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But now, the search is about to end.

Now, tell me, why would she have a set?

In the next purse compartment was a flash slim pink mobile phone.

Mmm. We both had plain cheap mobiles, without internet or camera, used basically to contact the kids. I opened it up. The phone directory of that mobile was full of entries I never recognised but then I didn't know all of Marlene's acquaintances, did I? I opened the image library next and whistled. Lots of pictures of a fit young man, many of them showing him stripped to the waist, all rippling muscles. Muscles on bloody muscles. The latest photo looked like a Skype screenshot, the tanned NCO in desert tunic, topped by Father Christmas hat, big happy proud-of-myself grin on his face.

Damn! He'd stolen my girl, Marlene, my wife of twenty years, mother of my twins, the woman I worshipped. I dropped the purse and phone on the counter. Loose change spilled out, including a tightly-wrapped plastic bag.

Intrigued, I unravelled and opened it. A pregnancy test, which read positive.

Marlene was having a baby! At forty-one, it was risky, but worth it, I choked, if you were deeply in love with the father. So, it looked like she had been having unprotected sex with a soldier for long enough to share the keys key to his flat and betray her infidelity on a pregnancy test.

I had my vasectomy immediately after the twins were born, we had agreed then, that enough was enough. So it looked like I'd shared unprotected sex with the self same Squaddie. I only just made it to the cloakroom as I lost my overnight sandwiches.

Washing my face, it was impossible to tell what was tap water or tears. My committed love for Marlene turned to involuntary hate. When Lance Corporal Ripped Torso returned from his six-month tour, I knew she'd move him into my house, playing happy families, and kick me out in the cold. The twins were soppy about babies, all girls are, so they'd be in her camp.

Bitter, was I? You betcha! I'd given her the best years of my life and I hadn't a clue what a mug I was.

Following our divorce, the results were obvious. She'd possess the family home all the while the twins were in further education. They only started three months ago and were bright enough to go all the way. I'd have to find somewhere else to live but still have to pay half of the household expenses so Marlene, her lover, and new baby had a roof over their cheating heads.

I grabbed a black sack and those new boots from under the stairs, stuffed them in the bag. An evil grin played on my vomit-tainted lips as I added every right female shoe to the bag, leaving the lefts as they were, as reminders of her infidelity. In the wood shed I chopped every boot and shoe in half. I felt empowered. Action, the universal salve of the disappointed man.

I used my tin snips to cut through the satellite and aerial leads, plus the cable network feed, which we used for broadband. Marlene loved her soaps. I knew that all this afternoon and evening she'd be glued to the New Year holiday omnibus editions. Think again, bitch!

In the kitchen I rechecked that purse. I tore up a photo of my handsome rival and flushed it down the toilet. I found a twenty pound note, so, with the loose change, I could at least half-fill the car.

I pulled out our laptop to check it. Excellent. No internet. Good. Her blasted cat was winding itself around my legs, probably wanting feeding, neglected while Marlene was sleeping off her New Year

Celebrations without my company to spoil her fun. I stuffed the smelly thing in its carry basket that we use to take it to the vets. Then I grabbed her purse and our laptop and left the house.

On the edge of town there is a beauty spot. Usually, it is full of dog walkers and picnickers in the summer. Now, early morning, still dark and freezing mid-winter, it was deserted.

I recalled that Marlene had called me at work on the stroke of midnight, from a noisy night club, drunkenly wishing me happy new year, probably using lover boy's pink phone.

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