Linda was bad.
Truly dreadful, honestlyyou almost pitied her for being so bad.
Everyone kept trying to drive it home to her, just how bad Linda was.
Bad, and, of course, unhappy.
No husband, her only son now grown and off living his own life.
Linda, alone, unneeded by anyone.
She walked into work on Monday and listened to all the boastingwho spent the weekend scrubbing, washing, doing up the house.
Some slaved away in the garden, others made jam.
Linda said nothing. What could she say? No man at home, child gone, nothing much to chat about. She just kept her head down.
She left work early today, as she often did a couple of times a month. There were disapproving shakes of the headeveryone knew where she must be off to: meeting one of her many lovers.
Linda, after all, was the bad one.
Unlike the other ladiesrespectable, married, busyLinda was different. Linda was bad.
Linda, her mother sighed, why are you like this?
Like what, Mum?
All unsettled. Couldnt you just find yourself a nice man? Honestly, dear, its not too late for a second child. You know, lots of women have kids after forty these days.
Mum, why would I want some random bloke? Why would I want another child with a random bloke? Linda said, genuinely puzzled. What for? Ive got Sam, hes all I need As for your nice man, whats the point, Mum? What am I supposed to do with him? Ive got Oliver.
Linda! her mum exclaimed, scandalised, Ollies not your man!
Isnt he? Feels like he is, Linda laughed, He takes me out once a week, brings me gifts, helps me go on holiday, never nags me, never sends me off to clean his mothers house, doesnt dump piles of laundry on me, doesnt demand dinner on the table, doesnt lumber me with his troubles, doesnt lay claim to the sofa.
Must be bliss, her mum grumbled, Shame its his poor wife who does all that.
Would you rather I did all that, then? Im in my early forties and, lets just remember, Ive been married twice. Twice. And I ran from domestic bliss as fast as my slippers could take me. Remember my first husbandSams dadyour idea, wasnt it Mum? He was older, cleverer, mature, he loved me, respected me, had a bob or two to rub together, right Mum?
Five yearsfive years spent practically imprisoned. No studies, no friends, even Sam was off-limitstoo young, didnt know what I was doing. Housework and nothing else, for him and his mother.
But hey, I was dripping in gold, wasnt I?
And every month hed take me out like a show dog, making a point of what a proper young wife should be. He, on the other hand, had his dolls on the side, didnt he?
And when I finally left him and filed for divorcethanks to Granny, by the wayhe wanted everything back. Even the pants.
The second time I married for love. You remember, Mum? I was studying and working, killing myself to catch up on what Id missed, then earning my own keep so I wasnt a burden on you and Dad
Linda! How can you say that? When did I ever begrudge you a crust of bread or a bowl of soup, for you or Sam?
You never did, Mum… But it wasnt just you. There was someone else dreading me sponging off your good nature with my little boy.
Whatever do you mean?
About Dad, who elseoh, and dear brother Nick, always underfoot. You were working two jobs, dashing home after the shops, the baby birds waiting, one on the sofa, one glued to the computer.
And there you were, cooking, cleaning, washing So for loves sake I rushed into marriage again. Because I already knew what life without love was like.
What changed for me? Absolutely nothing. More hassle. I went from being Linda the Angel to Linda the One-Who-Must-Do-It-All. My beloved lounged on the sofa, I did the nursery run, because heaven forbid I burden himwasnt even his child, and even if he were, its not a mans job is it? Men are tired, after all.
Shopping bags and child in tow, Id drag myself home, cause, of course, cars are for the man of the housecant expect him to take the tram to work, can you? Thats what all women dowhat do you mean, youre tired? Who will cook dinner then?
Cooked, served, washed, ironed, then off to please the husbandGod forbid he misses out on his slice of warmth and affection, might drive him into someone elses arms, the treasure.
Not enough money for us? Well, your problem, your kid. If only youd popped out his own little heir, things would be different, maybe hed lift a finger. But no, find another mug to support you and your offspring.
Sorry, love, you picked the wrong one
Not giving you money for my car repairs? My car? Sweetheart, were a family.
I mean, just look how much you earn, barely breaking a sweat, compared to me.
Youve been lucky.
What do you mean, youre leaving?
Oh, off you gowhod want you anyway, single mum, ha!
