sister Patricia arrived, a little later. And then we'd all dress Pam up like Jessica Rabbit, in a red PVC dress and wig, and the red bunny ears I'd also collected-the usual hen-night 'shenanigans'.

A good theme, you might think. And these things are all about the theme, aren't they?
Except that the PVC dress turned out to be a size or three too small for Pam and it took no less than 47 minutes, half a tonne of talcum powder (haven't a clue where that appeared from-the 80's perhaps?) and some excruciatingly embarrassing positions, to get the bride-to-be into costume!

Poor Pam!

Not that getting to a bar in town at such an early hour on a Saturday evening wearing nothing more than our underwear had been much of a laugh for the rest of us!

Though I had sworn to myself that I'd steer away from the bad alcohol (slammers, shots, cocktails, fish bowls) in order to keep both my mouth and my emotions in check, it wasn't long before I found myself included in a round of tequila slammers, followed by a round of Sambuca's! This wasn't the time or place to abstain from getting drunk, I quickly decided.

In fact, standing in the tackiest bar in town, wearing only tights and pink ears, surrounded by a group of twenty women who I could say I knew in varying degrees from 'fairly well' to 'not at all', and who could talk about nothing but marriage and weddings, I honestly couldn't think of a better time to be drunk!

By the time I'd started sipping the fourth cocktail on the menu (I was working my way through it one by one) the 'Mr. & Mrs.' quiz was over and the stripper had arrived.

Poor Pamela!

Either her sister (who'd made the booking) had a cruel sense of humour, or there had been some kind of mix-up, because instead of the Brad Pitt look-alike we'd all been promised, we were faced with a WOMAN! And not a very attractive one at that! She was in her mid-to-late 50's and considerably over-weight!

'Sorry girls' the stripper-or 'sexy Silvia' as we later found out she was called -apologised, as she began her routine. 'There's been a cock-up with our bookings I think. I'm supposed to be doing a stag party for a second wedding tonight! I was booked by the bride.'

Yes, I could see why.

Don't ask me why she went on to perform her routine, but she did! And poor Pam's face said it all! Gutted! She was having an awful night. She certainly didn't appear to enjoy having Silvia bend her over and spank her buttocks with a cane!
I dread to think how the stag's took the arrival of our 'Brad'!

As a result we all got more and more drunk...and missed our booking for dinner!

Then, after several more shots which included an 'orgasm' and the dreaded 'slippery nipple' Pamela began to talk loudly about how much she loved her 'wonderful' fiance Colin, and how she couldn't wait to get married. I suddenly felt very nauseous and scarily, a bit weepy! Must keep mouth shut and say nothing...repeat after me.

But before I had a chance to say anything, another of Pamela's equally drunken friends piped up with this bombshell:

'You're not the only one...I love him too!'

Everyone in our large group fell silent. Ooops! Someone else who'd had more than one tequila too many it would seem! Turns out the friend has been having a bit of a fling with the groom-to-be, and we were treated to the gory details as Pamela blushed, then fumed, then ran away!

Poor Pamela!

The night was a total disaster but I went home feeling sad, yet strangely comforted by the fact that I am not the only mug in the world!

Even better, I am not the only mug in my office as it turns out...Is that cruel?

Part 10-where i try to be a slut but am really a comfortable old blanket...

Thank goodness today is Friday! It's been the longest week EVER! I really wish I'd had the guts to tell the girls in my office that I am NOT going to Pamela's stupid bloody hen-night earlier in the week, because then perhaps they would have sent me to coventry and I could have saved myself the torture of having to endure an entire week listening to their plans for tomorrow night! As it is I have somehow managed to get myself roped into helping out with costumes for the night! I live closest to the fancy dress shop you see, and have been elected the one who should collect the 20 pairs of pink bunny ears, 1 pair of red ones, 21 cute bunny tails and assorted other hen party novelties. Oh, and I've also been told to stop off at the grocery store on the way and buy a large bunch of carrots-green bits to remain! Go figure...

Why am I so bloody weak?

I am in an indescribably foul mood! You can probably tell.

Actually, my mood isn't really because of Pamela and her stupid hen night..., although it isn't helping. I met up with Mark last night...

It had been on my mind all day-his voice-mail and why he might want to speak to me.
Did he just want to talk about the house again, or was there something more? Had he realised he'd made a huge mistake? Did he want me back? I tried but I just couldn't stop hope from rearing it's ugly head.

I knew I had to ring him. So I did.

