My secret crush!
Martyn crushed Anthony's car..
Monday 2nd February 2009
I swear I could have cartwheeled naked through the house screaming: 'Take me now, big boy!' and my fiancé, Martyn Wright, wouldn't have noticed.
After seven years together and two kids, Josh, 2, and Sam, 1, chances are, Martyn, 30, wouldn't have been at home anyway. All he seemed to care about was the plant hire business he ran.
With him leaving for work before I even woke up in the morning and staying late most evenings, I was lucky if we snatched a couple of hours together.
'Do you have to work late all the time?' I'd grumble to him.
'Yes, if we want to have a nice life,' he'd snap back.
But what was the point in having a nice life if we didn't share it?
So, last April, when Martyn asked me to help him out at work the following day, I jumped at
the chance.
'Will you take Anthony to Chesterfield Crown Court?' he asked.
My heart sank. Anthony Simpson, 21, had worked for Martyn for four years. As Hartington, where we lived, wasn't exactly a big place, I knew him too. I'd run into him in our local pub from time to time. And judging by the way his eyes lit up when he saw me, it was obvious he had a bit of a crush on me. Sweet, but next to my Martyn, tall, gangly Anthony was still a boy.
'He's been charged with driving offences,' Martyn explained.
Anthony had been pulled over while driving home from the pub seven months earlier, and wasn't allowed to drive himself to court.
So the next day, I drove the two miles to Anthony's mum's three-bedroom house to find him waiting.
'Hiya,' he grinned.
I gulped. Anthony didn't look so weedy any more. In fact, as he climbed in beside me, I couldn't stop looking at the muscles straining under his smart shirt. Naughty. But it wasn't like Martyn would care. We'd been engaged for 18 months but hadn't even planned the wedding. So I told myself it didn't matter as I made flirty small talk on the hour-long ride to court, where Anthony was banned from driving for 12 months and ordered to pay £865.
Of course, that meant he needed someone to drive him to work each day.
'I don't mind,' I said when Martyn asked if I'd do it.
So, the next day, I drove Anthony to a building site 45 minutes from home.
'I love this song,' I grinned as Don't Stop the Music by Rihanna came on the radio.
'Me too,' Anthony smiled.
Then he turned to me.
'You know,' he said. 'I've always liked you, too.'
I gulped. Anthony worked for Martyn. I was the boss's fianceé.
'I know you do,' I said, and turned the volume up so we wouldn't have to talk any more.
And that's what it was like for the next month, me taking Anthony to and from work wherever Martyn needed him.
'Good day?' he asked one day, when I went to collect him.
It sounds crazy, but that's all it took to make my heart melt. Martyn never showed any interest in what kind of day I'd had. A week on, though, he did offer to watch the kids so I could go for a few drinks at our local.
'Have fun,' he said.
'I will,' I smiled.
I just didn't realise how much. Because walking into the pub, I felt my heart flutter when I saw a tall, blond figure at the bar. Anthony.
'Hi,' I smiled, walking over. 'It's nice to see you somewhere other than in my passenger seat.'
'I don't know, I like having you as my chauffeur,' he grinned cheekily.
As we both downed pints of lager, I found myself standing closer and closer to Anthony. A little drunken flirting is harmless, right? Wrong. Because by the time Anthony walked me home at closing time, I was three sheets to the wind and feeling reckless. So as we approached my house, I grabbed his hand and pulled him behind a hedge. Before I knew it, we were kissing and frantically pawing at each other like a couple of lovesick teenagers.
It was passionate, fiery and… A huge mistake.
'We shouldn't have done that,' I gasped, scurrying into the house.
Slipping into bed next to Martyn, I was racked with guilt.
And after that, driving Anthony to work was awful. Awkward wasn't the word. We sat in silence, pretending we didn't want to rip each other's clothes off. But, two weeks after our kiss, I went out to the pub without Martyn again. And yes, Anthony and I snogged on the way home. I should have avoided him after that. Should have said no the next time Martyn offered to babysit so I could go out for a drink. But I didn't.
