Spendaholic hubby!
Katy Hay's husband was not what he seemed..
Thursday 6th November 2008
One minute, my only worry in the world was deciding which biscuits to buy at Marks & Spencer. The next, my husband, Colin, had dropped a bombshell. It was September 2007, and Colin, then 28, had just picked me up from Market Harborough train station, in Leicestershire, after I'd got back from my job in advertising. We'd nipped to M&S, but just as I was about to get out of the car, Colin stopped me.
'We need to talk,' he said.
'We can talk later,' I replied, still weighing up the merits of choc chip cookies versus ginger nuts. But Colin shook his head.
'I need to tell you this, Katy,' he insisted. 'You know the police called round the other day, asking about my mate from work and dodgy credit cards?'
I nodded.
'Well,' he went on, 'it isn't just him who's in trouble, it's me.'
I sat there in shock as he told me he'd been applying for credit cards in fake names, had set up a fake golfing supplies company, and that he'd been stealing credit card numbers from the customers at the carpet shop where he worked and syphoning money off them.
'But… why?' I spluttered.
'I've been a gambling addict for 10 years,' he admitted.
Colin and I had been married for almost three years, and together for four. We'd bought our four-bedroom semi six months earlier, and I trusted him completely. When we'd first dated, he'd taken me to the casino a couple of times and had blown £200 on each visit. He had a good job, so I knew he could afford it. But it wasn't for me. So we'd never gone again.
But Colin clearly had.
In fact, he explained, he'd been gambling in pretty much every way possible, on the phone, online, at the bookies, in casinos, at the races…He worked near several bookies, and with me doing long hours and often staying overnight in London, it was easy for him to do pretty
much what he wanted. Like a volcano erupting, once the revelations started, they didn't stop. Colin calmly admitted he'd been putting bills in my name and not paying them. That he'd taken out credit cards in my name… I felt sick. He earned more than me, so he'd always looked after our finances. Now, though, as I sat in the passenger seat of our Ford Ka, it got worse and worse.
'You owe about £50,000 on credit cards,' he said matter-of-factly. 'I'm going to run away to Australia.'
I burst into tears. Was this a sick joke?
'I don't know how to cope with this,' I gulped. 'You can't make me face this on my own.'
In shock, I even suggested we went to Sainsbury's to get the biscuits.
'They'll be cheaper there,' I gulped.
Afterwards, Colin drove us home. Walking in, I spotted one of our wedding photos. Our day
at Rockingham Castle, Market Harborough, seemed like a fairytale. I remembered how happy I'd felt as we took our vows. How I'd trusted him …As the shock started to fade,
I pulled myself together.
'I'll stand by you as your friend, but not as your wife,' I told Colin tearfully. 'I'll never trust you again.'
Colin sat there in silence as I cut up his credit cards, then removed the plug from the computer so he couldn't gamble online. But when I tried to take his mobile to stop him placing phone bets, he went mental.
'No way!' he yelled, grabbing it back.
So I called the GamCare helpline, as Colin hovered over my shoulder.
'I'm cured now,' he insisted. 'I'll never gamble again.'
But I knew it wasn't that simple. The next morning, when Mum came round for coffee, I broke down in tears and told her everything.
'We'll get your brother, Paul, round,' she said. 'He's good at finances. We'll get through this together.'
But that night, when Colin started talking about running away to Australia again, something inside me snapped.
'You have face up to things!' I insisted. 'Write everything down and we'll go to the police, show them you're honest now. You're not leaving me to sort all this out on my own.'
So he wrote a confession and signed it. Words couldn't describe how furious I was with Colin, but I felt sorry for him, too. And I was determined to sort this mess out. I contacted the local Citizens Advice Bureau. Deep down, I was hoping we could somehow pay the debts off and keep the house. But when I got home from work the next day, Colin's wardrobe was empty. He was gone.
'How could you be so cruel,' I sobbed out loud.
What if I ended up taking the rap for all the debt? What if the bailiffs came? So I went to Corby police station with Mum.
'Before he left, Colin admitted what he'd been doing,' I told the officer, handing over his confession. 'I think he's run away to Australia.'
The police agreed to look into it, and all I could do was hope Colin would get in touch.
Two days later, he phoned.
'Please come home,' I begged. 'I can't deal with all of this alone.'
'You'll be fine,' he replied, fear in his voice. 'I'm not going to prison. I'm going to start a new life.'
When the phone went dead, my head was spinning. He hadn't even apologised.
Over the coming weeks, I began to realise just how bad things were. My brother, Paul, 41, took me to see a financial adviser, who said there was no way for me to avoid going bankrupt. So I had no choice but to pack my things, post the house keys back to the bank, and move back to Mum's. I was shattered. But it wasn't over. Without Colin's signature, the bank couldn't take back the house. So I was chased for missed mortgage payments, until, eventually, the inevitable happened and it was repossessed. I put an ad in the London Gazette appealing for all creditors to come forward, and the receivers worked out how much I owed. Almost £100,000.
'How the hell am I going to pay this?' I sobbed.
Then, when Colin's birthday arrived on 13 October, my phone beeped with a text message.
I'd really like to talk to you. My workmates have been great, taking me to the pub…
'How dare he?' I spat.
On 3 January this year, I was declared bankrupt and told that for three years, I'd have to give up to 75 per cent of my disposable income to the receivers. Just two weeks later, a message popped up on my work computer.
How are you? Colin asked.
NOT OK!!! I wrote back.
Well, I blame you for everything, Colin replied. He said I'd been 'unloving'. I couldn't believe it. I'd shown him more love than anyone ever had. I did everything for him from day one.
He had ADHD and some people found him a bit much to handle. I'd always defended him.
Until now…
I've wasted five years of my life on you and you're not having a moment more, I typed.
But, in August, I got yet another email. Living in Thailand, taking a gap year because I've done well in Australia. How are you? I'm engaged again. Can you send me the decree
absolute from the divorce? Because I can't get married twice. Colin P.S. I'm in the clear with the police!
It was so smug, I just stared at it in disbelief. But I've spoken to the sergeant in charge of the case against Colin, and he isn't in the clear.
So at the moment, I'm still waiting for him to come back and face the music. I have no love left for Colin. In fact, I hate him for what he's done to me and both our families. I've got to know his dad better since Colin disappeared. They had barely spoken in years, and I learned that was because Colin had stolen from him, too. I'm determined he won't get away with everything he's done. And while I might be paying at the moment, his day will come, believe me.