I kept it as casual as I could, light and breezy, just being polite and returning his call. I even did it during my lunch hour so that he might think I was going to be busy after work, or that I had only just checked my messages. I wanted it to appear as if I hadn't lain awake all night replaying his message in my mind over and over, clinging onto every syllable of every word as if it might save my life someday.

Plus, I wanted to get him when he was alone, or at least not near HER. I hated to think that SHE might be loitering around him, distracting him from what I was saying, making signals to him to wind-up the call and get rid of me quickly. I wanted him all to myself...in more ways than one.

He sounded pleased that I'd called him back...relief! This was a good sign surely?
We arranged to meet in a bar in town after work. He said he wanted to talk to me properly, no bickering, just two adults behaving sensibly, being responsible. Well, I suppose there is always a first time...

Don't ask me why but it sounded like a come-on.

After hanging up I deserted my dreary turkey salad bap and dashed onto the high street to buy a new outfit! A girl had to look her best when meeting her ex-didn't she?
Remembering Naughty Nigel and his comments the other day, I opted for a low-cut top and shorter-than-I would-normally-go-for skirt. Not quite slutty, but certainly 'looser' than Mark would expect of me. I had gotten quite 'comfortable' in how I dressed of late. This may be my only chance to remind him of who he had fallen in love with all those years ago. I may have gotten lazy over the last couple of years, but I still had 'it'-at least I hoped I had! I had to make him see that.

I forced myself to be a few minutes late for our meeting. I decided to take my own advice for a change. I actually sat in the bar accross the road and watched from the window until I saw Mark arrive. I wanted to make an entrance-for him to have to watch me walk towards him. In this skirt he wouldn't be able to resist! Although, now I come to think of it, he wasn't the most passionate man alive, and he had sure resisted me before...
I pretended to be distracted, talking to someone on my mobile (I actually called Cass for a quick chat so it was a genuine call) and I casually strolled towards where he was already seated. He had bought me a glass of red wine-a merlot. He knew me so well.

Right from the off it was polite but awkward. There I was, sat next to my husband in a bar as we had been thousands of times before, but now we were like two strangers meeting for the first time. Two teenagers on a first date, but apparently without the hope of a snog at the end. No sitting too close, no over-familiar topics of conversation. It went something like this:

'You look well'.

'Thank you. So do you'. Cough.

'How's work'?

'Oh you know, same as ever', pause. 'And you'?

'Oh, boring. Same as ever'.

' I met that friend of your mother's last week. What's her name? Minty something or other...'

You get the idea. It was awful!

'So what are we doing here exactly', I asked eventually, when I could take the polite chit chat no longer.

That's when things went from polite to serious and Mark turned all business-like on me. A first as far as I could remember.

'Ruby' he said, unable to look directly at me as if I was sunlight and he was some kind of vampire or something, 'our marriage is over and we both need to start moving on. I think the best thing would be to sell the house-a clean sweep for us both'.
My heart sank for the third time since he'd announced he was leaving me-did that mean I had drowned?

'And Ruby' the final gasp was yet to come. 'I'm filing for divorce'.

The cool, unaffected act went out the window. I reverted to snivelling beggar woman in an instant.

'Why are you doing this to me'? I pleaded. ' I love you! Please don't do this to me'!
I may have grabbed his sleeve at that point.

He looked around, uncomfortable, obviously not wanting a scene. I was embarrassing him. I immediately remembered that we were in a public place and slowly got a grip of myself-how clever of him to suggest meeting in a bar? But surely all this messy weeping was undoing the good impression I'd hoped to create by dressing like a slut. Not that that had worked either...

Once I'd calmed down I asked him the one question that I needed an answer to:

'Why don't you want to be married to me anymore'?

Needed, but probably wasn't ready for an answer...


'Ruby, what we had was great! I don't regret any of it for a second. But I do regret cheating, I do regret hurting you, you didn't deserve that. It's just that...well I just...I'm not in love with you anymore. We got to a point where we became friends, just friends. Nothing more than that...too comfortable with each other, like a pair of old blankets. And then I met Kate and...well, I didn't mean to...but I couldn't help how I felt! And now, it's just so....It's such a mess! But it's over Rubes. It's over. I really am so very sorry...'

Well, at least he hadn't said, 'It's not you, It's me...'

He looked so ashamed but he'd answered me as honestly as he could and somehow it managed to hit home. I knew him so well that I could tell it was the truth. And it hurt more than when he'd first left, more than knowing he'd cheated on me, more than waking up in our bed alone every day.

