Did my husband see the gleam in my eye as I watched him dither over this decision? A decision which, to me, seemed completely straight-forward?
Should he, aged, 59, take voluntary redundancy from his job? Put another way, should he give up the career he loved, as a chemical engineer, lose his identity (his words) and devote the rest of his life to pleasure and leisure? Or rather, should he give up his job and devote the rest of his life to leisure and pleasuring me?
Of course, there was only one answer to that, and I launched into descriptions of the lazy pub lunches, beach days and hotel breaks we’d now be able to enjoy together, to help him come to the right decision.
And I meant it. Kevin deserved a happy retirement, but who was I kidding? My real motivation was to have him at my beck and call 24/7.
After all, isn’t that what husbands are for? To chauffeur you around, tackle the never-ending list of odd jobs, serve as a willing shopping companion? So, with a bit of a prod and a poke, Kev agreed to retire. Job, as they say, done. It was fortuitous timing – earlier that year, he was diagnosed with cancer.
The news had hit us hard. He’d had a routine check-up after successfully being treated for kidney cancer, and we’d assumed it was more good news. But the scan showed cancerous tumours on his lungs, and this time we were told he wouldn’t be so lucky.
Even with treatment, my husband of 19 years, my soulmate and best mate, had just three to five years to live. As we grappled with the terrible news, one certainty occurred to us. Whatever time we had, we must enjoy it. I knew one thing gave Kevin the most pleasure of all – looking after me.
Believe me, husbands like that do exist. Last month, (former) town councillor Tony Hewitt made the news when he declared his wife’s Rita’s happiness was more important than his political ambitions. And so the Reform UK candidate stepped down from County Durham’s Ferryhill Town Council to allow his wife to enter an annual flower show.
While busybodies challenged Mr Hewitt over his decision to quit politics to avoid a conflict of interests, he replied with the words any wife expects to hear: ‘She loves her garden.’
And anyone who thinks this is a ridiculous accommodation simply doesn’t understand the intricacies of a happy marriage. Women like Rita and me are committed wives.
We ensure our husbands eat well, their clothes are freshly laundered, their underpants are perfectly folded. But that means we have high expectations of them.
Kev and I met 22 years ago and married in 2006. He is my third husband and I like to say third time lucky – for him.
The first thing he did when he retired was, at my suggestion, sign up for volunteer work, fixing bicycles for a local charity. I took early retirement from the civil service five years ago, and didn’t want him getting under my feet. But the hours had to suit me. As soon as I showed the first signs of being unhappy about how much time his volunteering was taking, he immediately slashed his hours in half.
You see, despite having a car of my own, I don’t like driving. Luckily, though, Kev does, so since his retirement has been on permanent standby to taxi my girlfriends and me to lunch, beauty appointments or trips to the theatre. Public transport? Not for me.
He even vacuums the car before taking me anywhere. Kev is one of those old-school types who takes pride in looking after me. He’s the living embodiment of the ethos ‘to protect and serve’.
My girlfriends never fail to remind me how lucky I am to have a gentleman like Kev on tap. As a wise person once said, a man without purpose is trouble; that’s why I leave him a list on the fridge door every week: whether it’s changing a pane of glass in the greenhouse, power washing the terrace or taking my daughter’s dog to the vet, there’s plenty for him to do.
Many will wonder what Kev gets out of this arrangement and argue he should prioritise his own needs. Yet he says his greatest delight is seeing me happy. Besides, I know exactly how to make him happy too. Once he clears his list, I make sure he gets his afternoon delight. That’s why he spent four figures on a lavish party for my 40th birthday.
It was held at a five star-hotel, with live music and 70 guests. I wore a floor-length purple gown and had a photo shoot with a professional photographer to capture the occasion. I chose everything, but Kev paid for it all. I’m proud to be a financially independent woman, but Kev says spending money on me makes him happy. He was previously married to an independent woman, and admits he felt at a loss with someone who prefers to do everything herself.
The secret to getting your husband to jump to it when it comes to outrageous demands is simple: he needs to think he’s married above his pay grade.
Don’t get me wrong, Kev is a handsome man, but I never let him forget I have received seven (yes, you read that correctly) proposals of marriage during my adult years.
Sometimes he’ll even walk behind me to admire my long legs (I’m 5ft 10in). He knows he’s lucky to have me.
And I’ve been lucky to have Kev. I can’t think about what I’ll do when he’s not here to pamper me, but until then I’ll keep him happy, and busy, doing what he does best.
- As told to SAMANTHA BRICK
