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Till debt do us part

I thought I was putting my money on a winner when I met Sean...


Published by: Polly Taylor
Published on: 3rd February 2011

Let’s face it, it’s never easy breaking up with someone. When I split from Tony, my hubby of seven years, I felt so lost. He was a great dad to our daughters Eva, 13, and Lydia, 11, and brilliant support when Eva was first diagnosed with autism at three.
I knew coping with her disability as a single mum was going to be tough, so thank God my pal Sean Donoghue, 43, was there to lend me a hand.
‘If you need anything, call,’ he’d said kindly when I’d told him me and Tony had broken up. Sean had recently split from his wife, so he knew what I was going through.
I’d taken him up on his offer, too. He’d been so helpful and always had time to listen when I needed to talk.
The more time we spent together, the more I realised how much we had in common, such as enjoying folk music and gigs.
Sean was a solid, reliable bloke. Soon, our friendship grew into something more.
‘I want to take things slowly,’ I told him. ‘I don’t want to upset Lydia and Eva.’
‘Of course,’ he smiled. ‘I just want you to be happy.’
And I was. After four years together, we were ready to take the next step. ‘Sean’s going to live with us,’ I explained to the girls.
‘Great!’ Lydia beamed.
Eva was harder to convince – her condition meant she didn’t react well to change – but after I’d taken her to see the four-bed house we’d chosen, she relaxed.
‘Will we be here forever?’ she asked, her eyes full of hope.
‘I think so, darling,’ I smiled.
Knowing how much I had to cope with, Sean agreed to sort out the mortgage.
I had £85,850 in savings from the sale of my last house, which I gave to Sean as my share of the £179,000 mortgage. He’d pay his half of the mortgage monthly.
It might sound like a lot of money to hand over, but I was an old-fashioned girl. Tony had been in charge of the money, I was happy for Sean to take on the role, too.
We moved in, and life carried on as normal. Sean helped me out with housework, and I devoted myself to making sure Eva was happy and settled.
But, bending to pick up the post a year later, I noticed something odd. Council tax, electricity, gas…all the bills were here, but nothing from the bank or mortgage lender.
That’s when it occurred to me. I hadn’t seen a single bank statement since we’d moved in.
‘Where are all our bank statements?’ I asked Sean when he came in from his job as a British Telecom engineer that evening.
‘We don’t get paper ones any more,’ he shrugged. ‘They’re online.’
‘Oh,’ I said, turning on the computer. ‘Well, can you show me them?’
‘Internet’s been playing up,’ he said. ‘I’ll have a go later.’
A month later, though, as another batch of bills dropped on the mat, I realised Sean still hadn’t shown me the statements.
Hang on… no need. There was a statement among the bills.
Tearing it open, I caught my breath. This couldn’t be right…
The statement said the mortgage still stood at £179,000 – not one penny had been paid off!
They must have sent an old statement by mistake. But the date on the top was correct….
As soon as Sean got home, I confronted him.
‘Where’s my £85,000?’ I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. ‘It’s not paying off the mortgage.’ I pushed the statement towards him.
‘I’ve put a freeze on our payments and invested it in a high- interest account,’ he shrugged. ‘We could earn some interest on it, pay off more of the mortgage…’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I asked, confused.
‘Because you had enough on your plate,’ he said, hugging me. ‘I was trying to look after you.’
Of course he was, he always had. Okay, he should have told me, but maybe I was over-reacting.
‘Fine,’ I sighed. ‘But it’s my money. I want to see the paperwork, please.’
The next day, Sean put some papers on the table in front of me. ‘These will make you joint account holder,’ he said.
Reading them, everything looked in order. ‘I should have known you only had my best interests at heart,’ I smiled, signing them.
Now I’d be able to check the statements, see just how much interest we were earning.
Yet weeks passed, and nothing arrived. What was going on? Every time I tried to speak to Sean about it, he fobbed me off.
But a few weeks later, he came home, looking a right state.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked, taking in his puffy, blood-shot eyes.
‘The money... it’s gone.’
‘Gone?’ I gasped, shocked. ‘Gone where?’
‘I’ve spent it…’ he gulped.
‘Very funny,’ I snorted. ‘It’s in our high-interest account.’
He shook his head.
‘It-it’s not?’ I asked slowly. ‘You’ve really spent it?’
I began to shake.
‘You’ve been lying to me this whole time?’ I whispered. ‘How could you?’
Sean simply shrugged. ‘What on earth have you spent £85,000 on?’ I begged, trying to meet his eyes.
‘Lifestyle…’ he muttered. Lifestyle?! We didn’t go out! Hadn’t been on a holiday in years!
‘I want you out,’ I told him.
Sean stayed away, but called constantly, begging me to take him back – there was no way.
Instead, I called the police and told them everything.
Officers told me £40,000 of the money had been used to pay off Sean’s credit card debt – they had no idea what he’d spent the other £45,000 on.
I was left a single mum, struggling to cope with not a penny of savings left. The worst bit was explaining things to the girls.
‘Sean’s stolen from Mummy,’ I explained. ‘We might have to move to a smaller house.’
‘But I thought he loved us?’ Eva said. ‘I thought we’d be here forever, Mummy.’
‘So did I,’ I whispered.
In November, Sean appeared at Derby Crown Court and pleaded guilty to theft and possession of criminal property. He was jailed for two years and eight months.
I never want to see him again.
I’ve been used, and his prison sentence doesn’t compare to what he’s put us through.
He’s left our lives in tatters and I have no way of providing for my daughters. All I can do now is to try selling things on eBay to make us some money. And for that, I’ll never be able to forgive him – or myself.
Anji Shepherd, 37, Milford, Derbyshire