Don’t Stir Up the Past Often, Tessa reflects on her life now that she’s crossed the fifty-year threshold. She can’t call her married life happy—and all because of her husband, George. When they were young, they married for love, both devoted to one another. Yet somehow, something changed in George, and she missed the moment it happened. They lived in a country village, sharing a house with George’s mother, Anne. Tessa worked to keep peace and respected her mother-in-law, who was always warm towards her. Tessa’s own mother lived in the next village with her younger son, frequently ill. “Anne, how do you get on with your daughter-in-law, Tessa?” idle gossips would ask when meeting by the well, in the shop, or just along the lane. “Nothing bad to say about Tessa—she’s respectful, manages the house well, and helps me in everything,” Anne would always answer. “Oh, as if! When did a mother-in-law ever praise her daughter-in-law? We don’t buy it,” the neighbours would retort. “Well, that’s your business,” Anne would reply, moving on. Tessa had a daughter, Vanessa, and everyone rejoiced. “Tessa, Vanessa’s got my nose!” claimed Anne, trying to spot her own features in her granddaughter while Tessa laughed—it didn’t matter to her who the child resembled. When Vanessa turned three, Tessa gave birth to a son. More joyful, busy days followed. George worked, Tessa kept house with the children, and Anne helped tremendously. Life ticked along quietly, perhaps even better than most—George wasn’t a drinker, unlike other husbands who’d be found by the village club, so drunk their wives dragged them home, cursing their fate. While expecting her third child, Tessa learned George was cheating. In the close-knit village, word spread fast about George and Tina, the local widow. The neighbour, Val, wasn’t shy about sharing. “Tessa, you’re carrying George’s third child and he’s running around. He’s ungrateful—chasing other women.” “Val, really? I haven’t noticed anything unusual,” Tessa replied, surprised. “Of course you haven’t! You’re busy—two kids, one on the way, house, mother-in-law, farm. He lives for himself. The village knows; Tina doesn’t even hide it.” Tessa was heartbroken. Anne knew but kept silent, pitying Tessa and afraid for her. She’d scolded George, who dismissed her concerns. “Mum, you didn’t see anything. Women talk. That’s what they do.” One evening, Val rushed over. “Tessa, George just slipped into Tina’s yard—I saw it myself, just back from the shop. You want to end up alone, with three kids and no husband? Go, drag Tina out by her hair! You’re pregnant—George won’t dare hit you.” Tessa knew she didn’t have it in her to fight Tina. She was tough, a fighter, her own husband having drowned in the river. Reluctantly, Tessa went to confront George. “I’ll look him in the eyes and get the truth. He never admits anything—always says it’s gossip,” Tessa said to Anne, who tried to stop her. “Tessa, don’t do it—have mercy on yourself…” It was late autumn, already dark. Tessa knocked on Tina’s window. Tina answered from behind the door. “What do you want, banging on my windows?” “Let me in. I know George is with you—people talk.” “Yeah, right. Like I’m letting you in. Go home, stop making a show,” Tina laughed. Tessa left, knowing she wouldn’t open up. George came home drunk after midnight—rare, but it happened. His wife was awake. “Where have you been? I know about Tina. I came by, she wouldn’t answer the door…” “What are you imagining?” George bristled. “I was with Jim—drinking, lost track of time.” Tessa didn’t believe him, but held her tongue; she wasn’t one for rows. What could she do? “Innocent until proven guilty,” as they say. She lay awake all night, thinking, “Where would I go, two children, another on the way? Mum’s sick, and my brother’s family is squeezed in already—even if I did leave, how could we fit?” Her mother had always advised endurance when Tessa complained about George’s affairs. “Endure, love; you married, you have children. Do you think I had it easier with your father? He drank, chased us—remember hiding at neighbours’? God took him, but I endured. At least George isn’t a drunk and never hits you. Women must endure, that’s always their lot.” Tessa didn’t agree entirely but understood—she couldn’t leave George. Anne helped her settle. “Daughter, where would you go with three children? Soon you’ll have the third. We’ll manage together.” Their third child, Alice, was frail and sickly—Tessa’s own distress had taken its toll during pregnancy. Over time, Alice grew stronger, thanks to Anne’s constant care. “Tessa, have you heard?” Val blurted out again—ever the village gossip. “Tina has let Mike move in; his wife threw him out.” “Who cares, let her,” Tessa replied, glad George would stay away. But a month later, Val returned. “Mike’s gone—back to his wife. Tina’ll be hunting for another man again. Keep George close; you never know…” Life settled again; Anne was pleased. But if a man’s restless, he won’t sit still. Anne bumped into her old friend Agnes on her way home from the shop. “Anne, how did George turn out like he did? Tessa’s a good woman, a good wife, even you say so—what’s his problem?” “Agnes, is George playing up again?” “He’s definitely wandering—this time with Vicky, the divorced one from the café…” Anne tried to reason with George, but he wouldn’t listen to his old mother. He shouted, told her to mind her own business. “Mum, I work, support the family, and you both accuse me—believe all the women’s gossip,” he protested. He stopped drinking entirely as the years went by. The children grew. Vanessa married and stayed in town where she attended college. Their son finished university in the city and married a local girl. Young Alice was about to finish school, planning to move to the district centre. George had quieted; now it was just work and home. With his health failing, he lay often on the settee, rarely drank—now, not at all. “Tessa, my heart’s playing up—hurts in my back.” And later, “Tessa, my knees ache. What’s that mean—joints? Maybe I should see a doctor.” Tessa felt no pity; her heart had hardened after so many tears and disappointments before George settled down. “He complains of bad health because he has to stay home—let him go and whinge to his old flames. Let them look after him now,” she thought. Anne had passed away, buried next to her husband. Their home was quiet now. Sometimes, the children and grandchildren would visit; both parents rejoiced. George would complain to the kids about his health—even accuse Tessa of neglect. The eldest daughter brought medicine, fussed over him, and even said to her mum, “Mum, don’t go hard on Dad—he’s poorly,” which stung Tessa, as her daughter took her father’s side. “Darling, he’s to blame—he had his fun in youth and now wants sympathy. I’m not made of steel myself—I lost my health worrying over him,” Tessa defended herself. The son, too, cheered up his father when visiting—men stick together. The children couldn’t seem to understand their mother’s pain, even when she told them about George’s affairs and how she endured for their sake. How could she have left them without a father? How hard, how bitter it all was. But all she ever heard in reply was, “Mum, don’t stir up the past, stop upsetting Dad,” said the eldest. Her brother always agreed. “Mum, what’s done is done,” he comforted her and patted her shoulder. Though Tessa was hurt that her kids sided with their father, she understood—they’re just living their lives. Thank you for reading, subscribing, and for all your support. Wishing you all the best in life!

