I wanted to sympathise with her, but inwardly I was elated that they had broken up. Rob had been my childhood sweetheart, later my boyfriend on and off throughout my teens. Jenny, my sister, had taken him away from me when I was nineteen. At the time, I was devastated, but I just shrugged my shoulders, saying that we were only ships passing in the night. Rob and I had been good mates, but he was always one with an eye for the girls, and I knew he would break my heart sooner or later.
Jenny was prettier than me; better at school, better at sport, in fact better at just about everything, and was always the life and soul of the party. I was the one left to pick up the pieces when her many relationships broke up. Oh the hours I had spent comforting her rejected boyfriends, and the endless cups of coffee!
It came as no surprise to me when Jenny and Rob had got together. The clash of the Titans, I thought. However this time I realised that Jenny really cared for Rob – she was different, as was Rob at first. He stopped looking at other girls. Six months later, Jenny asked me to be her bridesmaid. Two children and four years later, Jenny came to me for comfort when she found out that Rob had cheated on her.
In the meantime, I had found myself a much nicer boy, someone I could depend on; someone who cared for me as much as I grew to care for him. Life was easier that way, but I had always missed the excitement of being with Rob. He was such a charmer and had always been carefree and full of fun. He had always made me laugh, and I could never resist his cheeky grin as he teased me. I could well understand why he was so irresistible to other women, even at fifty.
Now here we were again for the umpteenth time, with Jenny in tears on my doorstep bewailing the fact that Rob had cheated on her yet again.
Jenny walked through my front door and into the hallway. She was too tearful to notice the coat hanging on the coat rail or the briefcase below it. She walked straight through into my lounge, and into Rob – in his bathrobe.