Chapter 89

89

Corrine

Corrine lifted her uniform from a bowl of warm soapy water, wrung it out and placed it on the plastic hanger in the boiler cupboard to dry overnight. Her shifts in the restaurant kitchen had been increased to six this week but her employers only provided two uniforms cut from a material that trapped every odour of the food she re-heated. Every day, she hand-washed and rotated them so that she could turn up for work not smelling of burgers.

The hours were long and the pay was a little over minimum wage, but it was honest, genuine work and paid the rent for her Old Northampton flat. In her spare time, Corrine was rekindling her love of painting and pottery and, each month, she put a little money aside for the use of a small studio in a nearby village. She’d even plucked up the courage to enter some pieces into an exhibition of amateur artists curated by one of her favourites, Elijah Beckworth. He had responded personally and favourably and they were to meet via video later in the week.

Corrine had often used Mitchell’s discouragement as a reason for no longer pursuing her creative side. He made it feel whimsical and apropos of nothing. It was only recently that she’d realized it was unfair to blame him. He had only ridden roughshod over her interests because she had allowed it to happen. He had not been in charge of their marriage. It was one of many aspects of her former life she had picked apart since the divorce. In the end, it didn’t matter, because she couldn’t rewrite the past. She could only ensure she didn’t repeat her mistakes.

Weeks had passed since she had last spoken to Mitchell. After their initial separation, there had been limited contact through lawyers. And that was primarily to discuss the division of their remaining joint possessions following their house falling into the hands of creditors. The night before he’d remarried, she had, however, received an email from him apologizing for the way he had treated her.

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t the man you deserved,’ he’d written. ‘Everything that happened is on me.’

She had felt strangely relieved by the admission, as if a tiny part of her still feared that she had made him that way.

‘Learn from your errors,’ she had replied. ‘Or it will have all been for nothing.’

According to their children, their new stepmother Chantelle was the pushy sort, a widow and mother of two, who kept Mitchell in check. Corrine wondered if the leopard had really changed his spots and for how long he could play second fiddle to a much wealthier spouse. She and Corrine had yet to come face to face, but Corrine was grateful to her for paying for the children’s university fees.

Now and again Corrine found herself thinking about Maisy and how she had been dispatched from Mitchell’s life as quickly as she had reappeared. The last she heard, her former friend was moving to Germany to be with her own DNA Match. Corrine hoped that, despite the pain Maisy had tried to cause her, she had found happiness.

Corrine, too, had found someone she enjoyed spending time with, although as far as they knew, it was not through biological or chemical interference. Gregory was a handful of years younger than her and everything Mitchell wasn’t – good-humoured, spontaneous and kind-hearted. Being in the presence of someone with shared philosophies was refreshing. He was also a member of Freedom for All in the neighbouring county of Bedfordshire and they had met through their campaign work, culminating in today’s rally. Corrine had briefly considered trying to locate her soulmate through her DNA but ultimately decided against it. She had spent too long with Mitchell determining her future to have her genes making decisions for her. Her destiny was going to be her own making.

‘Mum, are you ready?’ came Freya’s voice from the spare room. ‘We should get going.’

Corrine looked at her watch: it was time. ‘I’ve never been readier,’ she replied, and she meant every word of it.