My lover murdered by my other lover
It started as a bit of fun, but the consequences will haunt me forever
I couldn’t bring myself to end it with any of them
Picking up my suitcase, I took a long look around my home and swallowed the lump in my throat. Has it really come to this? It was summer 2016 and my husband Paul, then 56, and I were splitting up. We’d been together for 16 years, married for five, and we’d shared many happy years. But, admittedly, our relationship had been plagued recently by my drinking habits.
After a stint in rehab a year earlier, I’d soon slipped back into my old ways.
Hooked, I necked a litre of vodka every day.
‘You need help,’ Paul insisted. ‘You need to leave.’
And, all at once, I’d lost my home and my husband.
After a few months of sofa surfing with friends, I checked back into rehab. There, I saw a familiar face – Alan Maidment, then 36, a friend I’d made during my last stay.
He was intriguing, mysterious. I fancied him like crazy. Now I was single, our friendship escalated. We shared long walks in the evenings and passion in the bedroom at night.
Opening up about our troubled lives, we found solace in one another. But, though I saw a future with Alan, our romance was short-lived and, that summer, he announced he was moving away.
With 30 miles between us, our relationship soon fizzled out. I was devastated. But
I also knew my recovery had to be my priority.
In September,
I left rehab feeling like a new woman, only I had nowhere to go.
‘I’ve got a spare room in my flat,’ my friend Tom Jones, then 43, suggested. ‘That’s so kind of you,’ I beamed.
We’d met at a friend’s house a year earlier, and I thought he’d be a decent enough roomie.
I was right! We got on like a house on fire. Then, one night in January 2017, we ended up in bed together. And before I knew it, we were ‘friends with benefits’.
It was nothing serious, just a bit of fun. After splitting from Paul and the disappointment with Alan, I needed a bit of attention.
Tom definitely provided that – he was funny and affectionate, often buying me flowers and chocolates.
Only, just as I was adjusting to my new life with Tom, Alan called. He was moving to a new flat just up the road from me.
‘I’ve missed you,’ he confessed.
I have to admit,
I’d missed him, too.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him about Tom, though.
‘Let’s meet up,’
I agreed.
It wasn’t long before Alan and I were back between the sheets.
That night, going home to Tom, I was racked with guilt. But, somehow, I managed to reason with myself that Tom and I were more friends than lovers.
And so I stumbled into an affair. Neither Tom nor Alan knew I was sleeping with them both.
Then, in the New Year, when I thought things couldn’t get any more complicated, Paul phoned asking to meet up.
Walking back into my old home, I felt a strong
sense of belonging.
‘I’ve missed this place,’ I admitted. ‘And I’ve missed you, too, Paul.’ It felt so natural for us to get into our own bed and spend the night. My life had been so chaotic recently and Paul seemed to offer stability.
‘We should do this again,’ he smiled.
I nodded. But my head was spinning.
I was sleeping with three men who all lived within a few streets of each other.
I couldn’t bring myself to end it with any of them. Alan offered me passion, Tom gave me friendship and Paul, stability.
But, as the weeks went by, the stress of my predicament turned me back to the bottle.
One day in March, Tom and I had a blazing row.
‘I know what you’ve been up to!’ he shouted. ‘You’re sleeping with someone else!’
Grabbing a vodka bottle from my bag, he smashed it over my head. Shaking and bleeding, I fled the flat and ran into my sister in the street, who called the police.
I just couldn’t believe it. Tom had never been violent before.
He was arrested, but later released after I refused to press charges.
I made my way to Alan’s place. Furious, I told him all about Tom’s attack.
‘I wish he was dead!’ I fumed. After I’d calmed down, I said goodbye to Alan and went to stay with a friend.
Only, the next day, I woke up to a loud knocking on the windows and doors.
It was the police. ‘We’re arresting you on suspicion of murder,’ an officer said, cuffing my hands and pinning me to the floor.
‘Murder…of who?’ I stuttered.
‘Thomas Jones,’ replied the officer, as he led me to a police car. I froze. Tom’s dead? I was interviewed under caution before being kept in custody for 10 days. During this period, someone came forward and confessed to killing Tom.
In time, I came to learn that it was Alan. It had been revenge for Tom’s attack on me.
Reeling, I was gasping for breath, choking on my sobs. I knew my affair had been wrong, but I’d never imagined it would come to this.
Crippled by shame and grief, I hid myself away and couldn’t even bring myself to attend Tom’s funeral.
In September 2017, Alan Maidment appeared before Manchester Crown Court.
The court heard Tom was stabbed 32 times before his body was set on fire. But this wasn’t the first time Alan had committed a heinous crime. He was already a convicted murderer who had served time for another revenge killing.
Alan was found guilty of murdering
Tom and was handed a whole-life sentence.
In the months that followed, the guilt over all that had happened haunted me.
Yet, despite whispers and rumours from those who blamed me for Tom’s death, there was one person who stood by me.
‘You can come back home,’ Paul offered.
Now, I’m back living in his spare room.
We’re just friends, and I’m grateful for his support. Every day, I’m plagued by feelings of guilt and remorse. If I hadn’t allowed myself to get locked into a bitter love triangle with Tom and Alan, Tom could still be alive today. I’ll have to live with that forever.