Penelope Hartford-Davis, 69, from Tasmania shares her real life story…
My hands hovered nervously over my computer’s keyboard.
Is this really a good idea? I wondered.
I hadn’t exactly had a good track record with men.
My first husband died, my second was abusive, and my third ran off with a woman 25 years younger than him.
But I was 54 and didn’t want to spend the rest of my life alone.
Besides, this was a Christian dating site.
I was hardly going to meet a creep, was I?
I uploaded my photo and soon started chatting with a good-looking divorced man called Mark Ludemann.
We spoke for hours over the phone, and he was the perfect gentleman, the polar opposite of all my exes.
“We’re going to grow old together,” he said, as we sat out on our veranda.
I flew to Sydney a month later to meet him and he proposed the day after we met.
He moved to Tasmania to live with me, and we married that summer.
“We’re going to grow old together,” he said, as we sat out on our veranda.
“They’re going to bring us our meals on wheels, and we’ll still be making love in our old age.”
He was a kind husband, very helpful around the house.
And he was a great comfort to me when I worried about my son James.
James lived in London, but we had a fractious relationship.
He had attention deficit disorder, schizophrenia and bipolar disorder and by the time he hit his teens, he was addicted to drugs.
“He’s a good guy, Mum,” James said to me. “I like him.”
I tried many times to get him off them, sending him to expensive rehabs but it never helped. When he turned 18, he moved to London.
I flew out to see him, but it was obvious he didn’t want me around.
He clearly blamed me for a lot of his problems and whenever I tried to help he pushed me away.
At one point, I heard he was homeless. That’s a hard thing to accept as a mum.
Eventually, he managed to turn his life around and came off the drugs.
We’d reconnected, and I was so proud of him.
He flew out to Australia to promote the book and spent Christmas with us, meeting Mark for the first time.
“He’s a good guy, Mum,” James said to me. “I like him.”
Mark and I Skyped him often when he went back to London and met his girlfriend Kirsty, 29, online.
“I tried to be nice to her, introducing her to my friends and she called me Mum, which was sweet.”
Then one day I doubled up in agony on the loo.
Mark rushed me to a hospital where it was discovered I had a twisted bowel. I had to have a big operation.
My recovery was going to be slow and by now Mark had an IT job and couldn’t take time off.
“I’m going to send out my most precious possession to come and look after you,” James said when we spoke afterwards, referring to Kirsty.
I was touched and looking forward to getting to know her better but when Mark and I went to pick her up from Hobart airport, she was drunk as a skunk.
“That’s a bit off,” I said to Mark.
For that whole week while I limped around in my dressing gown she mooched around, either staring at her phone or going shopping.
I tried to be nice to her, introducing her to my friends and she called me Mum, which was sweet.
But then, when James arrived, the two of them went out the whole time.
“So much for looking after me,” I grumbled to Mark.
“So much for looking after me,” I grumbled to Mark.
Shortly after they went back to the UK, Kirsty rang me.
“I want to come back to Australia,” she said.
She told me she and James were going through a rough patch and she was going to tell him she was in Spain with her parents.
I know what James can be like and I was touched she wanted to see us again so I agreed not to tell him.
Mark repainted the spare room and made a recreation room for her with a dartboard because she liked darts.
He even left chocolates next to her bed.
He said he wanted her to feel welcome.
When she arrived, the two of them spent their evenings drinking on the veranda, which was odd because Mark never drank much.
Then, about ten days into Kirsty’s trip, I woke up at 5.30am and Mark wasn’t in bed with me.
On one occasion they went to buy wood and were gone for four hours.
I started to get a bad feeling and was counting down the days for her departure.
Then, about ten days into Kirsty’s trip, I woke up at 5.30am and Mark wasn’t in bed with me.
You won’t believe the incredible twist in this story! Things just keep getting worse. Listen to the Take 5 Podcast below to hear the end
