"She's a funny little thing: separated with two kids".

That was how I was described to Bear by the Churchwarden when  the organ broke down. It was Bear who 'looked after' several small church instruments when they couldn't afford to pay the professionals' prices.

"You had better be there to explain what's wrong." she told me, so, at the appointed time I arrived at the church with the children in tow.

Bear was charming in a sad sort of way and there was a kind of immediate chemistry between us. When the repair was done I invited him back for a coffee (we lived with my parents) and he accepted.

It was easy to talk to him then and he was even pleasant to the children. He left me with the impression of a sad and lonely man. However, apart from saying I should call him next time the organ went wrong, neither of us thought about further meetings.

Until, that is, some months later when the choir I played for scheduled a concert in a church with a small organ but no piano. Now I could get away with playing hymns on an organ but a complicated oratorio was another matter.

I called Bear to ask if he would play for the concert.

He declined but offered to help by turning pages and pulling stops. I gratefully accepted and this led to several meetings to practise - sitting side by side on the organ stool. It was thus that we became closer.

I was completely hooked by the time he let it be known that he wasn't actually divorced but his tale of the hard done by husband was completely plausible (at the time) and I swallowed it hook line and sinker.

We became inseparable. He would even meet me during my lunch hour at school and we'd go for a picnic in a secluded spot.

Eventually we rented a house together but the situation was far from perfect. His Jeckyll and Hyde character came to the fore and, although I loved him blindly, I was also very unhappy.

"So, why did you marry him?" I hear you say.

I simply don't know.

Maybe I didn't want to lose face with friends and family after spending five years of my life with this man:  maybe I didn't know what else to do - I certainly didn't want to move back with my parents and I couldn't afford a three bedroomed house to rent or buy.

He 'proposed' very casually by saying,

"Have you got anything on on Saturday 13th?"

"Yes, there's a concert in the evening."

"Oh, that's OK. I've booked the register office for 11 o'clock."

But that wasn't said with any sign of excitement or pleasure.

I can't remember how I felt - or what I said in reply but I know it wasn't the sort of reaction it should have been.

But I resolved to make the best of a bad job. (How foolish can you get?)