I realised finally that it was over, that somehow we'd managed to get too comfortable, to know each other too well and as a result we'd lost everything. How had that happened? How could I blame him? He didn't love me-it was as simple as that. There was nothing I could do but move on and I knew it.

We talked a while longer and though it killed me, I kept my cool. I would look at my finances, have a word with the bank, see if I could afford to buy him out. I wanted to keep the house.

And the divorce? I needed time. I would think about it. I just needed to get my head around it. I suggested we try councelling-perhaps we could save this tattered old (young?) marriage of ours. But he said it was too late for him, he was with Kate now. I bit my lip! Another thing I couldn't get my head around, but I refused to make a show of myself again.

When he left I felt empty. I ordered another drink, but left before it arrived. I wandered around town for nearly an hour, not sure where to go. I dialled Cass but hung up before she could answer.

Then I went home and spent another night awake and in tears.

So now you see why I'm feeling utterly pee-ed off today!

And why I feel like I want to kill Pamela, who has just told me how pleased she is that I'm coming tomorrow night!

'We need you there Ruby, to remind us how great marriage is and to stop me from getting off with the stripper when I'm drunk...'

Part 9- in which I find out her name...

I had a rough night last night. Not that every night isn't rough really, but last night was particularly bad.

After the day I'd had-the threat of unemployment from Naughty Nigel and my hen-party headache-I decided to treat myself to a bit of pampering.
You know the sort of thing-a long soak in a hot bubble bath, a new body lotion, some rich and expensive dark chocolates, 'Friends' series one on dvd-the usual indulgent girlie treats. I thought it might make me feel better about myself because I have to be honest; since I got dumped by the love of my life-the man I believed was going to love me, flaws and all, forever-I've been feeling decidedly worthless and unattractive. Think rejection on it's highest level!

Since he went I have barely had the energy or interest in combing my permanently ratted hair, never mind painting my chipped and bitten nails or wearing a scrap of make-up. But I read a feature in this month's Marie Claire magazine that talked about how we women should spend more time on ourselves as it helps our self-esteem and makes us more attractive to the opposite sex (or something along those lines) so I thought, given my current state, I'd give it a bash. What do I have to lose?

I was running the bath when I made my fatal mistake: I checked my phone to see if I had any messages.

I had three.

The first was a voice-mail from Lola-she had bumped into some mutual friends of ours in a bar in town who mentioned that they'd heard Mark and I had split up. She thought I might want to know that it's 'out'. I felt the same sinking feeling I'd experienced when I was accosted by Minty Badminton in Sainsbury's, but I swallowed it down and took a bite of one of my expensive chocolates to take the taste away.
'Nothing I can do' I thought, people are going to find out.

The second was another voice-mail from Mark's (and subsequently, my) friend Davey. He was calling to tell me he'd just bumped into Mark and Kate at the cinema!
Kate...I knew her name....how...real!
'I had no idea' his message said, bless him! I had always liked Davey-unlike most of Mark's friends who I mainly disliked with a passion.
'Just wanted to say how sorry I am. Let me know if there's anything I can do'. Ah!

A vision of my mother's face as she stormed out of my house a couple of days ago flashed through my mind! Obviously her plan to 'sort' the situation had not worked! It was now common knowledge that my life was in tatters-her reputation would be disgraced! I actually laughed! The pain I was suffering was almost worth it! Almost.

I stopped laughing when I heard the third voice-mail message.

Mark's voice made me melt with sorrow and desperation.

'Hey Rubes. It's been a while. We really need to meet up and talk. Ring me when you're free'. There was an awkward pause before he added, sounding remarkably unsure of himself, 'It's, er me, Mark, by the way'. As if there might be any confusion.

I hate to admit it but I hugged the phone to my chest-my busom to be precise-like they do in the movies. I felt a few tears well up in my eyes. I played the message again and revelled in the comforting closeness of the voice of the man, let's face it, I still loved.
Then I suddenly remembered my running bath-water and dashed into the bathroom just in time to prevent a sudsy flood.

After a few seconds of standing still and staring into my steaming bath full to the brim of soft inviting bubbles I had a rethink and pulled the plug out. I shoved the expensive chocolates into the waste bin and pulled my dirty hair up into a tight knot on my head. The mood for pampering had deserted me and instead I decided to curl up in bed listening to Mark's message over and over. Feeling sorry for myself had alwayd been my default setting.

