Silke Harvey, 52, needed her husband, but he had other plans
WORDS: MISHAAL KHAN, HELEN O’BRIEN
Walking into the home I’d shared with my husband of 31 years, the emptiness echoed. It was still brimming with evidence of my life with Shawn, and I’d never felt more alone. All I needed was his arms around me, but instead, I wandered from room to room, noticing the items he’d taken, and also the ones he’d heartlessly left behind, as though our relationship had meant nothing to him. It was March 2023, my marriage was over and I had no idea why it had all gone so terribly wrong.
I was 17 when I first met Shawn at a Shakin’ Stevens concert in 1988. A huge fan, I’d flown from my home in Germany to see Shaky – my idol. Shawn (also a big fan) and I got chatting. And in November 1990, when I was back in the UK for another round of Shaky gigs, Shawn and I met up again.
YOUNG LOVE
We got on so well, and when my two-week trip came to an end, I admitted that I liked him as more than a friend. ‘I feel the same way,’ he said. Then he asked me to stay. It seemed crazy, but back at home, I’d finished school and was looking for a new start, so staying with Shawn sounded perfect.
My mum Helga, then 40, was less thrilled. ‘Aren’t you rushing things?’ she asked. But I had no doubts and moved in with Shawn and his parents, who were incredibly happy for us.
Shawn played guitar while I played the keyboard and we launched our band Flat Top Cats and started performing locally. We had so much fun and in May 1991, we got married at a register office.
I learnt to play bass guitar and for the next decade we worked as professional musicians. Like all relationships, ours changed over the years, becoming a lot calmer than the passion and intensity of young love. But we were happy, always together socialising with friends or practising for the next gig. And while there was the occasional groupie fawning over Shawn, I didn’t worry. ‘I love you,’ he’d tell me every day.
Over time, we played fewer gigs – they required a lot of energy – and by 2008, I took on work as a translator. Over the next few years, we spent more time in Germany visiting Mum, and she loved seeing us. ‘Shawn is my son, not my son-in-law,’ she’d beam. And he called her Mum.
Then, in December 2022, I got a call from Mum’s neighbour. Mum had been poorly with a bad cough and I knew I had to go and see her.
‘Will you co
