The House #1. Winning the right to the matrimonial home in the divorce.

I received an unexpected email from the solicitors office stating that the funds were transferred.  I replied “Oh, that’s nice, any idea of a completion date?” and they said “as far as I am concerned, the house is now yours”.

I went a little pale.  Blood drained from my face.  I felt a little woozy.  Things we’d been hardly daring to hope for over the past 4 years were almost within touching distance.

I enquired after keys.  “Oh, yes, this is an unusual situation with no estate agents who would normally hold keys, I’ll try to track a set down”.

I waited half hour and then went to the solicitors office, it was a Friday evening after all.

Upon arrival I discovered that the contact has gone home for the weekend but that Mr Pollyanna Whyte would make a key available at 5 pm at the property, no sooner, no later, I had to attend in person.

This was not awesome.  Firstly, he was now in my house.  Secondly, we’d had no contact for 4 years, you know, what with the death threats and everything, a woman tends to stop staying in touch when a surprise child beating and wife hurting during the rescue narcissistic personality type (at best – perhaps with added psychopathic tendencies because he’s not really clever enough to be a sociopath) goes off message and starts behaving in an antisocial manner.

I am on the Police National Computer so if I call, they know who it is and send someone even if I cannot verify details so I thought I’d ask if they’d be so kind as to go with me to pick up the keys to prevent a breech of the peace.  Sorry, Nope, sayonara sucker!  Ok.

I considered waiting until the next working day, requiring Mr P to hand in keys to the solicitor and take it from there.  But then I caught my second wind after a little “I’m quite a bit frightened cry” when I’d tried to keep my act together but then a family member was nice on the phone and I had to end the call, and so I put on my big girl knickers and pulled up to the drive at 5pm on the date specified.

No cars were in the drive.

A sticky-note was in the window directing me to the neighbours house for the key.

No conflict.  Phew.

We had the keys.  By we, I mean me and Missy.  We had a home.

Now to find out in what condition the home had been left.

 

 

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