Uncle Alfie, or Life Goes On…
Edward sat at the kitchen table, blankly staring at the wall before him. There was nothing interesting there, just as there were no answers to his questions. He sighed and glanced with distaste at the half-drunk tea in his mug, diluted to its last dregs. There was no more tea left, nor any money to buy it. Edward stood and poured the tea down the sink, rinsed the mug, filled it with lukewarm water from the kettle, and drank.
How had he ended up here? There had been everything: a job, a flat, a wife, a daughter… and now nothing remained.
***
Edward was fifteen when his mother brought a man home. She clung to his arm, pressing close.
“This is Uncle Alfie. He’ll be living with us now. We’ve married,” she said bashfully, fiddling with the collar of her floral silk dress.
Uncle Alfie looked much older than his mother, shorter and painfully thin. He studied the scowling teenager with calm indifference.
Edward wasn’t a child—he’d guessed his mother had someone. She often slipped out in the evenings, lying that she was visiting a friend. She’d return with a dreamy, guilty smile and smudged lipstick. Edward didn’t mind having the place to himself.
Everyone said his mother was beautiful and young. It was nice to hear, though Edward didn’t see it. She was just his mother—no worse than anyone else’s. But young? Anyone over thirty seemed ancient to him.
He’d never known his father. His mother didn’t like to speak of him. And now she’d brought home Uncle Alfie. Had it been so bad, just the two of them? Edward turned and stalked off to his room.
“Edward!” his mother called after him, her voice breaking.
He slammed the door.
“Love, he’s good, reliable—life will be easier with him. Don’t be jealous, you’ll always be the most important to me,” she said later, stepping into his room. “I’ll make us some chips for supper. Be polite to him, all right?”
His mother fluttered around Uncle Alfie, her cheeks flushed, her gaze misty. Edward burned with jealousy. Feeling guilty, she gave him more pocket money—buying his silence.
“Don’t be cross with your mother. She’s a good woman. You’re grown now. In a few years, you’ll have your own family—d’you think it’ll be easy for her alone? Exactly. I won’t hurt her,” Uncle Alfie tried.
Edward glowered in silence, though he knew the man was right. To his credit, Uncle Alfie never pried about school or asked what Edward wanted to be.
After finishing school, Edward announced he wouldn’t go to university—he’d join the army, feeling like an outsider now.
“Good. The army’s a solid start. Respect. You can study later, get a degree. Education matters. Serve first, figure things out after,” Uncle Alfie cut in firmly, stopping his mother’s protests.
A year later, Edward returned home, broader and more assured. His mother hugged him endlessly, laid out a feast as tradition demanded. For the first time, Edward let Uncle Alfie embrace him too. They drank as equals, and Edward, unused to it, quickly grew tipsy.
“So, what’s next?” Uncle Alfie asked. “Too late for uni now, term’s started. What can you do?”
“Let him rest,” his mother interjected, patting Edward’s shoulder.
Edward mentioned he’d got his driving licence in the army—could handle most vehicles, knew his way around repairs.
“Sorted. A mate of mine runs a garage. I’ll have a word—he’ll take you on. Decent wages, but you’ll graft hard,” said Uncle Alfie.
“I’ll take it,” Edward said.
A month later, he got his first pay and announced he wanted to rent his own flat.
“Absolutely not!” his mother cried. “Who’ll cook for you? You’ll just drink with mates, chase women—”
“Leave off, Margaret. Weren’t you young once?” Uncle Alfie cut in. “He’s right. Can’t bring lasses home here.” He disappeared into the hall. Returning, he tossed Edward a set of keys. “Stay in my old place. Small, but it’s yours. Got it in the divorce. Tenants are there, but I’ll ring—they’ll clear out.”
“Be careful with women. Don’t rush—choose wisely. And go easy on the bottle,” Uncle Alfie advised.
With that, Edward began his own life. His mother visited at first, bringing stew and pies while he was at work. “A lad needs proper food!” But once Edward met a girl, she stopped coming.
