we really ought to try and give the marriage another go?’
‘Vaughan, stop it!’ said Maddy. ‘This is not a game.’
‘Vaughan, what are you doing?’ pleaded my lawyer.
‘If I’m the petitioner – can’t I, like, withdraw the petition?’
It seemed like a reasonable question. I hadn’t actually seen any petition, let alone asked any members of the public to sign it. But the judge’s patience had now been exhausted and he seemed at a complete loss over what to say. Even the fly in the light fitting went silent. Deep down I had been hoping for the judge to declare ‘This is most irregular, but, given the circumstances, this court instructs Vaughan and Madeleine to jet off to the Caribbean for a second honeymoon, to share a beach hammock in the moonlight and for Mrs Vaughan to fall in love with her husband all over again.’
Instead, he reprimanded my lawyer for not having checked whether his client actually wanted a divorce and declared that this case was ‘a disaster’. Looking at the time, he said he was faced with no alternative but an adjournment. We would return at a later date when, he said pointedly, he hoped we would be a little clearer on what it was we actually wanted the court to decide. Inside I felt a rush of elation, which lasted for just a split second as I watched Maddy burst into tears and then dash outside. She didn’t even look at me, but was followed by her lawyer who was trying to tell her how well it had actually gone.
Mr Cottington, on the other hand, looked utterly shell-shocked. He chose to say nothing at all to me; instead he gathered up his papers into his briefcase and just left, followed by his trainees and accomplices. The judge had already departed so I sat there in silence for a moment, trying to take in what it was I’d just done.
‘Well, I’ve been in this job over twenty years and I’ve never seen anything like that before,’ said the clerk.
I attempted a brave smile. ‘I just think we should be really sure,’ I ventured. ‘You know, before we finally cut the knot.’
‘Right.’ The clerk was straightening the chairs. ‘As I say, people are usually pretty sure by the time they get here.’
I felt embarrassed and a little bit foolish. Part of me had wanted to rush after Maddy, but I didn’t want to experience the angry side of her that I had just remembered. I sat staring straight ahead, wondering where I could possibly go from here.
The clerk had finished gathering her things. ‘That was the last case before lunch, but I’m afraid I can’t leave you in here on your own.’
‘No, of course,’ I said. ‘Only – would you mind if I unclipped this light fitting? There’s a big fly trapped inside, and he’s been going mad.’
‘Oh. Well, there is a maintenance officer … but, yes, all right. I think it just unclips on the side there.’
‘Yes, I can see it.’
And so I climbed up on a chair and released the light cover, and stood back to watch the grateful insect fly free. Instead it fell straight to the floor and spun around buzzing on its back.
‘Urgh, he’s enormous, isn’t he?’ said the clerk. And she stepped over towards where it was struggling, and the spinning and buzzing gave way to a final crunch as her big fat foot came squelching down on it.
‘There!’ she said, with a smile. ‘Good luck sorting out your marriage – or we’ll see you back here in a couple of months …’
Chapter 8
MADDY AND I are on a train. It is before people have mobile phones, because no one is shouting, ‘I’m on a train!’ We have not been out of university that long and approach the prospect of a long rail journey with a different mindset from the sensible reading opportunity that we’d settle for later. Basically, we don’t view this space as a train so much as a moving pub. I find the perfect double seat facing one another in the smoking compartment, which only adds to the bar-room atmosphere
.
As soon as we are settled, I go and buy
‘Vaughan, stop it!’ said Maddy. ‘This is not a game.’
‘Vaughan, what are you doing?’ pleaded my lawyer.
‘If I’m the petitioner – can’t I, like, withdraw the petition?’
It seemed like a reasonable question. I hadn’t actually seen any petition, let alone asked any members of the public to sign it. But the judge’s patience had now been exhausted and he seemed at a complete loss over what to say. Even the fly in the light fitting went silent. Deep down I had been hoping for the judge to declare ‘This is most irregular, but, given the circumstances, this court instructs Vaughan and Madeleine to jet off to the Caribbean for a second honeymoon, to share a beach hammock in the moonlight and for Mrs Vaughan to fall in love with her husband all over again.’
Instead, he reprimanded my lawyer for not having checked whether his client actually wanted a divorce and declared that this case was ‘a disaster’. Looking at the time, he said he was faced with no alternative but an adjournment. We would return at a later date when, he said pointedly, he hoped we would be a little clearer on what it was we actually wanted the court to decide. Inside I felt a rush of elation, which lasted for just a split second as I watched Maddy burst into tears and then dash outside. She didn’t even look at me, but was followed by her lawyer who was trying to tell her how well it had actually gone.
Mr Cottington, on the other hand, looked utterly shell-shocked. He chose to say nothing at all to me; instead he gathered up his papers into his briefcase and just left, followed by his trainees and accomplices. The judge had already departed so I sat there in silence for a moment, trying to take in what it was I’d just done.
‘Well, I’ve been in this job over twenty years and I’ve never seen anything like that before,’ said the clerk.
I attempted a brave smile. ‘I just think we should be really sure,’ I ventured. ‘You know, before we finally cut the knot.’
‘Right.’ The clerk was straightening the chairs. ‘As I say, people are usually pretty sure by the time they get here.’
I felt embarrassed and a little bit foolish. Part of me had wanted to rush after Maddy, but I didn’t want to experience the angry side of her that I had just remembered. I sat staring straight ahead, wondering where I could possibly go from here.
The clerk had finished gathering her things. ‘That was the last case before lunch, but I’m afraid I can’t leave you in here on your own.’
‘No, of course,’ I said. ‘Only – would you mind if I unclipped this light fitting? There’s a big fly trapped inside, and he’s been going mad.’
‘Oh. Well, there is a maintenance officer … but, yes, all right. I think it just unclips on the side there.’
‘Yes, I can see it.’
And so I climbed up on a chair and released the light cover, and stood back to watch the grateful insect fly free. Instead it fell straight to the floor and spun around buzzing on its back.
‘Urgh, he’s enormous, isn’t he?’ said the clerk. And she stepped over towards where it was struggling, and the spinning and buzzing gave way to a final crunch as her big fat foot came squelching down on it.
‘There!’ she said, with a smile. ‘Good luck sorting out your marriage – or we’ll see you back here in a couple of months …’
Chapter 8
MADDY AND I are on a train. It is before people have mobile phones, because no one is shouting, ‘I’m on a train!’ We have not been out of university that long and approach the prospect of a long rail journey with a different mindset from the sensible reading opportunity that we’d settle for later. Basically, we don’t view this space as a train so much as a moving pub. I find the perfect double seat facing one another in the smoking compartment, which only adds to the bar-room atmosphere
.
As soon as we are settled, I go and buy
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