Is divorce 'contagious'? Royal family proof of domino effect

The Queen's grandson Peter Phillips recently announced his divorce from his wife Autumn. Photo / Getty Images

My heart went out to the Royal family this week, as the latest divorce was announced. Hot on the heels of the Queen's grandson, Peter Phillips, announcing his split from wife Autumn, it has now emerged that Princess Margaret's son, the Earl of Snowdon, is set to divorce his wife, Serena.

Both are children of divorce themselves – as, of course, are Princes William and Harry, and Princesses Beatrice and Eugenie. Theirs is a family that rapidly seems to be accumulating more separated couples than happily married ones.

It's sad to see, particularly because my own family has also suffered from the domino divorce effect.

My parents were unhappily married and split in the Eighties, when my siblings and I were in our teens. It had a huge effect on us – my brother Ian* chose to live with my dad, and my sister Clare* and I stayed with Mum. I suppose they thought that was best, but it meant we saw negative effects on both parents up close. Dad had a midlife crisis and was always bringing women home, while Mum became very bitter about men. When you're 15, hearing that they "only want one thing" or "will always let you down", has quite an impact.

My sister met her husband at university. Ken* was American, quiet, with perfect manners – so different from our father. Clare liked that he looked after her, and knew he would never be unfaithful. I think that's why she married him, but the trouble was, he was extremely dull. They had three children, but 10 years ago, she was so unhappy that she started an affair at work – "just for some excitement," she told me.

Of course, Ken found out and though he wanted to try again, she filed for divorce. I supported her through the process, and saw how she blossomed as a single woman. She was so strong, and relieved to be independent after years of moulding her personality to fit with her husband's expectations of a "lady".

The most unexpected effect, though, was on my own marriage.

Adam* and I had also been married for a decade, and had two daughters. At first, I thought I'd found my soulmate. Despite Mum's lack of trust in men, he was stable and hard-working. The problem was, he worked so hard we barely saw him, and I began to realise that I'd married a workaholic. His City job demanded all his time, and if he wasn't working late, he was flying abroad; missing birthdays and school plays.

I knew our marriage was in trouble – even when we were together, we had little in common – but he was a good dad when he was around, and having gone through a traumatic parental divorce myself, I couldn't imagine putting our daughters through the same. If I'm honest, I was scared – the idea of becoming a single parent, or turning into my mum, terrified me.

I was in my forties, and would lie awake at night wondering, "is this all there is?" The children would be leaving home in a few years, I reasoned, and then I'd pretty much be alone anyway. But seeing Clare flourish opened my eyes to how miserable I had become. When I told her how I felt, she was a huge support.

Prince Andrew and Fergie are just another royal couple who have split. Photo / Getty Images

She didn't encourage me, because she was aware of the impact of divorce on children – but she did point out that it might be better for them to have specific time with Adam, rather than seeing him whenever he happened to drift by. She also told me that clinging to a dead marriage for fear of becoming our parents was pointless. Her words hit home.

Around a year after Clare divorced, I finally got the courage up to tell Adam that I felt it was over between us, and to my surprise, he agreed. I wonder now if he was already seeing someone else. The children were upset, but we stayed in our home, and they see Adam regularly. I'd say their relationship is far better now than it was when he wasn't required to make an effort.

The worst thing was telling my parents – I know they felt that Clare and I divorcing was their fault, even though we reassured them it wasn't. That said, there are studies which suggest the domino effect is real.

One from the University of Virginia and Lund University in Sweden, in 2017, posits that marital difficulties can be related to heritable inter-personal skills – so if your parents divorced due to your dad's temper or mum's anxiety, you may carry those genetic traits into your own marriage.

Looking back, I certainly think that my fear of upsetting people has been inherited from my mum, and was a factor in my failure to tackle problems sooner. Clare is similar – which might partially suggest that the 'domino effect' is down to shared genes.

Other studies have long established that divorce can 'spread' between friendship groups, and that people with divorced parents have a higher chance of divorcing themselves. But it had never occurred to me that siblings could impact one another's marriages.

Yet a 2017 study by Delft University of Technology and Utrecht University in the Netherlands found that one sibling's divorce can affect their brothers and sisters just as strongly. "Having a divorced sibling is associated with an increased likelihood of having a divorce oneself," concluded the authors, citing a 21 per cent greater chance of splitting if your siblings have done so.

Interestingly, they found that the main causation was the 'role model' effect. As my older sister, I certainly looked up to Clare when we were growing up, while Ian was the youngest and more influenced by me. Perhaps that explains why two years after Adam and I broke up, my brother also split from his wife.

They hadn't been together long, and I think the family was pinning their hopes on this one lasting. As Mum said at their wedding reception: "Finally, somebody's picked the right partner."

But although they seemed like the perfect match, she was Australian and didn't want to have children so far away from her own parents. Ian didn't want to move, he'd built up a business here, and they ended up rowing constantly about it. In the end, she went back to Australia alone. He was badly hurt, embarrassed and swore he wouldn't ever get involved with anyone else. Divorce is always painful, but I feel that, coming so soon after Clare and me, it was a particularly bad blow for both him and our family.

In fact, a few years down the line, Mum still won't talk about it. Reportedly, the Queen has also been hurt by the domino divorce effect in the Royal Family and is "deeply sad".

That's the perfect phrase for how a family built on divorce can make you feel – as if you're doomed to get it wrong, somehow contagious and that your entire bloodline is damaged goods.

I do have hope, though. Clare is now happily remarried, and I'm seeing a man I love. Ian now believes his own marriage would never have worked out and is happily dating.

Yes, domino divorce can hurt entire families, but it can also show you where you've gone wrong, and point you in the right direction at last.

*names have been changed