Romance? Don’t make me laugh!
By the time I hit my 40s, I’d given up looking for Mr Right. Mr Reliable was all I was after.
Enter Greg, 32. With his steady job and placid personality, he was safe, solid.
Perfect.
‘I’ll take care of you,’ he’d promised when we’d met in March 1998.
As a single mum of three, that meant more than any flowers or chocolates.
We married six months later.
Only his ex-wife, Michelle, wanted child maintenance, for their two kids.
Fair enough. But with five kids to provide for, we were £1,600 behind every month.
Three months later, I called Michelle. We were amicable, despite her grievances with Greg.
‘We can’t afford maintenance payments,’ I said.
‘I don’t want to punish you, but watch Greg’s spending,’…
