Hubby jailed for cheating

My husband vanished without a trace. When I finally tracked him down, I was in for a shock

Mahala Rigden, 53, Cleveleys

Stepping down the aisle, I looked around at adoring faces gazing at me. There were only 20 guests, but that’s all I needed... And the man of my dreams, starry-eyed at the altar.

Coming to a stop next to my security-guard fiance...pete, 30. ‘You look gorgeous,’ he smiled. ‘You, too,’ I whispered. It was 31 January 2000 and I was wearing a simple cream, knee-length dress and jacket.

Divorced once already, I wanted to focus on the things that were important, this time. Not the flowers or the gown. But our vows.

We promised to stick together. For richer for poorer, in sickness and in health...

We celebrated afterwards at our local pub, and then settled into married life.

But over the next year, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, a long-term condition causing pain all over my body.

The day I was forced to stop working, I was gutted. Pete pressed a kiss to my temple.

‘We’ll get by,’ he soothed. ‘I’ll make sure of it.’

I felt grateful to have such a caring fella.

Pete took on extra shifts and I saw him less and less. We were like two ships in the night...

The magic of our early days, flirting over the restaurant bar where we’d met, felt like a faraway dream. If only we could go back to that time again...

Instead, Pete worked all hours – tired, frustrated, snappy. Me, lonely, annoyed. Until...in March 2003, I was able to return to work.

Finally, we could get things back on track...

But just before Christmas,

Pete broke the news to me.

‘I’ll be in London with work for a fortnight,’ he sighed. ‘Oh?’ I grumbled. ‘OK.’ Two days after Christmas, Pete packed a bag and left.

We spoke most days, then in January, he announced, ‘I’ve decided to stay. Join me?’

‘You know I don’t like London,’ I scoffed.

Besides, my family were nearby here in Lancashire.

There was a long silence, the tension crackling down the line.

After a few minutes, I put the phone down, heart racing.

I hoped Pete would call again, tell me he’d made a mistake or beg me to change my mind. Even call to argue with me. Instead, days turned into weeks...then months.

Pete stopped sending money, his bills piling up. It was as if he’d vanished. I didn’t report him missing or worry. I knew he’d meant it when he said he was staying put.

I moved out of the home we once shared, changed my number, lost his... Years passed. I realised I didn’t miss him, didn’t need him, didn’t even think about him. I may as well

file for a divorce.

Nearly five years had passed since Pete had walked out. Yet I still shared his surname. I wanted rid of it. And I wanted a divorce. I just had to find him first...

Tracking him down on Facebook in 2008, I sent Pete a message. Don’t you think we should sort out the divorce?

Though I knew Pete read my message, he didn’t reply. Instead, he blocked me. With no other way to contact him, I put it to the back of my mind. Every so often, I’d check for him online. No luck, until... Almost a decade later in January 2017… Peter Rigden was back on Facebook.

As I clicked into his profile, I let out a gasp.

He had a new partner… and a kid! Seething, I fired off a message.

Seeing you’ve got a new life and all, shouldn’t we sort out our divorce? Again, Pete didn’t reply. But in June, a message dropped in my inbox from a stranger called Sarah. How do you know Peter Rigden? I shot back: I’m his wife!

She didn’t believe me. No wonder! Sarah told me Pete was married to another woman, called Rachel.

But he was still married to me! Sarah rang me. ‘No way,’ she said. ‘This can’t be true. His wife was Rachel.’

‘You contacted me, remember?’ I spat. ‘Why would I lie?’

I e-mailed Sarah a copy of our marriage certificate. She realised I was telling the truth. ‘Why do you care? I asked. There was a pause, then... ‘I’m his girlfriend,’ she said

sheepishly. ‘We live together.’

Not only was he still married to me, he’d married Rachel, and was now with Sarah!

He’d met Rachel in 2006, married her in 2007. Eleven years of lies!

Worse than being a rat, Pete was a criminal.

He’d broken the law marrying Rachel before we’d divorced. A bigamist.

I couldn’t reach him, but I knew the long arm of someone who could…

I marched to the local police station and told them everything.

In July 2018, Peter Rigden appeared at Portsmouth Magistrates Court, pleaded guilty to bigamy.

He was sentenced to six months behind bars and issued a 12-month post-sentence supervision order.

He never apologised, never had the courage to. It wouldn’t have made a difference. The damage was done.

I’m still waiting for our divorce to come through – but, with his conviction, I’ve been able to apply for one without his involvement.

It’s costing me £600, but I need to be rid of him, once and for all.

Yet Pete’s actions will continue to haunt me.

What he did has caused me huge pain, in my heart, my mind and my body, too.

I suffer joint pain, have violent headaches.

Worse still, Pete has stolen my trust.

I doubt I’ll ever risk falling in love again.

I only hope by shopping my husband to the police, no other woman will fall victim to his web of lies.

Even worse than being a rat, he was a criminal...