He and Emma stayed together nearly two years. Edward had started evening classes in engineering by then. He couldn’t recall why they argued, but they parted amicably. He almost thought she’d picked the fight to leave. There were others after, till fiery-haired Sophie. Men turned necks when they walked together. Edward seethed; Sophie teased.
A year from finishing his degree, fearing he’d lose her, Edward proposed. To his joy, she said yes. Right after the wedding, Sophie announced she was pregnant. Emma had been careful; Edward assumed Sophie was too. The news stunned him.
His mother doubted the child was his. Edward waved her off. His worry was space. A one-bedroom was fine for two, but a child needed room. He spoke to Uncle Alfie, who agreed to sell the flat. With the extra money, Edward bought a two-bedroom.
When little Rose was born, his mother cautiously noted she didn’t resemble Edward. “Black hair? Yours is brown, Sophie’s red. Born early, but looks full-term.” She suggested a paternity test.
Edward dismissed it. Babies all looked alike to him. Hair could change.
Then, coming home from work, he saw Sophie in the courtyard with a dark-haired man. They spoke like old friends. Spotting Edward, Sophie flustered, muttering about the man asking for directions. Edward remembered his mother’s suspicions but said nothing. Later, he saw the man again.
“Oi,” Edward called.
“What?” The man’s accent was faint but there.
“Stay away from Sophie and Rose. See you near them again, I’ll break your legs.” Edward had filled out, looming over the man, who hurried off.
Sophie fried cutlets in the kitchen; Rose played on the floor. Everything normal. Maybe he’d imagined it. But weeks later, Sophie confessed—she couldn’t forget Rose’s real father. He’d left suddenly; she hadn’t told him about the baby. Then Edward proposed. Now the man had returned, found out, and begged her to leave.
“Go,” Edward said.
He watched from the window as Sophie, Rose, and their bags climbed into the man’s BMW, disbelieving. He waited, hoping she’d return. Then he drank. Lost his job.
At an interview, he ran into an old schoolmate who owned a parts shop. Offered work. Edward accepted. Months later, a large sum vanished from the safe. The mate claimed Edward had seen him put it there.
No money was found on Edward, but the case was strong. The mate offered to drop charges for cash. Edward sold the flat. They parted bitterly.
He rented a dingy bedsit on the outskirts. No wife, no home, no job or money. His life was collapsing. The landlady threatened eviction if he didn’t pay. Where would he get it? His mother had died of cancer by then. And he’d forgotten all about Uncle Alfie.
***
A pigeon perched on the sill, eyeing him beadily through the glass.
“Sorry, mate, not even crumbs,” Edward said, approaching the window.
Sun flooded the courtyard; fresh grass greened; buds speckled the trees. Two toddlers slid down a plastic slide while their mothers chatted nearby. A teen dangled upside-down from the climbing frame. Edward stared, amazed. How long since he’d stepped outside?
He wanted one last breath of spring air. He yanked the window open. The pigeon startled, scratching the metal sill as it fled. Edward leaned out, chest on the frame. Below, shrubs and lawn greened. Jumping from the fourth floor likely wouldn’t kill him—just leave him broken.
His brain suggested alternatives. He fetched a shoebox of old medicines—paracetamol, aspirin, cough syrup. Not enough. Chugging them might wreck his kidneys, not kill him. No good. He eyed the ceiling light, picturing a noose…
He ran a bath. The mirror showed a gaunt, bearded stranger with sunken eyes. “Look like death,” he muttered.
A disposable razor lay on the shelf. He fetched a knife from the kitchen. As he turned back, his phone rang. Startled—no one called anymore—he answered.
“Eddie?” A frail, elderly voice.
“Yeah.”
“Uncle Alfie. Remember me?”
“Yeah.”
“Caught poorly. In hospital. Come see me. Need to talk.”
“Where?”As Edward stood by Uncle Alfie’s grave, watching a lone robin hop across the fresh earth, he finally understood that even in the darkest moments, life had a way of pushing you forward—if only you let it.