'Come back to mine?' Anthony whispered as we stood at the bar.
It was wrong, crazy. But before I knew it, I was back at his mum's, trying not to giggle as we tiptoed up to his bedroom. It was dangerous, but exhilarating.
Martyn didn't even cross my mind as I ran my hands over Anthony's body. The sex was hot and passionate. But afterwards, the guilt was unbearable.
'I'd better get a taxi,' I said at 2am.
Over the next few weeks, I was in a whirl of confusion. When I was with Martyn, I didn't think twice about Anthony. But when I was driving Anthony to work, and he was squeezing my knee, I only had eyes for him. He constantly texted and called.
'I love you,' he whispered down the phone one night.
'Oh,' I spluttered. 'Do you?'
We'd been having our fling for six weeks by then and although I told myself it was just a bit of fun, I couldn't deny it was addictive. Not just the sex, but feeling wanted.
Then, one evening in October, three months after our affair began, I put the kids to bed and turned in. I plugged my mobile in next to the bed to charge and was asleep by 9.30.An hour or so later, Martyn shook me awake. As my tired eyes focused, I could see his face was twisted in anger.
'What's all this about?' he demanded, shoving my phone at me.
It was a text from Anthony. I can't wait to kiss you again. There was no point denying it. I'd been rumbled.
'We've slept together,' I admitted.
Martyn's face drained of colour.
'How could you?' he hissed.
I started to cry.
'You're never here,' I sobbed.
'That's no excuse,' Martyn roared.
He was right. But as we stayed up all night talking, we just went round in circles. I couldn't stop crying.
'I'll ring the council to get a house,' I offered eventually.
'OK,' Martyn sighed.
I could see I'd broken his heart. Martyn had loved me all along, he'd just never had the time to show it.But it was too late now, the damage was done.I phoned Anthony the moment Martyn left the house for work.
'He saw your text,' I sobbed.
'I love you,' he blurted.
Anthony was 21. What did he know about love? This was all my fault, I'd led him on to fulfil my own selfish desires.
'It's not that easy,' I tried to explain.
Right now, I didn't know how I felt, and I had to think of the kids. So I called the council about finding a house to rent while I cleared my head. Anthony didn't go back to work for Martyn. I don't think they spoke or saw each other. After three weeks, the council found a house for me and the kids, two miles away in Biggin. But the place needed
a lick of paint before I could move in.
'I'll help,' Anthony volunteered.
So while I stayed home with the kids, Anthony's dad, Ian, dropped him at my new house
so he could paint the bathroom.
Martyn came home to say goodnight to Josh and Sam. Then at 7pm, he set off
for work again. An hour later, Anthony called.
'You won't believe what Martyn's doing,' he babbled.
'What?' I panicked.
'He's smashing up my car with a digger,' he said.
Ian had driven Anthony's black Toyota Land Cruiser round and left it outside my house before going in.
'I heard a noise outside so I went to investigate,' Anthony explained. 'And there was Martyn in the JCB.'
'Are you OK?' I gasped.
'Yes,' he said, ' but I'm calling the police. My car's ruined.'
Sinking down on the settee, I trembled with shock. Martyn wasn't violent, but his anger had got the better of him. And it was all my fault. Ten minutes later, I heard the front door open. It was Martyn, looking very pleased with himself indeed.
'You've been busy, haven't you?' I sighed.
'It made me feel better,' he grinned.
But he wasn't laughing when the police arrived. He didn't return home until the next afternoon, looking pale and dazed.
'I've been charged with criminal damage,' he said.
A week later, he admitted it at Chesterfield Magistrates Court and was given a 12-month conditional discharge. He also had to pay Anthony £2,500.
That same afternoon, I moved into my new house with the kids. It was a relief to finally be out of the eye of the storm. Looking back, I can't believe everything that's happened. Was it worth it for a bit of seedy passion? I'm not sure. But three months on, I'm happy being single. Because men, frankly, are more trouble than they're worth!