Several years ago in discussion with Judith my Northern Irish friend, she regaled me with the frightening details of her brutal reaction to the infidelity of the man she had been married to for thirty years, that ordinary run-of-the-mill husband in his late sixties who did not realise that he all but took his life in his hands when he betrayed her with a twenty two year old. Recently I was sharply reminded of the conversation when watching `Mrs Wilson’ on Sunday evening TV. Primarily this was because I was taken aback to find that the writer Alexander Wilson had several bigamous marriages over the years and at the same time worked for MI5 (or was it MI6?) so how on earth did he find the time? Probably he was simply very good at apportioning his time.
Judith had decided that it was the lying about it all that hurt the most but this was only when the dust had settled on the shattered remains of her union with Bruce. It was all those lies she said, followed closely by the unspeakable insult of him actually introducing the girl (well she actually called her `the hussy’) to various among their friends and family and the fact that they were all too gutless to mention it to her. But then her Bruce had not actually entered into a full blown bigamous marriage of course because people don’t these days do they? And you have to ask yourself how and when it was that bigamy fell from fashion – and how many men might still find it attractive if it had remained up there in the marital fashion stakes. I say men but you have to remember that women sometimes went in for it too though how frequently is hard to say. You can’t learn much about it because for obvious reasons nobody ever discussed it very much.
To be completely fair to Judith she had not launched into the story of the unspeakable treachery of Bruce completely out of the blue. It was me who half brought up the topic by revealing a similar betrayal involving a family member and how his wife had reacted in a manner that could only be described as homicidal and that women scorned should not ever be underestimated; hell hath no fury, etc.
Judith said that at least there was no question of a baby in the case of her own betrayal, even if the Taiwanese girl wanted one because he had been what she termed sterilised years ago. She made him sound a bit like a cat as she spat the words out then muttered that she only wished he’d been fully castrated to completely stop his little games. I was idly wondering if all those years ago the constant tears and recriminations of my poor mother might have been even worse had my philandering father favoured bigamy above simple infidelity. And then, with some horror I paused to consider that he might even have done so during his WW2 sojourns in foreign climes. After all, like Alexander Wilson, he was a devout Catholic and always chose doing Right over doing Wrong if at all possible. But how on earth would we ever know after all these years?
Judith said she was quite certain that her Bruce had never been a man who strayed previously. For one thing there was little opportunity because they were hardly ever parted night or day for years because of working together to make that infernal bloody business the success it turned out to be. But then you had to admit that Alexander Wilson had not been completely idle either – MI5 would have kept him reasonably occupied, not to mention writing the spy novels and keeping in touch with all the children he had spawned. Judith still blamed herself for buying him (her Bruce – not Alexander Wilson) the ticket to Wembley Stadium that cost an arm and a leg. It was the boys’ night out that followed that really did for him she confided. And what’s more she knew that there had been from the very beginning a number of his friends and their wives who knew more than they were later prepared to admit. And that only served to add to her vengeful attitude even though so called well-wishers were telling her to put it all in the past and move on.
It was then that she added rather unexpectedly but in a low voice that she would definitely consider planning a nasty sequel for her ex-hubby if she thought for one moment she could get away with it. After all he’d had heart trouble on and off for years and taking Viagra was not at that healthy especially in the quantities he was consuming it. I made sympathetic noises and I couldn’t help wondering if that well brought Mrs Wilson on the Sunday night TV screen might have felt similarly – I know I would. Few of us would be totally forgiving after all and I had it on good authority that the wife of the aforementioned family member had been almost blatant about her own frame of mind. Who can blame her? But did she ever put those late night Google searches on easily-obtained-poisons to practical use? Did the ensuing rumours really have any validity? Difficult to sort the wheat from the chaff because people are always going to gossip after an unexpected death aren't they? To be blunt, speaking for myself, I have never considered divorce for one iota over the decades but I have on a number of occasions seriously deliberated upon the idea of murder so who can possibly say?
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