CHAPTER 14
Until the early 1980s I continued to drive in rallies as much as possible despite my husband referring to my endeavours as ‘ego trips’. It was inevitable that his jealousy of me and my career would lead to the relationship ending. Despite all I had been through, I am sorry to say that my need to have a man in my life led me to yet another catastrophic relationship.
I wasn’t exactly surprised when I got the letter from Haiti in 1988, telling me that I was divorced from my husband. It was a relief that I was free of him, although Irish law didn’t recognise that until much later. He was free to marry again if he wanted, but not in Ireland. I was alone when that letter arrived, living in ‘Four Winds’, with my self-esteem at an all-time low. I had spent 20 years in a dysfunctional relationship and had little confidence in my ability to make a go of it with any man. My ex-husband had worn me down – some people learn from experience, but I wasn’t one of them. Not then, anyway; it took me a few more years of living to get it right.
The evening I met my second partner, I had just come from the Mondello Park racing circuit and was sitting in the Manor Inn in Naas, having a drink and feeling sorry for myself. A man came over to my table and asked if he could buy me a drink. He knew who I was, but I had never met him before. He was a stereotypically tall, dark, handsome man and I suppose I was flattered. As I sat, sipping my vodka and tonic, while he told me how he had followed my career and how much he admired me, I thought of my ex-husband with his new woman and decided that a man in my life would be no harm. Little did I know …
He told me about his wife and their marriage break-up and my heart went out to him. Although he came from a wealthy background, he was not financially stable himself. The job he had as a salesman in a double-glazing company didn’t pay well and he had to give part of his salary to his family. He was lonely, living in a small flat, and in my insecure state of mind I fell for it – and him.
It wasn’t long before he had moved into my house and our life together began. I loved having a man around, and at first I was happy with my new relationship. After we had been together for a few months, he came to me with a proposition: he wanted to start his own company, making conservatories. Being a salesman in the double-glazing business wasn’t for him, he wanted to be his own boss and make a good living for the two of us. The capital he needed for this venture was considerable and he suggested that I remortgage the house. Like a fool, I agreed.
All his grand plans didn’t work out as anticipated. At enormous expense, he displayed his conservatories at the Ideal Home Exhibition in the Royal Dublin Society (RDS) in Ballsbridge. That didn’t have the anticipated result and things went from bad to worse. As the business failed, his behaviour became more erratic.
It’s no wonder the business didn’t work out because when bills came in he put them straight in the bin without even opening them. You could always tell they were bills in those days because they came in cheap, brown window envelopes. People rang up complaining to me about half-finished or leaking conservatories. It came to a head early one morning, when the Gardaí arrived at the door and took him away. I didn’t know exactly which particular bill had been ignored, or why the arrest was made, but I managed to get the £300 together to get him released.
Shortly after that, I suffered the humiliation of my name appearing in Stubbs Gazette, the publication that provides details of insolvencies and court actions taken against businesses in Ireland. An article appeared about the two of us in the Phoenix magazine, whose mission it is to ‘inform, satirise, expose and entertain’. It is Ireland’s answer to Private Eye, the British satirical periodical. I am happy to say that the Phoenix blamed him for the financial shambles we found ourselves in, but I was the one left with the debt. Some people took great delight in reading about my predicament – how the mighty fall and all that. Not that I can remember feeling mighty, not in those days anyway.
The premises he had in Ballymount were up for sale but nobody wanted them. Meanwhile, letters and bills continued to tumble through the letter box and there were constant angry phone calls, some of them in the middle of the night. When the conservatories developed cracks or roofs collapsed, his customers wanted their money back, and who could blame them? I was paying 28 per cent interest to the building society on the loan and there was no money coming into the house; I was desperate. One day he simply said that he couldn’t take the strain any longer and walked out. He couldn’t take the strain! What about me? I was the one left alone, up to my eyes in debt.
The only way out was to sell my home and pay off the creditors. It was a really beautiful house on two acres and well maintained. I was sure I would get a good price but I had left it too late because there were now plans to run a road through my property and selling would become impossible.