Gwendolyn Jones owned a chain of jewellery shops in London. Her father had helped launch the business, and now, as a seasoned entrepreneur, she stood firmly on her own two feet. At forty, she attended highsociety galas, graced the glossy covers of magazines, and counted Londons actors, singers and barristers among her acquaintances. She raised her son James, and everything seemed under control. The one thing missing from her wellordered life was love, and she often felt a profound loneliness in her spacious fivebedroom house, wondering how different things could have been.
As a child, Gwendolyn lived with her grandmother in the provincial town of Bristol. When she was barely seven, her parents were recruited to London on a contract and left her in her grandmothers care. The old woman adored her granddaughter and gave her everything she could.
When Gwendolyn reached sixteen, she fell for a classmate, Andrew Turner. He returned her affection, and their teenage romance blossomed despite the grandmothers dismissive wavehand: What didnt we all do at sixteen? Young folly will pass. Yet the pair fell deeper, oblivious to the world around them. After school they both entered university. In their first term Gwendolyn told Andrew, Get ready to be a father. He grinned, Always ready! A month later she collected her university papers and moved to London to live with her parents. Bewildered, Andrew turned to Gwendolyns grandmother, who warned, You cant feed a child with textbooks, love isnt a toy. He wrote a letter; she answered, Come. He hurried to London, only to be greeted by Gwendolyns mother, Margaret Clarke, at the door. Good afternoon, Im Andrew. Ive come for Gwendolyn, he said. Margaret kindly invited him in and led him to the kitchen. It became clear Gwendolyn was not home. Listen, soninlaw, Margaret began, leave our family alone. Forget Gwendolyn. When Andrew asked to wait, she replied, Shes at a health resort and will return in two weeks. Youve done all you could; well manage ourselves. He left, sat briefly on a bench outside the block, then caught a train to the station.
For Andrew, Gwendolyns nameLatin for starlikewould remain a holy emblem for years, a beacon he chased relentlessly. Back home he buried himself in his studies, unsure whether to storm her life, ignore the past, or simply move on.
He would later return to London when Gwendolyn gave birth to James, bringing gifts for his newborn son. Margaret, however, would cool his enthusiasm: Young man, we do not need your presents. We will raise James without you. My husband and I cannot afford to let our daughter subsist on crumbs. Attend to your own life. Andrew would leave with clipped wings, his friend stoking the fire with a warning about a wealthy fatherinlaw. He would suffer, loving Gwendolyn who never answered, while time slipped away like sunshine that cannot be caught in a sack.
Eventually Amelia Parker entered Andrews life, loving him sincerely. They welcomed a daughter, Julia, and Andrew spent the early years of marriage basking in Amelias devotion. Before their wedding he confessed that he had once dreamed of another. Amelia retorted sharply, Your words are cruel, darling, they scorch my soul. Yet I will survive and fight for you. My love will be enough for both of us. Andrew later became mayor of his town, yet Gwendolyn lingered in his heart. Over time their connection revived; he visited London, met his grownup son James, and Gwendolyn eventually married. Her husband pleased Margaret, who had even chosen him for her daughter.
Five years later, after living with her husband in London, Gwendolyn chose solitude and returned to her hometown. When James turned fourteen, teenage troubles erupted. Andrew, my son is out of control! Come! Help! Gwendolyn shouted over the phone. He abandoned all urgent matters and raced to London to rescue the woman he loved. Meanwhile Amelia, watching her husband leave, sat by the window weeping. After years of marriage she had grown accustomed to Gwendolyns midnight calls. Andrew would spring from bed, slip into the bathroom, whisper something intimate to Gwendolyn, leaving Amelia to play a secondary role in his life, never sure if he truly valued her generosity. Her heart felt a cold, unopenable window, often unsettled. Yet whenever Andrew returned from London, Amelias soul rejoiced: her husband was still there, his love for her enough. In those moments she stood on a pedestal of bliss, striving to be the perfect wife, yearning to unlock the fortress of their marriage with a golden key, to redeem love. She would often wipe undeserved bitter tears, silently endure when Andrew brought home a massive plush bear as a gift for James. Still, she found comfort in the fact that Andrew adored their daughter Julia, a small solace amid her inner turmoil. She recalled her grandmothers saying: A wife is a bandage to a husband; a husband is a shepherd to a wife.
Spring arrived, and Andrew prepared once more to travel to London for Jamess wedding, bringing a twoperson holiday to Greece as a gift for the young couple. Amid the festivities, Gwendolyn leaned toward Andrews ear and whispered, Perhaps we could start anew? He exhaled lightly and replied, as if cutting a rope, No, Gwendolyn. Its too late. I will marry my Amelia. I could never find a better wife.
The story teaches that clinging to past loves can imprison the heart, while embracing the present relationships we cultivate brings true peace and fulfillment.