Dont Dwell on the Past

Sarah often found herself reflecting on her life, especially after celebrating her fiftieth birthday. She couldnt truthfully call her marriage a happy one, largely due to her husband, Henry. They had married for love in their youth, both head over heels, and she missed the moment when he began to change.

They lived in a village, sharing the family cottage with Henrys mother, Margaret. Sarah tried to keep the peace at home and always treated Margaret with respect; in return, Margaret was warm and kind. Sarahs own mother lived in a nearby village with her younger son. She was in poor health, and Sarah worried for her.

Margaret, how do you manage with your daughter-in-law, Sarah? the local women would ask at the market or the post office, always eager for a bit of gossip.

I cant say a bad word about her; shes respectful, clever with household chores, runs things well, and helps me with everything, Margaret would reply.

Oh, we dont believe for a minute its all sunshine! Since when do mothers-in-law praise daughters-in-law? We dont buy it! the neighbours would laugh.

Thats your business, Margaret would say, carrying on with her shopping.

Sarah gave birth to a daughter, Lucy, and everyone was delighted.

Sarah, little Lucy looks just like me! Margaret would claim, searching for similarities, while Sarah laughed, happy simply that her daughter was healthy, regardless of whom she resembled.

When Lucy turned three, Sarah had a son, Samuel. More joyful fuss followed. Henry kept working, Sarah stayed home with the children, and Margaret helped out wonderfully. Things were calm, perhaps better than most; Henry didnt drink like many of the other husbands, whod have to be hauled back from the pub, barely able to stand, amidst their wives furious scoldings.

Soon Sarah was expecting her third child when she learned that Henry was unfaithful. Nothing stays secret in a village, and word about Henry and widowed Pauline travelled fast. Neighbour Carol didnt hesitate to inform Sarah.

Sarah, youre carrying Henrys third child, and hes running off with other women, Carol said bluntly.

Oh really? I havent noticed anythinghe seems fine to me, Sarah said, surprised.

No wonder. Youve two little ones, a third on the way, the house, your mother-in-law, the chores. He just does as he pleases. Everyone knows about them, and Pauline doesnt even hide it, Carol shook her head.

Sarah was troubled; Margaret knew too but stayed silent, not wanting to cause her more pain. Shed often scolded her wayward son, but Henry would brush it off:

Mum, you dont know what youre talking about. You always listen to womens gossip.

One evening Carol appeared again in a swirl of agitation.

Sarah, I just saw Henry slip into Paulines garden as I walked back from the shop! Do you want to be stuck with three children and no husband? March right over there and have it out with her. Youre pregnant; Henry wouldnt dare touch you, she urged.

Sarah couldnt imagine fighting Pauline, especially knowing her history; feisty and quarrelsome, Pauline was hardened by a rough life, her husband drowned while drunk. Thinking it through, Sarah decided to confront Henry instead.

Ill talk with Henry, try to get the truth out of him. Hell never admit it, always claims its just womens gossip, she told Margaret, who tried to dissuade her.

Sarah, youre expecting. Think of yourself

It was late autumn, already dark. Sarah knocked on Paulines window, waiting nervously. Paulines voice called out from behind the door.

What do you want, banging on my windows?

