Ban the love-rat!
In happier times..
Thursday 22nd May 2008
Mum sat on the settee, head in her hands.
'I can't believe your dad would do this,' she sobbed. 'After 32 years.'
I glanced over at my twin sister, Caroline, 28.
'Maybe he'll come back,' she said. 'Realise he's made a mistake.'
My mum, Eileen Trench, 50, laughed bitterly.
'Why would he?' she snorted. 'Now he's got a fancy woman.'
It was February 2002, and Mum had found out our dad, Tony, 50, was seeing another woman, 48-year-old Irene Clark. She'd had her suspicions for a while, and, if rumours were to be believed, it wasn't even Dad's first affair. Distraught, she'd rung Caroline, who'd called me at the childcare centre where I worked.We'd rushed to Mum's house in Edinburgh and found her in a state.
'Do you really think Dad's been cheating for years?' I hissed to Caroline, as Mum sobbed her heart out in the kitchen.
'Who knows?' she shrugged.
What we did know was this wasn't the first time local gossip had branded Dad a cheat. Back in 1998, I'd been so worried, I'd asked him if there was something going on.
'Don't be ridiculous,' he'd told me. 'I've done nothing wrong.'
I knew Mum had heard the rumours, too. But she was old- fashioned and believed in doing everything to make a marriage work, so she'd turned a blind eye.Until now.When Mum confronted Dad over his affair with Irene, they'd had a row, then he'd grabbed a couple of shirts and left. And that was that.
'We need to talk some sense into him,' I told Caroline as we left.
So we drove to the Transport & General Workers' Union headquarters in Edinburgh, where Dad worked as an official.
'I'm sorry, girls,' he told us. 'But I don't want to talk about it.'
Back at home with my partner, Kevin Young, 34, I was livid.
'Dad's a hypocrite,' I fumed. 'And after everything he said about you.'
Dad didn't approve of my relationship with Kevin.
'He's not good enough for you,' he'd huffed when we'd got together in October 1999. The reason? Because Kevin was a divorced dad-of-two. When I refused to leave Kevin, Dad stopped talking to me, and we hadn't spoken until today. Dad had always been opinionated. And he'd always encouraged me, Caroline, our sister, Susan, now 39, and brother, Craig, 36, to be the same.
'Always stand up for yourself,' he'd told us. 'Fight for what you believe in.'
As a union official, he'd made a living out of fighting for other people's rights. When I was a little girl, he'd been my hero, even if he could be a bit embarrassing. He had a booming voice as big as his belly, and wouldn't think twice about complaining loudly
in a restaurant.
'Treat others how you'd like to be treated,' he'd insist.
Now, he'd gone and done this.
Looking back, I wondered if he'd caused a rift with me, just to distance himself from us all. Just a year before, Dad had stopped talking to Caroline, too, after an argument over a sandwich. Whatever his reasons, the family was well and truly split, as Dad filed for divorce on the grounds of irreconcilable differences. During the next few years, life moved on without him. Kevin and I had two kids — a son, Keigan, in September 2004, and a daughter, Keira, in January 2006 — and Caroline was happy with her husband, Derek, now 50, and their kids — Calum, 11, and Cameron, 9.
But Dad's betrayal hung over Mum like a black cloud. I heard through Craig that Dad had moved to Stow, Scottish Borders, with his mistress.
'I hope they're happy,' I seethed.
Mum certainly wasn't. Dad was still paying the mortgage, but she didn't have a job, so relied on benefits.
Caroline and I did our best to cheer her up. And in July 2006, she flew to Orlando, Florida to watch Kevin and I get married. There was no Dad there to give me away. He'd made his choices, and I'd made mine in not inviting him. Anyway, I was just pleased
to see Mum looking happy. I longed to see that smile again, but, 10 months later, in May 2007, we had more bad news. For the past year, Mum had been getting forgetful and she'd been referred to the Royal Edinburgh Hospital.
Caroline and I were with her as she received her test results.
'You're suffering the early stages of dementia,' the doctor said. 'It's possible you'll have total memory loss in five to 10 years.'
The three of us clung to each other and sobbed. I didn't think things could get much worse, but in March 2008, Mum and Dad's divorce finally came through.
'Your Dad isn't going to pay the mortgage any more,' Mum said, not long after. 'And I have to pay him £20,000 as his share of the house.'
'What?' I gasped.
Where on earth would she get that kind of money?
'I'll have to re-mortgage,' she said.
Caroline and I were furious. Over the years, Dad had cheated, fallen out with us, dumped Mum, and now, when she was ill and needed security, he'd put her in the position of having to stump up thousands to stay in her own home. Until now, we'd held our tongues, so as not to rock the boat while the divorce was still being negotiated. But now, it was payback time.
'We can't let Dad get away with this,' I fumed.
'Damn right,' Caroline agreed.
We needed to teach him a lesson.
'Dad always told us to stand up for our rights,' Caroline smirked. 'Maybe we should have a protest.'
'That's a brilliant idea!' I nodded. 'How about a leaflet drop to show everyone what a cheat he was?'
'Great plan,' Caroline grinned.
We uploaded some photos onto the computer and printed out 200 leaflets with the words: WOULD YOU TRUST THIS MAN?
'Dad will explode when he sees these,' I laughed.
But first, I wanted to make sure we weren't doing anything illegal, so I phoned Gayfield Square Police Station, in Edinburgh. Thankfully, we were fine.
Five days later, on 18 March, Caroline, Derek, Kevin and I trooped up to Dad's offices with 200 leaflets bearing Dad's ugly mug and the words: WOULD YOU TRUST THIS MAN? NO BECAUSE HE'S A LIAR AND A CHEAT. Within an hour, we'd put leaflets under the windscreen wipers of most of the cars and were standing by the front gates holding placards.
There was no sign of Dad, but soon, dozens of people were trooping out of the office to see.
'Come and see this!' one woman shrieked. 'It's Tony!'
A couple of workers tried to tell us to go away, but we knew we were doing nothing wrong.
'We shall not, we shall not be moved…' we chanted, until we'd given away the last leaflet.
'Serves Dad right,' Caroline said, as we all headed back to Mum's. But would she agree?
'Blimey,' she laughed when we confessed. 'I suppose he got his comeuppance.'
But Caroline and I weren't finished. The following week, we headed off to Stow, where Dad and his fancy woman live, and distributed hundreds more leaflets, before returning to his workplace four days later, for one final protest. In total we got rid of 800 leaflets.
I haven't a clue how Dad feels. We haven't heard a peep. Not surprising, seeing as the world now knows what a cheat he is.That said, Caroline and I do have a lot to thank him for. He gave us the confidence to fight for what we believe in. Sadly for him, that advice ended up biting him on the bum!
Eileen says: 'When I first heard the rumours of his cheating, I tackled Tony, but he said there was nothing going on. I thought we could sort things out. When the rumours started again, I confronted him, and this time, he walked out.'
Tony Trench says: 'I had an affair with Irene, and I'm not disputing there were rumours suggesting it wasn't my first affair. But I told Eileen about Irene — she did not discover it. I said to her: “There's someone else.” She said: “I'll leave the house,” and I replied: “No, you stay, I'll leave.” She changed the locks within 24 hours. As for me not liking Kevin because he's a divorced dad-of- two, that's lies, utter lies. Caroline and Pamela never confronted me at work. The only time they tried to contact me was before the court case. I have no intention of being in contact with them again. I find it despicable that they have gone around making issues out of something that's nothing to do with them. I want to be left to get on with my life.'