The Shell Wive's Club

Back in 1998, I joined the ex-Mr Tanya in Holland for what was meant to be a six month stint of him doing his computer consulting thing.

I was alone much of the time and had no friends. Mr Tanya on the other hand made friends easily with the people he worked with, and after about a month and a bit of our stay, he came home to joyfully announce that the company he was consulting for, a huge oil corporation, actually had a wive's club. I could make friends there! He had made a few enquiries and there were loads of English-speaking women - from the UK, USA and New Zealand - who were apparently part of this network. (And yes, the name of the club actually WAS the Shell Wive's Club.)

The name of the group did put me off. I hated being called a "wife" (no wonder the whole marriage thing didn't work out, eh?). Nevertheless, I was desperate for company, as I had already driven myself crazy for a month with only Mr Tanya for company in the evening, I agreed to meet whoever it was I was supposed to meet.

So, Mr Tanya arranged that we go mudwalking with this couple from New Zealand. The guy worked with Mr Tanya and his wife ran the Shell Wive's Club. We all got on very well, and I thought she was a lovely person. She seemed bright and intelligent. They had a six month old baby (who I believe was being cared for by a nanny the day we did the walk). We seemed to have similar interests and we all had a great time that day.

What I didn't realise was that this was simply a tactic to lull me into a false sense of security.

A week or so later, this woman (I forget her name so let's call her "Alice" as in who-the-fuck-is) rang me up to invite me for a cup of coffee in the town. We would be joined, she said, by another young woman from England who was joining her consultant boyfriend over in Holland. Delighted for some company, I agreed and got on my bike and cycled into town on the appointed day.

I was greeted by Alice and this tall, willowy slim blonde English woman (who, I ashamedly admit, made me feel a little weak at the knees). She seemed like a lovely, effervescent woman, who wore a ready smile along with her enthusiasm We were introduced and we ordered coffee. Blonde then explained that she was an equestrian vet (OH! even MORE attractive now) and that her fiance was consulting. She had hoped that by joining this network, she would make friends (as I did) and figure out what she needed to do to find work as an equestrian vet in Holland. "I will even do regular vet work," I remember her saying, "I just want to work and I don't want to rely on Mark (I think his name was) for everything."

I smiled happily along, thinking this was all very nice as I sipped my cappuccino and nibbled my Cafe Noir biscuit, when Alice opened her mouth and revealed the True Agenda of the Shell Wives Club.

"That's all very nice, Blonde," she said, "But we must remember why we're REALLY here." Alice paused - I think for effect - before she added, "We're here for our men. Our needs come second. We are supporting them and we must put aside our own desires in order to stand by them."

WTF? Was this 1953? Had I crossed over to another dimension? Did she just say what I think she said? Am I in Stepford???

I thought about all these zombie-like robot women being the perfect wife and docile and submissive. This was actually quite scary. I then saw a vision of myself as a Stepford Zombie Woman with a cheery smile fixed to my face, my hair always perfect and always willing to submit to my husband's desires. A song called Nobody's Wife, which was popular in Holland at the time, began to play on a loop in my head.

Suddenly my biscuit turned to cardboard. I looked over at Blonde. There was a quiet shock about her now. No smile. No bubbly enthusiasm. "With due respect," she said after a time, "I am a vet. A professional. I have a career, which I would like to develop irrespective of whether I am in England or Holland."

"We put that aside for our men," said (who-the-fuck-is) Alice. "You can have a career later. Once your kids are grown."

The flicker of emotion across Blonde's face was very subtle, but I caught it. It was a mixture of disgust, anger and pity all thrown together and it was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. "I am sure, " she said with a smile, "I will discuss this with Mark." She swallowed what was left of her coffee and left.

Then Alice turned her gaze on me. "So," she said. "I hear you would like to make some friends." I nodded. What the hell was she going to do to me?

"Well," she said with a smug little smile, "That's easy to fix. Have a baby. A baby is your passport into any of the women's network of ex-pats. You'll make loads of friends."

The vision of Stepford Wife with Stepford Baby floated through my head. Horror!

That was it. I didn't even finish my coffee. I thanked Alice, smiled nicely and said that I didn't think the Shell Wive's Club would suit me. I related the whole sorry tale to Mr Tanya.

A few days later, he informed me that Mark and Blonde had split up and she had returned to England. I remember thinking, "Good for her!"

I reckon I had a narrow escape. I could have been a Shell Wife.