Love Me Or Leave Me. Claudia Carroll

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СКАЧАТЬ bigger person here. But it was no use, two seconds later, her fingers were busily tap tapping away on her iPhone.

       From: [email protected]

       To: [email protected]

       Re: The last of your things.

       April 17th, 8.56 a.m.

       Oh feck off with yourself, Dave. What gives you the right to start having a go at me?

       Please understand that I really do mean it. If I come home to my flat (which I own, which is in my name and mine only, may I remind you), with your shite still littering the place, then I’m changing the locks and flinging the last of your junk out the window. The way I feel right now, I can’t tell you the pleasure it’ll give me. Plus it’ll certainly give the neighbours a right good laugh to get a look at your last anniversary present to me. Because FYI, a print of a red Ferrari is my idea of cheap, tasteless tat.

       (Look it up in the dictionary. You’ll find it right there, under, ‘Dave Evans: arsehole’.)

       About to board my flight.

       Don’t bother contacting me again till you’ve done exactly as I ask. And can you please stop leaving voice messages on my phone the length of a radio play? I get the message. But you know what?

       Sometimes being sorry for everything just won’t cut it.

       Jo.

       From: [email protected]

       To: [email protected]

       Re: The last of your things.

       April 17th, 9.15 a.m.

      Christ Jo, you really should take a moment to read back on some of your more stinging emails. Just take note though, this is the result of what we’re going through and how it’s affecting you. Even though I’m the only one brave/foolhardy enough to say it to your face.

      Ever stumbled across the phrase, ‘misdirected anger’?

      Suggest you look it up in the dictionary. You’ll find it right there, under, ‘Jo Hargreaves: nut job.’

      See you this weekend.

      In spite of what you think, I’m still prepared to work things out.

      Yours,

      Dave.

      (Your husband, just in case that minor little factoid had slipped your mind, my pet.)

      PS. Will now spend the rest of the day wondering what in the name of all ye Gods happened to that gorgeous, loving girl I married.

      Just so you know.

      Jo had just boarded her flight when that particular gem pinged through and was about to switch off her phone and let it go, when a sudden hot flush of anger swept right over her.

      ‘Misdirected anger’? Did Dave really say that? And had she been seeing things or had he actually used the phrase, ‘still prepared to work this out’ after everything that had happened?

      She checked the phone again, but there it was, in black and white. Then just as an air hostess made an announcement asking that all portable electronic devices be switched off, she went back to typing furiously, phone hidden under her coat, so no one would see.

       From: [email protected]

       To: [email protected]

       Re: The last of your things.

       April 17th, 9.22 a.m.

       Dave,

       Out of idle curiosity, you’re prepared to work out what exactly? How you can inveigle your way back into living with me? It’s clearly not because you actually want to be with me, so dare I suggest, because it’s nice and handy for your dole office? So you can continue to sponge off me and live the life of an eternal student, while calling yourself an out-of-work actor?

       As for all this utter crap about my ‘misdirecting anger’, frankly, you can take a running jump with yourself. My anger is pretty direct and well aimed, as it happens.

       You know what you sound like? A child who thinks every problem in their little life is everyone else’s fault bar theirs. You may have played the part of a head shrink in a show once, but that certainly doesn’t make you one. If you really want to psychoanalyse someone, suggest you start a little closer to home. Oooh, off the top of my head, say for instance, a thirty-eight-year-old man in long-term unemployment, who’s back living with his mother?

       Now piss off and leave me alone. Some of us have real work to do.

       Jo.

       PS. As for ‘this is the result of what we’re going through and how it’s affecting you’? Cop yourself on, Dave. You’re not ‘going through’ anything that I can see. Other than six cans of Bulmers a night, that is.

       From: [email protected]

       To: [email protected]

       Re: The last of your things.

       April 17th, 9.35 a.m.

      Dear Queen narky moody-pants,

      You know why you’re acting like this and saying these things. Because this isn’t you, at least, not the real you. You’re just acting out and looking for a convenient punchbag. So enter Dave, long-suffering husband, stage left.

      That is, at least, I fecking hope it’s not the real you. Otherwise never mind about your threats of wanting a divorce. I bloody want one first. So there. So how do you like it, when it’s thrown back into your pretty and freakishly unlined face?

      In spite of what you may think, dearest insane one, I still wish you love and luck on your trip and look forward to seeing you on your return.

      Because I’m here for you. And the day may yet come when you’ll need to remember that.

      Dxxx

      PS. You told me you liked the red Ferrari print. Shattered that you lied. Oh, the deceit of womanhood, etc.

      PPS. As for your vitriolic comment re: my employment status, you know I could be in a job right now if I wanted to be. I’ll have you know, dearest one, that I was offered a telly commercial only last week, playing the part of a speaking Sky Plus box, but chose to take the principled stand of telling the casting director where he could go and shove it. Because in spite of your oft-repeated СКАЧАТЬ