Brian Jones re-read the letter.
“”Would you be prepared to admit adultery for the purpose of divorce proceedings?”” He quoted. “Would I be prepared to admit adultery?” He repeated, emphasising the “I”. “No I bloody wouldn’t. I’m not having that. The marriage had broken down long before you and I started seeing each other.”
“But it says that if you don’t admit adultery then she’ll divorce you for unreasonable behaviour.”
“She’s the one being unreasonable, not letting me see the kids.”
“Yes, you need to sort that out. Perhaps you should see a solicitor.”
Brian ignored that piece of advice. “Makes me laugh,” he said, “she expects me to keep paying the mortgage and pay her maintenance, but won’t let me see the kids.”
“See a solicitor.” Shirley repeated.
“OK, OK.” Brian replied. “But I don’t see why she won’t just talk to me – then we could sort all of this out without the expense of solicitors. Bloody leeches.”
“You know why she won’t talk to you – because you lost your rag with her.”
“Damn right I lost my rag. She had no right to read my emails.”
“No, but you shouldn’t have hit her – that just played into her hands.”
“Whose side are you on?” Brian asked.
“Yours, of course. But now she can get a court order to stop you going round there, as it says in the letter.” Replied Shirley.
“She can’t do that – it’s my house. I’ll go round there whenever I want.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea Bri – what if she calls the police?”
“I’m not afraid of them. Anyway, everyone knows the police don’t get involved in ‘domestics’.”
“I’m not so sure about that either. Look, Bri, go and see a solicitor before you do anything you’ll regret.”
Brian knew she was right. Reluctantly, he agreed.