It’s rather sad. When I first married Sue she was quite slim, fun to be with, someone who enjoyed walking in the countryside. In fact when we first got together we actually went camping, amongst other things. North Wales was the obvious venue; a lot of mountain walks and rock climbing. As I was a young lieutenant in the Royal Marines, recently commissioned at Lympstone, leave was a rare luxury so having places to go was important. At just an hour’s drive across from Chester where Sue lived, and not too far from where she was studying to be a teacher, North Wales was the perfect place for our courtship…such an unusual word these days.
As a student teacher she was obliged to take classes which were normally unpopular with the rest of the staff and she would often take the girls from her class for P.E or games. Sometimes we went running together, (she was marathon capable that’s for sure). Now, when I am home on leave, I am wishing that she wasn’t there. I know that when I return from the Centre she will have spent most of the afternoon on her computer, on-line shopping, spending her mother’s money like there was no tomorrow. Or she might be watching afternoon television or listening to Radio 2, which seems to be a favourite pastime as well. Of course, the most serious complaint I have is that she eats too much. She loves her boxes of chocolates, which is why she now weighs in at fourteen and a half stone. I find it a little embarrassing when the other ladies join us in the Mess.
A little over a year ago, Sue inherited two and a half million pounds from her mother, plus a house in west London and a cottage in Devon. The cottage in Devon is useful as it isn’t too far from Lympstone where my main base is, but it is just as likely I could be in Plymouth, or at another base. Sue has no other living relatives; no sisters, no brothers, no aunts, so that in the event of her sad demise I should be her sole beneficiary. Therefore I have a vested interest in her eating. I smile as I wrap another box of Monk Bar Exclusive handmade chocolates (sold at a very reasonable £26. 55 a box) or, as a really special treat, for Easter I will give her a large box of Brent-Cartier, purchased via a friend of course, from one of the world’s most famous chocolatiers in Chelsea.
When Sue’s mother died, suddenly and unexpectedly, there had to be a post mortem. The cause of death? Myocardial infarction. Apparently, heart disease might run in the family. My my, what a strange world we live in, but hey...there is a slight problem. I am temporarily attached to 42 Commando, Royal Marines, based near Plymouth, that’s all I am prepared to say, and despite the fact that I only have five months to run after a six year engagement, I am soon to be posted. We are off again to Lashkar Gah and, to be honest, the posting comes at a very bad time for me.
My very close friend, and you can read what you like into that, is a doctor stationed at Lympstone, the Royal Marines Commando Training Centre in Devon. She’s Royal Navy. Most people forget that the Corps, that is, the Royal Marines, comes under the Admiralty, not the Army. Now, my C.O. has asked me to extend my commission: it seems I am good at my job. I can say no more on that or what I actually do, but suffice to say that the money on offer bears no comparison to what lies at home.
Myself and Dr. Carrie Howarth or, more correctly, Lieutenant Carrie Howarth, aged 26 and a graduate of Liverpool School of Medicine, have been secretly seeing each other for about eighteen months now and during that time we have been quietly ‘evaluating’ my dear wife’s wealth. (And health).
The cottage in Devon was the biggest surprise; more than half a million pounds! For a cottage! Well, I say cottage, it’s a sixteenth century Devon Long House, thatched, with a huge paddock and stables, set in twelve acres of prime grazing. It even has the quintessential
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