I don’t know how many times I was told in confidence by one seeming friend after another about Len’s affairs with local women, but always he would deny and then admit his so-called weakness. He would beg forgiveness and swear he loved only me and the children, and I would forgive him, fool that I was. We would be fine for a few months, then it would start again. Finally one night he didn’t come home, and a note was placed in the mailbox. Gone to London to seek work, he said, having got the sack as Commons Keeper. Later I found out the husband of one of his lady friends had discovered the pair together and threatened to kill Len, after going to the Town Council to insist he be fired.
The children and I were left with no means of support, and so I put it about that I was once more in the seamstress business. At first a few friends came to me out of pity, but soon I developed a reputation for skilled work of excellent quality. It was enough to keep us.
Eventually I received a letter from Len, full of remorse, but containing some money. He was working as a Hoover salesman in London, and he would send us money as he could. He wasn’t all bad, but he was weak,
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