I want to hate him-especially when I visualise him and 'Kate' together (in my mind she is tall, skinny, blonde-everything that I am not)-but I just can't! Instead, I hate myself. It's easier.

It feels like I'll never be happy-or cleanly-tressed-ever again...

Part 8 -willies, nipples and Naughty Nigel!

The talk in the office all week has been of nothing but chocolate willies and slippery nipples! It's driving me mad!


Yes, Pamela's hen night is coming up this weekend and it is currently the hot gossip topic. In a way, I'm glad about that because at least no one has had time to focus on my dishevelled hair and pasty face and put two and two together about Mark yet. On the other hand, all of the girls-Pamela included-presume that I'll be going and to be honest it's the last thing I feel like doing.

I hate hen parties at the very best of times-I hated my own (think tacky vomit-inducing willy straws, disgusting vomit-tasting drinks, butt-ugly naked dancing men...yugh!) -and the idea of spending a night in the company of 19 other giggling women dressed in varying shades of pink, all talking about being in love and getting married (and without a doubt our sex lives will make an appearance too) is my current second vision of hell. The first?....I'm already living it!

But I can't say I won't be there, not yet. If I do they'll heap pressure on me for the rest of the week until I cave in (as I always do) and change my mind.
No, I'm far better off holding my tongue for now, going along with all the plans and suggestions, agreeing to wear bunny ears and a tail and meet up in some tacky bar in town for shots and cocktails. I'll be clever, say I'm definately going, and then pull out at the last minute by text. Fool proof...I hope!

Still nobody has worked anything out in here, although my boss-'Naughty' Nigel -did call me into his office yesterday afternoon for a private chat about my sick days.

'You still look unwell, Ruby', he told me in what could only be described as his 'sympathetic' voice.
We call him 'Naughty' Nigel because he really is a bit goody goody and nerdy. But sometimes, when he thinks he might be in with a chance, he switches from goody goody to sleaze-ball and tries it on! I'd heard rumours but I didn't really believe it of him until he did it to me at the Christmas party last year when we'd both downed one too many 'cheeky vimto's'.

'Ruby', he murmured to me over the vol-au-vonts, in his most sleazy voice, 'I love it when you wear those low cut tops into the office. You should wear them more often'.

Drunk as I was I felt myself shudder and back away from him slightly.
'Is that so'? I replied. 'Well why don't I do you a favour and email your wife the details of the website that I buy them from. Then she can wear them for you at home too. I'm sure she'll be delighted to make her husband so happy'.

To my delight he went instantly white! So, just to be really evil, I added:

'I'll make sure to pass the compliment on to my husband too. He goes to the gym you know?' before leaving him to it.
He hasn't been anything but nerdy and polite in my presence ever since! In fact, I probably could have gotten away with a few extra sick day's, had I been brave enough to try. I'm just not like that. Besides, he might not be so afraid of me once he finds out that I no longer have a big strong husband to run to my defence! I decided I had better make sure news of my marriage split does not come out in my workplace...ever!

I shrugged and told Nigel I feel absolutely fine...On top of the world...Never better! I could tell he didn't believe me but he didn't argue. Instead he told me that he is concerned then that if my health is back to normal, he doesn't know what could be causing such a drop in my work out-put? He told me I appear to have done nothing for the last couple of weeks. He inferred that I am a waste of space.

'In these current times Ruby....' and I felt myself automatically switch off. Long have I been sick of listening to tales of the effects of our country's recession. And although I was aware that what he was saying to me was pretty serious (I think he was telling me basically that if I don't pull my sock's up I may lose my job) I could not bring myself to care. Is that pathetic? Is it terrible that I am more upset and concerned about spending my life alone than about starving to death or becoming homeless (worst case obv)?

Nothing matters without Mark, I found myself thinking, and I wanted to tell Naughty Nigel to shove his job up his arse! But I just didn't care enough to even do that. Instead I found myself nodding my agreement and promising to try harder.
'If you are having personal problems Ruby, you know you can always come and talk to me'. I picked up from the deepening of his voice and the nasty wink, that he had reverted to sleaze-ball for a second time and I realised that -THANK GOD- I am not yet at my lowest ebb! I am not yet desperate enough to fall for his 'nerdy' charms. And so I made my excuses and left.

Things are never as bad as they seem are they? After all, I don't HAVE to be alone. There's always Nigel, if I find myself really desperate...