Love Is a State of Mind: Nobody's Life is Perfect Read Online Free Page A

like that before and hopefully will never be like it, again.  I think I had every right, every f***ing right, though.  (I don’t normally approve of swearing – I tell my pupils it just shows that they don’t have a very good vocabulary, but sometimes, just sometimes, that word really hits the spot.)
    When I’d stopped shouting, prodding and pushing, I collapsed onto the sofa.  Gaz, by this stage, was showing signs of acute paranoia and had retreated to his bed, in shock.  He wasn’t used to us shouting – we hadn’t been a couple who went in for loud arguments and yelling.  We were quietly happy, until that day. 
    Simon Cowell was now smirking at me from the television screen in his smarmy, superior way.  Do I have the X Factor for shouting abuse at my spouse, I wondered?  A thousand percent yes, says Simon .  See you in boot camp, Anna . 
    David, meanwhile, had accepted defeat and left the kitchen.  I could hear him walking around our bedroom, above me; I assumed he was packing a case, putting a few clothes in one of our large cases.  He wasn’t a vain man, David; to him, clothes were of no interest and he tended to wear a collection of shirts and trousers, which all looked pretty much the same.  As my final sentence had been, “Well, if you think you’re spending one more night here, you’ve got another think coming” – he didn’t really have much choice; or maybe he’d planned this all along – to leave that Saturday. 
    Whatever the case, he appeared at the kitchen door, about twenty minutes later.  I’d heard him coming down the stairs, bumping the case down, so I was mentally prepared.  What I wasn’t prepared for though, was the feeling of love I still had for him.  It’s true what they say, love and hate are so intertwined.
    “Well, I’ll be off then,” he muttered.
    I stared at him.  I couldn’t bear the thought of me wailing, or repeating the performance from earlier, so I didn’t say anything at all, except, “ … have a nice life.”
    We stared at each other for a few more seconds and I’m pretty sure I could detect a sheen of tears across his eyes.  He honestly looked as if he’d just received the worst news you could imagine – not like someone who was going off to live with his ‘soulmate’.  He said, “Bye, then, see you at school,” and closed the kitchen door quietly. 
    The front door closed and I stared at Cheryl Cole’s face, wondering whether her life was as good as it looked.  She’s got the face, the body, the hair, the voice and now the French husband too – surely, it’s a darn sight better than mine, anyway?
    His parting ‘see you at school’ echoed round my head.  The thought of going back there was horrendous.  How many people knew already and how was I going to go about my day, seeing Suzie – seeing him?  I had visions of them walking hand in hand down corridors; of my colleagues whispering in corners – outright laughter by the kids in classrooms. 
    Have you heard?  Mrs McCarthy’s husband’s been shagging Mrs Barton?  She had no idea …
    My mind froze at the thought of all the looks and the ridicule – perhaps I could pull a sickie – surely he wouldn’t question it?
    On the TV, the panel of judges whittled down the hopefuls to the lucky few going on to bootcamp.  You knew which ones were going to be in the final twelve – we got all their sob stories. I’m doing it for me Gran.  I’ve wanted this ever since I was in my mother’s womb.  I want to make me dead grandfather proud. 
    Wouldn’t it be good if life was like reality TV?  If you cry enough, have a good back story, you get chosen.
    Well, real life isn’t like that, is it, Simon?
     

Chapter Four
     
    So here I am, a month after the big revelation.  It’s no easier – in fact, it’s getting more difficult by the day.  Marriage is a state of mind more than anything.  It’s been ‘we’ for so long … now it’s ‘I'. 
    Being single when