“Does Mrs. Delaine live at this address?”
Norma answered before I could. “I’m moving in today.”
“Have you lived here before?”
“No.”
“Do you get post here?”
“No. But my son said I could stay.”
And then Beckwith turned to my husband.
“Sir. Do you own this property?”
It is not a hard question.
And Ardan Delaine looked at me, and then at his mother, and then back at that officer, and said:
“Rowan. Can we stop embarrassing everybody, please.”
Not Mum, you’ve misunderstood.
Not Officer, my wife owns the house.
Not I’ve handled this badly.
Beckwith waited. “Sir. I still need an answer.”
And my husband opened his mouth.
And his mother’s face changed before he had finished the first word.
PART 2 — THE HOUSEWARMING
I bought that house on Oriel Street in 2016.
On my own, at thirty-one, with a deposit I saved over five years doing project work for a health trust, and a mortgage in my sole name that I have paid every month for nine years.
I met Ardan in the November of 2017. We married in 2019.
He has never paid a penny toward that mortgage and has never pretended to me that he has. We split the bills and the food and he paid for holidays, and that arrangement was mine as much as his and I was happy with it.
