On the doorstep: her face went white, and in a split second I knew it was true...

There was only one question in my mind.

I had to know the answer. Had Sarah Chilton betrayed me by colluding with my employer? There was nothing else in my head, although the things I should have said on that bitterly cold night in December are in {brackets}.

I knocked on Sarah's front door. There she stood, shocked at first, then squirming a bit. Months since I had last seen her.
"I've just got one question", I said, strangely calm now that my hands had stopped shaking:

She nodded: "Go on..."

"How could you do that?"

Her face went deathly white.

And in a split-second I knew it was true. My God.

My God.

She had betrayed me.

(EDITOR'S NOTE: she never thought she would be found out!)

But amazingly, she went on the offensive. Is this transference?

"How could you do that to me!" she shrieked, " 'Carrying-on' with a woman you shagged years ago!"

{What? This is astonishing.}

EDITOR'S NOTE: (bonkers!)

"'Carrying on'? What are you talking about? It wasn't like that," I managed to blurt out.

{Don't be ridiculous, you have manufactured all this because of your crippling insecurity. You have deluded yourself into seeing something that did not exist. And in your head, you have constructed this huge edifice of 'beterayal' against me to try and excuse your own behaviour.}

But she was in full cry now. From 0-60 in a split second.

"Spending hours on the phone to her every day," she countered.

{Hours every day? Who gave you that crazy idea - Angela? This is all in your imagination. What are you talking about, seriously? Do you really think I was being unfaithful to you? Speaking to an ex for advice and support when I was really under the cosh, was somehow wrong? You have completely deluded yourself. What a terrible shame. What a pity. What utter madness this is. You threw it all away because you couldn't stand me having a woman friend? This is insane.}

But I asked a different question: "Have you never gone to a friend for advice?"
.
She hesitated for a split second. But then we were off again.

"'Carrying-on' like that, with her," she screamed yet again.

{This is insane: 'Carrying-on?' 'Carrying-on' - a quaint old fashioned expression which had only one interpretation. I guess saying that to your family and friends, gave you an understandable excuse for ending it. "He was carrying on with her". They would believe I had been unfaithful. Clever. So that was the story you had invented, was it? You have managed to persuade yourself that me seeking advice from a friend, amounted to infidelity. The betrayal was just simple revenge, then, over something that your mind has invented. It was all in your head. This was insane. It really was.}

"I gave her up for you," I reminded her, the betrayal now slowly sinking in.

She hesitated, because she knew it was true, but nothing was going to stop her now in her onslaught.

"You've destroyed my life," she screamed. "Bit by bit..."

{Jesus luv, that's a bit extreme. Destroyed your life? You sent back my keys, you idiot, in a scruffy brown envelope. Have you forgotten? You destroyed it yourself. Destroyed your life? I don't think you have been sacked, had your blood sugars so low and so high you couldn't function, attempted suicide and been on a mental health unit for weeks. Have you? What was this 'bit by bit'? What does that even mean? Because I was slightly pissed off with the mess you made in the kitchen every time you cooked? Or that you could never load the dish-washer? Was it that prosaic? Or because I didn't have sex with you for a couple of weeks, with all this other stuff pounding in my head? Couldn't give you the constant validation you needed that you were attractive, desirable, wanted? Do you have no empathy, at all? No understanding? Just because I needed, desperately, some peace and quiet, without any dramas or tantrums? Or was it simply because I was depressed and anxious and unhealthy and you didn't like that?}

But "how could you do that?" was all I could ask, again.

" 'Carrying-on' all the time with her," she insisted again and again.

{Oh, this is pathetic. It really is. This might work with your family at least. But you're deluding yourself. I can see now, how you have portrayed it, to try and explain your own behaviour. But you destroyed it all through your own crippling insecurity. I loved you and you threw it all away.}

I asked again: "Were you seeking approval from Angela? Was that it?"

No answer. But she visibly squirmed in front of me. She knew what I was talking about.

"You're a psycho," I told her flatly, and cruelly, my daughter's verdict echoing in my head, as the realisation of her betrayal dawned. "That's psychotic behaviour," I told her.

Sarah stood on her heels and drew herself up.

"Let me tell you, I'm a very strong woman," she insisted.

EDITOR'S NOTE: Ohmigod, more delusion.

(Er, I thought I had destroyed your life a second ago? Not much self-awareness there. And if you need to say how strong you are, well, you can't be very strong. This is your definition of being strong, is it? Betraying someone who loved you? It's not being strong, you know, it's being weak. And cowardly. Fragile and vulnerable. I can't condemn you for that, but don't dress it up in a false cloak to hide your real self. And anyway, betrayal is not a strong thing for anyone to do. I think it shows weakness. And much worse. Vindictive. Nasty. Really the lowest of the low. Foul. How could I get you so badly wrong? Jesus, what a terrible mistake I made.}

But all I could actually say was "Oh Sarah..."

"Don't you 'Oh Sarah me'," she screamed and then she slammed the front door in my face.

{Dismissed again. Typical, her running away, yet again. Unable to even attempt a rational conversation. Demented. Mad, really.}

So that was it.

I trudged back to my car. My hands were shaking again, so I just sat there, hanging my head, trying to make sense of all this insanity.

Seconds later, I heard her front door slam and she screeched off in her mini, no doubt to receive the unconditional love of her parents. Or a new boyfriend. Running away again.

I got out of the car and threw up.

Then I drove home. And that was it.

Two well-educated, professional adults, eh?

Not good, I know. But at least I had an answer to my question. She had betrayed me, after all.