Darleen called out ‘Margaret’ and went to meet her, arms outstretched so when the met they hugged and kissed one another warmly. She led us into their living room where we were introduced to each other, she had a warm friendly face, and her dark eyes seemed to flash as she spoke calling me ‘Rosalyn’, instead of the Rose or Rosie I was used to. She called to Florence to go put the kettle on for Tea as we settled on to her couch, Darleen on one side of her and me on the other. I noticed the difference in their accents, Florence had that gentle middle class polite accent, whereas Margaret’s was more of the cockney accent of East London, from where she was from as I was to find out later. Once it was ready Florence brought it to us on a tray and placed in on the coffee table in front of us, then returned with a platter of pastries. Margaret poured Tea for all of us, something she enjoyed as the hostess. We enjoyed it as we chatted, or rather Margaret and Darleen talked about things that. The email she sent was very thorough. It included all of the sordid information I needed. It included who he was. It included photos of him. It included what he did for a living. It included the fact that he was not only married, but had children. There were photos of his wife and all of her phone numbers.There were also photos of the two of them together at several locations over the past month or so. Sarah had somehow also managed to get recorded conversations between them, both face to face talks and phone calls.Most damning though was the video. It wasn’t some grainy, barely viewable cell phone footage; it looked like a high resolution, extremely boring porno movie.I guess I should have been hurt. I should have been shattered emotionally. After all, Betty and I had been married for more than twenty years.And I was in fact angry. But to be truthful, a part of me was relieved. It was almost as if deep down inside I’d been waiting for this to happen.There are moments or events in.
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