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Yet in the rough and tumble of our domestic life, he will shout at me, eyes cold with fury.On the plus side, he's always been wonderfully inclusive with my daughter.I did not introduce them until we were engaged, four months into our relationship, so she, like Andrew's daughters, had to accept our marriage as a fait accompli.In the early days, I would literally feel sick every time he made the fortnightly, four-hour round trip to see his children, convinced they'd persuade him to leave me in our beautiful Oxfordshire home and move back to their seaside Sussex town.
I broke the cardinal rule a couple of months into our marriage: I criticised his children.
I remember standing in the bathroom, asking how could he bring up children who were never taught to write thank-you letters or tidy their room.
We had a furious row, and naturally he became defensive on their behalf. Because of my attacking nature, he began to creep out to phone his children on his mobile, speaking to them in his car, which created this weird energy of betrayal.
I have some sympathy with this; they felt we got married too quickly.) As we sat in a vegetarian restaurant in Brighton, I simply couldn't believe his alien, dopey smile and forced Father Christmas jollity.
I'd never seen this unctuous man before and I was, frankly, stunned.
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As a Left-leaning liberal, he didn't place great importance on education, and had had never once encouraged his children to do their homework or even read a school report. I, meanwhile, was an unashamedly Stalinist single mother, who believed in firm boundaries, discipline and tough love.