Open up. I know Henrys with youpeople have told me, Sarah said loudly.

Go home, dont make a fool of yourself, Pauline laughed from inside.

Sarah lingered, knowing Pauline wouldnt let her in, then walked home. Henry came back after midnight, tipsyhe seldom drank, but tonight he had.

Where were you? I know you were with Pauline. I came round and she wouldnt let me in you know exactly what Im talking about, Sarah confronted him.

What are you on about? Henry snapped. I wasnt there; I was with Tom at the pub. Lost track of time.

Sarah didnt believe him but chose to say nothing, unwilling to cause a row. After all, innocent till proven guilty. She lay awake thinking:

Where would I go with two little ones and a third on the way? Mums ill, and my brothers family is bursting at the seams. Theres no room for us.

Sarahs mother always gave the same advice when she complained about Henrys cheating.

Endure it, dear. You chose to marry, youve had your children, so endure. Do you think it was easy living with your father? He drank like a fish and drove us to hide at neighbours houses. God took him in the end, but I put up with it. At least your Henry isnt a heavy drinker and keeps his hands to himself. Women have always had to endure.

Sarah didnt agree with everything her mother said, but realised she couldnt leave Henry. Margaret comforted her, too.

Where would you go with the children? Soon the third will be born. Well manage together with Henry.

Their third child, Daisy, arrived frail and often illperhaps Sarahs stress during pregnancy had taken its toll. With time, Daisy grew calm, especially as Margaret lavished care on her.

Sarah, did you hear? Paulines taken in Mikehis wife threw him out, Carol gossiped one morning, her words flitting around the village like a sparrow.

She can do as she pleases. Thats her business, Sarah replied, relieved that Henry wouldnt be visiting Pauline soon.

A month later, Carol came sprinting back.

Mikes left Pauline, gone back to his wife. Now Pauline will be hunting again. You keep Henry closeshell have her claws out soon, she warned.

Peace returned to Sarah and Henrys household; Margaret was glad. But temptation lingered for Henry. On her way home from the supermarket, Margaret ran into her old friend, Sally.

Margaret, whatevers got into your Henry? Sarahs lovely, you always say shes a wonderful wife and motherwhat more does he want?

What are you getting at, Sally? Has Henry been up to his old tricks again?

Hes still at it, sneaking about. What does he need at home? Hes got it easymeals made, clothes washed, everything just so. Hes seeing Veronica, the divorcee from the canteen

Margaret didnt tell Sarah, scolded Henry privately, urging him to see sense. But secrets dont stay hidden. Sarah learned of Henrys wandering courtesy of Carol. Tears and pleading didnt change anything. Henry never planned on leavinghe couldnt abandon his family, but he didnt remain faithful either. The arrangement suited him: wife, kids, mother, all comforts at home; a distraction elsewhere.

Margaret openly berated him, but grown men seldom heed ageing mothers. Henry shouted back, telling her to mind her own business.

I work hard for this family, bring in money, and you both blame me. You believe a pack of silly rumours.

Years slipped by. The children grew up. Lucy married and settled nearby after college. Samuel qualified from university and wed a local girl as well. The youngest, Daisy, was finishing school and aiming for the city college. Henry finally calmed down, spending his days with work and home, now lounging on the sofa as his health faltered. He stopped drinking altogether, though hed never been excessive even before.

Sarah, my hearts playing up; feels like its stabbing my back, or, Sarah, my knees ache, what does that meanarthritis? He moaned, Maybe I should see the doctor.

Sarah found it hard to pity him. Her heart had hardened long ago after so many tears and disappointments.

His health is failing; now hes stuck at home whining, Sarah thought, Let him go cry to those former lovers. Let them take care of him now.

Margaret had passed away and was buried next to her husband. The house was quiet, just Sarah and Henry. Sometimes the children and grandchildren visited, bringing life and cheer. Henry would complain to them about his ailments and accuse Sarah of neglect.

Lucy brought medicines and fussed over him. She said to her mother, Mum, dont be harsh on Dad, hes not well, which stung Sarahher daughter had taken his side.

Hes only got himself to blame, Sarah tried to explain, His wild younger days have caught up with him. Im not made of steel either; I lost my health with all the worry over him.

Samuel always tried to encourage Henry on his visits, chatting to him more than to Sarahperhaps thats just how men are.

It seemed to Sarah the children didnt quite understand the sacrifices shed made, enduring Henrys betrayal for their sake. Leaving him would have left them fatherless, something she couldnt bear. But when she tried to explain, they told her:

Mum, stop digging up the pastdont upset Dad, Lucy would say, with Samuel always agreeing.

Mum, its all behind us now, hed reassure her, patting her shoulder.

Though it stung a little that her children sided with Henry, Sarah understood. She didnt hold it against them; life goes on.

In the end, Sarah realised that holding onto old sorrows only weighed her down. The past is a chapter that teaches but shouldnt trap us. Sometimes, true strength is letting go so that peace can settle, and the future can unfold with hope.