So, Mum, Ive been married to the one with more money, and the one with less. Made no bleeding difference. Everyone else seemed just fineexcept me. I was the one left miserable, Mum.
Linda, everyone lives like that, you know.
Well, let them! But I wont, Mum. I dont want it.
How did you spend your Saturday, Mum?
Oh, well, Nick and Martha dropped their little ones, Olivia and Ethan, round to us, I took them to the park, made pancakes, didnt do much else, reallya bit of dusting, hoovering, mopped the floors, did the laundry, put the children to bed, fed your father, ironed a bit, then finally crawled off to bed gone midnight.
And the little ones wake up early, wanted more pancakes. So there I am at it again, then Nick and Martha came back, I roasted a chicken, made salads, baked a pizza for tea, washed up a bit after they left, and collapsed onto the sofa by eleven.
Mum, I dont remember you ever fighting to look after Sam, do you? I dont recall dumping my boy on you and running off for a breather, wide-eyed with freedom.
Linda, you were always a little too independent, but these two oh, honestly, there are no words.
Want to know what I did last weekend, Mum? Friday night Sam rangasked if I could look after Timmy for the weekendthey wanted to go hiking.
Of course I took him, why not? Timmys Marinas cat, Sams girlfriend. If you werent so wrapped up in Nick and his lot, you might know what your eldest is up to nowadays. Anyway, Sam and his girlfriend swung by, dropped off the cat, brought pizza, and off they went. I stuffed my face with pizza and sank straight into my showsnothing to wake up for at the crack of dawn, after all.
In the morning I fed Timmy, made coffee, wiped down the sides, threw in a laundry load. I rang you actually, fancied dragging you off to a museum or a natter. Dad picked up; said you were busy, hands wet, something or other. Called me a layabout, said his wife was slaving over my nieces and nephews, while I roamed around museums like Lady Muck. I almost took it to heart, but whats the point? Dads always right.
I went to the museum anywayyou know, they had an exhibition of your favourite artistand I remembered how you used to love him. Then I sat in a café, browsed some shops, remembered Timmy, came home to a sleeping cat. Didnt fancy going anywhere else. So I lounged on the sofa with a show.
Sunday, we slept till nearly eleven. I was going to ask you join me for a cruise down the river, but Martha picked upher mouth fullsaid you were busy, again, probably washing up or tidying. In the evening, Oliver called and invited me to dinner. And why on earth should I refuse? Im a free woman, Mum. I dont quiz him about his wife, dont ask about their marriage. We dont burden each other with problems. Had a lovely meal, went home, slept well, and was fresh for work Monday morning.
Mum, Ive tried dating bachelors. Its a nightmare. Young lads looking for a second mother. Or tired, bitter mendivorced twice, three times, kids galore, all wanting a new handout.
Why the look, Mum? The worlds changed, you see.
One even told me Id be obliged to take on his children, that because Im a woman, Im supposed to love all children by default. Hed support his ex wife and kids out of his wagesthe rest would go toward his fishing hobbybut wed live off my salary. In return hed bring home a nice fish.
When I asked if hed help with Sam, he was furiousSams got a dad, hasnt he? So let his dad help.
Fair enough, I suppose. So I showed him the doorSam has a dad, yes, but he has a mum too. Me.
So then I became badselfish, stingy, manipulative. Tried to dump my son on a poor, hard-up man and live off him, apparently.
That, Mum, is why I ended up with Oliver.
Yes, you all think Im bad. But you know what? Im not ashamed. Not even a little. I just feel sad, Mum, sad for youbecause you dont live the life you could. Thats why I lie sometimes, like today, saying I needed help, to get you out the house. Mum, Im fine. Why dont we go and do something for you, for usyoull enjoy it, I promise.
Are you mad, Linda? What about Dad?
What about him? Is he ill?
No, but lunch
As if youve not already cooked, Mum.
Well, it needs warming up, and, well, Nick
Mum! Dont push me Let me be the good one for once, lets go out and relax together. Please, Mum, please just let me.
At work, Monday, the ladies compete over who was the most exhausted from their restful weekend.
And Lindathe bad oneLinda just smiles slyly, striding through with a bounce in her step, a secret smile only she understands.
After all, everyone knows exactly what Lindas been up to.
Must be something bad, obviously.
