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The devil of the dancefloor

My fella was making more than just nightclub music...


Published by: Paul Carter & laura Hinton
Published on: 18th August 2011

The floorboards creaked as my boyfriend John crept into our bedroom. ‘I’m awake,’ I whispered softly.
‘Sorry,’ he said quietly, slipping under the covers next to me.
Three nights a week, John worked as a DJ, getting home at 2am. Still, I didn’t mind when he woke me – I loved a quick cuddle under the sheets before drifting back to sleep.
Nestled in his arms, I caught the faint whiff of perfume, and smiled. John was always being mobbed by drunken women demanding he play their favourite tunes – I should know, I’d been one of them.
Catching sight of his auburn hair and deep-blue eyes across a dancefloor, I’d fallen for him.
We’d hit it off instantly and, within weeks, moved in together.
That was eight years ago, and I’d gone from party animal to mum-of-two.
While John worked in the nightclubs, I looked after our boys Bobby, four, and John, three. And things were only going to get busier, because I was four months pregnant with a baby girl.
We were one big, happy family. Except, sometimes, the kids missed John not being around.
The following day, I was dishing up a Sunday roast.
‘When’s Daddy back?’ Bobby asked, trying to spear a piece of carrot with his fork.
‘You’ll see him in the morning,’ I smiled.
‘I miss him,’ he pouted.
‘Me, too,’ I sighed. ‘But he’s working very hard.’
So was I, trying to get the house ready for our new arrival.
Monday morning, while John slept, I did the washing.
Picking up the shirt he’d chucked on the bedroom floor, I was stuffing it into the laundry basket when I spotted something – a red smear on the collar.
Was that lipstick? But what was it doing on John’s collar?
I was fine with girls leaning into the DJ booth to ask him for songs, but this was too close for comfort. Even if he’d played their favourite, this was a thank-you too far.
I shook John awake, wanting an explanation from him. 
‘What’s this?’ I asked, jabbing the shirt under his nose.
‘Lipstick,’ he yawned.
‘But what’s it doing on your shirt?’ I snapped, shocked he was acting so calm.
‘This drunk girl threw herself at me last night,’ he sighed. ‘The bouncers wrestled her off.’
‘Oh, s-sorry…’ I stammered, embarrassed I’d got angry.
My hormones must have been working overtime.
He’d dealt with over-friendly female clubbers before, was always telling me how he’d had to dash out of the back of the club to avoid them, or hide behind the bar.
‘Sorry, I’m just tired,’ I sighed.
But I shouldn’t have been complaining.
After our baby daughter Lola arrived, John started working an extra night until 6am.
I knew he was trying to bring in as much money as possible, but it felt like I hardly saw him.
And even when he slipped into bed beside me, I didn’t get a cuddle these days – he’d be asleep before his head hit the pillow.
It felt like we were living two separate lives. But I’d come up with a plan.
‘I’m going to buy Daddy a Blackberry for his birthday,’ I told Lola, changing her nappy one afternoon. She giggled, kicking her legs.
‘I can send him pictures of us, and email him,’ I smiled.
Plus, he was working so hard, I wanted to make a fuss of him, even got him a chocolate fudge cake – his favourite.
And he loved his new phone.
‘It’s got games on it, I can go on the internet, check my emails…’ he babbled. ‘You’re the best.’
It did look like a fun phone and, a week later while John was out at a club, I spotted it
on the side.
‘Let’s see what it can do,’ I muttered. ‘Camera, maps… uh-oh.’
Somehow, I’d opened John’s email. But, as I went to click out of it, I nearly dropped the phone.
Marital Affairs, I read. Be Naughty?! What the…
They were the subject headings to a list of emails filling his screen.
Shaking my head, I came to my senses and opened one of the messages. My mouth fell open.
Are you free Friday? one read.
I had so much fun last Saturday, another said.
But last Saturday he’d been working, and he said he’d been booked to play again this Friday.
Unable to see his replies, I ran to the computer and logged on to his emails. He’d given me the password years ago.
I knew it was bad, but I had to find out what he’d said.
I could never have prepared myself for what I found, though.
Hi babe, Saturday night was awesome, he’d written.
I can do Friday, he’d emailed.
There were loads of sexy messages. And, as I scrolled down, I got another shock – they dated back to before Lola was born.
He’d registered with these sordid websites and been cheating on me for months, even while I was pregnant with our daughter.
Now everything made sense. The smell of perfume on him, the lipstick on his collar, working longer hours – he was seeing other women, not fighting off drunk girls while making money for us.
Instead of playing records, my cheating fella was playing away.
Worse still, I’d bought him this phone, which made it even easier for him to plot his dirty dates.
I sat up and waited for him to come home, my blood boiling.
‘Are you free Friday?’ I hissed as he walked through the door, waving his phone at him.
‘Y-you what?’ he snorted.
‘Sounds like Saturday night was amazing,’ I fumed.
Suddenly, his mouth fell open.
‘Oh God. My emails.’
‘How many other woman have there been?’ I spat.
‘Only a few,’ he said.
‘Only a few,’ I mimicked. ‘Well, that’s a few too many. Get out.’
He refused to leave, begged me for forgiveness.
Because of the kids, I let him sleep on the sofa, hoping he’d tire of the silent treatment.
‘I’ve changed,’ he kept saying, sounding like a broken record. ‘I’m not on those sites any more.’
And I nearly caved in. But not taking his word for it, I checked his account again two months later… and there, in black and white, were more emails.
‘You’re a liar,’ I screamed at him. ‘Get out.’
It’s been a month since he left, and I couldn’t be happier. After dating a dirty DJ for so long, it feels such a relief to have changed the record.

• John Cleary, 36, said: ‘I’ll hold my hands up. I was out of order, but wanted to spice up my life because I was getting bored.
‘I was doing it for about three years and, until Kay found out, things were fine between us. I’m sure if she hadn’t found out, things would still have been fine.
‘There’s no way our relationship will recover from this, though.’
Kay Mitchell, 27, Nelson, Lancashire