A Nursemaid for the Wife
What do you mean? Lydia couldnt believe her ears. Where am I supposed to go? Why should I leave? For what?
Oh, lets not have any theatrics now, shall we? Edward grimaced. Whats so hard to understand? Theres no one left for you to look after here. Its none of my concern where you go.
Edward, whats got into you? Werent we planning to get married?
That was all in your head. I never intended any such thing.
At thirty-two, Lydia had decided to turn her life around and leave her small village behind.
What did she have left there? Her mothers constant nagging?
Her mother never failed to bring up the divorce, blaming Lydia for not keeping her husband. As if losing him was some great tragedy.
But Jack, that one, wasnt worth a kind wordalways at the pub and never missed a wandering eye. How shed ended up marrying him eight years ago was a mystery.
Lydia hadnt even felt much sadness over the divorceif anything, shed felt as if a weight had been lifted.
Still, she and her mother clashed endlessly over it, and on top of that, money was always tight.
So Lydia set her sights on the county town, convinced shed find a better life there.
See, her old school friend, Susan, had married a widower five years ago.
Never mind that he was sixteen years older and far from handsomehe had a flat and steady money coming in.
Lydia reasoned she was no less than Susan.
Thank goodness! Finally coming to your senses! Susan encouraged her. Pack up quickly, you can stay with us for a bit and well sort out work together.
Will your husband, Mr. White, mind? Lydia asked, hesitating.
Hardly! He does whatever I ask of him. Dont worry, well manage!
Still, Lydia didnt like to overstay her welcome.
After a couple of weeks and her first bit of money earned, she rented a small room of her own.
Then, scarcely two months later, luck fell into her lap.
Why would a lady like you be standing out here at a market stall? asked Mr. Edward Brown, one of her regulars, with concern.
Lydia knew all her steady customers by name.
Its cold, theres little to eat, and truly, its no place for someone like you.
Well, what else can I do? she shrugged. Have to earn somehow.
She added, with a half-smile, Or do you have a different proposition for me?
Edward Brown was by no means Lydias idea of Prince Charmingat least twenty years her senior, soft about the middle, with a receding hairline and shrewd eyes.
He always scrutinised the produce, paid to the penny, and his clothes were well-made; he arrived in a decent motor, so clearly not down and out. Still, his wedding ring ruled him out in Lydias mind as a possible husband.
You seem a responsible, capable, tidy sort, Edward quickly switched to calling her you. Have you ever cared for the ill?
I have. Looked after a neighbour. She had a stroke; her children lived far away and had no time for it, so they asked me to step in.
Splendid! Edward became earnest, then his face took on gravity, My wife, Margaretshes had a stroke as well. The doctors dont hold out much hope. I brought her home, but Ive no time to look after her. Could you help? Ill pay you fairly.
Lydia didnt hesitate. Better to be in a warm homeeven if it meant cleaning up after someonethan stand in the cold for ten hours a day dealing with fussy customers.
Moreover, Edward offered her room and board, so she wouldnt have to pay rent.
Theyve got three bedrooms! More space than youd ever need! Lydia gushed to Susan. No children either.
Margarets mother, at sixty-eight, was quite the character: newly wed and absorbed in her husband. No one else could take on the care.
Is she very unwell? Susan inquired.
Very. Poor woman cant move, can only groan. Shell likely never recover.
You dont sound too unhappy about that, Susan observed, peering at Lydia.
Im not happy about her suffering, Lydia averted her gaze, but when its over, Edward will be free.
Lydia, are you wishing death on someone for a flat? Susan was appalled.
Wish her ill? Of course not! But I wont miss my chance, either. Easy for you to judge from your happy marriage!
Their quarrel was fierce, and it was six months before Lydia told Susan her relationship with Edward had become something more.
They couldnt be apart, but hed never leave his wifehe wasnt that sort. So they would continue as they were, quietly.
