Bad news comes creeping in, just when you’re thinking that life is pretty good and worth the effort of keeping alive, even if a black hole had opened up in his bank account.
John read the letter again, as though re-reading the words over and over, might somehow change their meaning:
“Sorry but there is no other way of putting it. I don’t want to see you again. I don’t want you to communicate or ask others to intervene. We are finished. I don’t love you anymore. I know it’s cruel to tell you this way, but it’s for the best and, in the long run, kinder. I could not cope with your pleading, as happened so many times before. I enclose a cheque to the value of the ring you gave me. Well, near enough the value. I don’t see why I should pay the VAT. I have become attached to the ring, even if not to you.” Zara had signed it with a mere squiggle.
Suddenly, John realised the irony of his position. He had lost the woman he adored but gained the means to pay off the heavy debt that was dragging him into liquidation of his only asset — A ripe-for-breeding female English Bulldog — his adorable Winnie.
A broad grin spread across his face. “Come on, Winnie Luv. Let’s go walkies. Just as well she’s buggered off. One wrinkly bitch is as much as I can handle.”