MASTER OF DECEIT

Gary left India in an awful hurry. All he said was, “I have to leave for the UK. I have a job lined up. You will have to follow when you can. Trust me”.  

“Why do we have to move each time. We’ve only lived here barely two years. You’re not related to Charles Sobraj, are you?” Gary looked at me with fire in his eyes.

I carried my son and held my daughter’s hand as we made our way through the guests at the welcoming party.

Craig, Cindy and I had arrived in London from New Delhi a week before. I was yet to meet all my husband Gary’s family and friends.

We found Gary sitting on the ground leaning on a woman’s legs. She had her hands in his hair.

“Lorraine, meet Angela”, he said. “She’s a friend of my sister”.

Two years later, she and I had become pregnant. Lorraine at 49, was 10 years older than me, refused to talk about the father.

“Are you sure you can cope by yourself”, I asked.

“I’m quite happy to raise my child on my own”, she replied.

We both had boys – James and Karl – born just weeks apart. We shared stories, Gary made sure James had father figure.

Sometimes I couldn’t help feeling a little jealous.

“She needs support”, Gary explained when I questioned him.

I felt sorry for Lorraine and for being jealous. After all I had a husband and family and she had nothing.

By 1986 I had two more children – Hudson and Scott. Our oldest was now six. The children adored their father and he loved to spoil them.

Gary decided to move again from London to Australia that year. Gary got a job with a tobacco manufacturer. I worked in a factory, while he did overtime to support the family.

Gary spent less and less time at home with me and the children. I worried how long he could keep this up – working these extra nights.

In 1998, Gary went to Sydney for a week on work. When I didn’t hear from him, I was furious. I asked him what he’d been doing, and he simply replied, “Working… I was flat out”.

After that day, Gary rarely came home early and some nights not at all.

“Where are you staying”, I asked months later.

“Why do you always have to know everything?” he snapped. “It was late, so I had to stay at a mate’s place”.

I knew it was my duty to support my husband, but his lack of interest in our family was starting to play on my mind.

“I was worried”. I pleaded.

“Stop nagging me”, he replied. “I’m home now”.

Three years later Gary turned 50. On the day of his birthday, the children and I waited for him to come home.

“Will dad be here soon?” Hudson asked at almost 10 pm. “It’s getting later. I’m tired”.

The door opened and Gary stormed in. “I’m leaving”, he said and walked into the bedroom.

Moments later, he came out with a bag, and, without saying a word, he left.

I went to look in the wardrobe. Gary had taken most of his clothes, revealing a box at the bottom of the wardrobe.  I opened it hesitantly and saw a photo album, some tablets and receipts.

“Perfume, flowers, hotels, I thought as I read the receipts.

“Viagra tablets”?

I opened the photo album. “Oh, my God!” I exclaimed. Inside was a series of photos of young women, some half-dressed. There was photo of Gary with a child. On the back were the words (James with Daddy).

That’s Lorraine’s son”. I said. Then it struck me, “She pretended to be my friend. All that time she was sleeping with my husband”.

There was a note that read, “When will you be leaving her? The baby is due in a month’s time!”

“Is this who he is leaving me for”, I questioned myself.

Then another bigger shock that made no sense to me. The letter said, “I will hunt you down and finish you. You have spoilt my entire life. I’m coming for you… I know where you are, Gary!!”

I contacted my solicitor, and Gary and I were officially separated. I found out later that Gary had a son before we were married and that his family and friends had known about it.

Gary had also flown Lorraine out to Australia and gone to Sydney to holiday with her and their son, James. He hadn’t gone for work, after all.

Today, I’m 74. I can’t believe I was married to Gary for 27 years. I’d always assumed he was working hard to support his family, but he was deceiving me all along. Could this be the reason we needed to be on the move ever so often. Who is this mystery person? And what does he want from Gary?

Finally, I recalled the school principal’s insinuating words. What was he alluding to when he summoned me to his office that day? And my fellow teachers; they were always mysteriously talking to me in riddles. Was it their way of warning me? Those bitches!... they knew something about all this. Or was it… only… about the son he had with that flirtatious, rich bitch… I now know had her son by him.

“Where has he moved to now? Could I even hope he gets caught!”? Perhaps not. After all, he is the father of my children. I wouldn’t want harm to come to him.

Exactly a week later, I received a strange phone call requesting to speak to Gary. He claimed he was from the telephone company.  I sensed there was something more. So, I told him he had the wrong number and hung up.

How long can I hide all this from his children. All they know now is that his new job is highly confidential. His life is in danger and therefore, needs to be on the move. And they will understand later I told them.

My only consideration all these last 24 years are my five children. However, sadly, they never mention their father. And rightfully so. For all we know, he must be rotting in jail somewhere, dead, or on the run like Charles Sobraj, after all.