So, you two are flirting away while his wife is on her deathbed in the next room? Susan frowned. Do you see how wrong this is? Or are you that blinded by his supposed wealth?
Lydia huffed. Never a kind word from you!
They stopped speaking again, but Lydia scarcely felt a twinge of guilteveryone acted holier than thou. Its as they said: the well-fed do not understand the hungry. Shed manage without her friend.
Lydia cared for Margaret with diligence and responsibility, and after her affair with Edward began, she took over every household task.
A man needs more than one kind of attention, after all: a good meal, crisp shirts, a tidy homenot just affection.
Lydia believed her paramour was pleased, and indeed, she quite enjoyed her lot in life.
She even overlooked that Edward had stopped her wages for caring for his wife. But what need was there for pay, when they were practically man and wife?
He gave her money for groceries and other expenses, and she kept the books, not quite realising she could barely stretch the budget provided.
But Edward, as a factory foreman, was well-paid. Yet Lydia suspected once they married, all would be settled.
The initial fire cooled eventually, and Edward was no longer in any great hurry to come home, but Lydia put it down to the weariness from his wifes illness.
From what, she couldnt fathomhe barely saw his wife, maybe a minute a daybut still, Lydia pitied him.
Even so, when Margaret passed on, Lydia wept. Over a year and a half shed dedicated herself to this womanthose days were gone forever. She managed the funeral as well, since Edward was overcome with grief.
He gave her just enough for the expenses, but she made everything proper. No one could reproach her.
Even the neighbours, whod given her sidelong looks over the affairword always got around!nodded approvingly at the funeral. Margarets mother too had nothing but praise.
So Lydia hadnt expected the words Edward said to her afterwards.
As you can see, theres no further need for your services here, Edward said coldly, ten days after the funeral. You have a week to move out.
What do you mean? Lydia was sure shed misheard. Where am I supposed to go? Why? For what reason?
Oh, spare me the drama, he winced. Whats unclear? Theres no one left for you to nurse. Where you go isnt my concern.
Edward, what about us getting married?
You made that up. I never promised anything.
The following morning, her eyes sore from a sleepless night, Lydia tried again to plead with Edward, but he repeated his words and urged her to hurry her move.
My fiancée wants to redecorate before the wedding, Edward announced.
Fiancée? Who is she?
Thats none of your business.
Oh, is it not? Lydia shot back. Fine! Ill leavebut you owe me for my work, dont think Ill let that go. Dont look at me like that!
You promised me forty thousand pounds a month, which I only received twice. That leaves you owing me six hundred and forty thousand.
My, youre quick with arithmetic, arent you! Edward smirked. Dont get your hopes up…
Plus extra for being your housekeeper! Oh, never mindthe lot comes to a million, and then well be strangers!
Or what? Go to court? You havent even a contract, he sneered.
Ill tell Margarets mother, Lydia replied quietly. She bought you this flat. You know what shed think of that. You know her better than I.
Edward paled, but regained composure quickly.
Whod believe you? Trying to frighten me, are you? Well, I dont want you here another minuteleave now.
Three days, Edward. No million, then youll have a scandal. Lydia packed her things and moved into a boarding house. Shed managed to squirrel away a bit.
On the fourth day, with no word from Edward, Lydia went to the flat; by fortune, Margarets mother, Mrs. Anderson, was present.
Lydia saw by Edwards face there would be no money coming, so without delay, she told the widow everything.
Shes making things up! Dont listenshes unstable! Edward blustered.
I heard some bits at the funeral and doubted it, but now it all makes sense, Mrs. Anderson glared. And as for you, I hope you remember this flat is in my name?
Edward was rooted to the floor.
So, I want you out by the weeks end. No, three days.
Mrs. Anderson made for the door, but not before pausing beside Lydia.
And you, Lydia, what are you still doing here? Waiting for applause? Off you go!
Lydia darted from the flat as if stung. She could expect nothing now. It was back to the market for hertheres always work for someone willing.
