Lina Was “Bad”—Very Bad, Honestly Almost Pitiful: Unloved by All, Judged for Living Alone Without a Husband, Looked Down on at Work for Not Boasting of Housework Like the Married Women, Rumoured to Have Many Lovers, Scolded by Her Mum for Failing to “Settle Down” Again After Two Disastrous Marriages, Mocked for Enjoying Her Own Company and Rejecting Drudgery—But Despite All Their Gossips and Sighs, Lina Just Smiles Secretly and Dances Through Life, “Bad” in Their Eyes, But Content in Her Own

Author Emily TaylorReading 9 minViews 1

Monday, 7th March

Sometimes I wonder just how bad I truly am, or rather, how willingly the world wants to stamp me with that word. Its almost laughable, the way they say it as if I cant hear them, whispering in corners of the office kitchen as I walk by, judging nods and raised brows as subtle as a foghorn. Apparently, Im bad, and it nearly seems a pity. Bad, and whats more, unhappy.

Of course, I tick all the boxes for their sympathy: no husband, my sons grown up and lives in Bristol now, so far away, and here I am, just Helen Robinson, on my own, apparently unwanted by anyone.

This morning I shuffled into work, same as every Monday, and the office was buzzing about the weekend. Carol had washed curtains, Emily had scoured her kitchen, Susan had been digging veg in her allotment, and Margaret had been up to her elbows in jam making. Everyone bursting to sing their domestic exploits like some choir of diligent housewives. What do I have to say for myself? Nothing. No children underfoot, no man to cook for, no big cleaning spree. So I kept quiet. What’s the point?

I asked to leave a bit earlynothing new, it happens a couple of times a month. They glance at each other, tsk-tsk, and nod knowingly. Theyre convinced its always a tryst, me off to cavort with some secret string of lovers, because thats the only logical explanation for a woman on her own, isnt it? In their eyes, I must be a right tart to be so bad. All of them model wives and mothers, full schedules, jam-packed livesmeanwhile, poor irresponsible Helen.

Mum doesnt miss a beat either. Helen, love, why are you like this? she asks, sitting across from me, hand curled round her worn mug.

Im not sure what you mean, Mum.

Oh, you know, justunsettled. Couldnt you find yourself a nice chap? Its not too late for another child, you know. Women do it all the time these days, forty isnt what it used to be.

Mum, why do I need a random bloke? Why on earth would I want another child with one? Ive got Jamesthats more than enough for me. And as for a man, well, you know Ive got Mark.

Helen! she sighs in that wounded way. Mark isnt your man.

Yes he is, I laugh, He takes me out every week, buys gifts, helps me get away on holiday, doesnt give me grief, never ships me off to clean his mums windows, never expects dinner the moment he walks in, doesnt dump his problems all over me, and he doesnt treat the sofa like his personal throne. Its lovely, really.

Well yes, but his poor wife has to cope with all that instead! Mum huffs.

Would you want it to be me? No thanks, Mum. Im forty-odd, Ive been married twicereminder, twiceand I sprinted away from domestic bliss like my slippers were on fire.

My first husband, Jamess dadlets not forget, Mum, you pushed me into marrying him at eighteen. Hes older, Helen, hell look after you, take you seriously, hes so in love, and successful to boot. What did those five years do? I was caged, couldnt even study, not allowed to go for coffee with a friend, not trusted with my own son. My job was to slog for him and his mother, never good enough, always watched. Sure, I had gold, but I felt like a show pony, paraded through town: Look at my young, proper wifenone of your dolly birds, eh? Of course, he wasnt above sampling the dolly birds himself.

When I escaped, thank heaven for dear Old Gran, he demanded everything backeven the knickers.

Second time around, I married for love, I thought. Remember, Mum? I was studying in the day, slogging evenings at the pub so I wouldnt sponge off you and Dad.

Dont say that, Helen. I never refused you or James a crust of bread, never denied you supper, Mum insists.

Not you, but lets not pretend it was all roses. Dad worried Id put a strain on the family. Nickmy darling brothernever helped out, just sat on the sofa or buried himself in his computer. You working two jobs, yet still shopping, cooking, washing, and ferrying everyone about.

So, round two, I wed in a hurry to my true love. Nothing changedjust more to deal with. On paper I went from Helen Jane to Helen-the-doormat. Husband lounged about all day while I ran raggedwork, nursery run, groceries lugged home by hand because Why would you need a car, Helen? Your husband needs it for work. Made supper, did the laundry, bathed the kidshe barely lifted a finger. At night: Dont forget to please your man, Helen, or hell stray.

Money always tight, but any shortfall was your problem, for your child. If James had been his, maybe hed have bothered. Not my responsibility, he said. Find someone wholl take you and your baggage in, Helen. Good luck with that.

Both husbandsone richer, one poorersame result. Fine for them, miserable for me.

Thats just life, Helen, Mum says. Everyone makes do.

Let them, MumIm finished with it.

Asked how she spent her weekend: Oh, Nick and his wife left their two for us, so I took them out, made pancakes, hoovered, tidied, sorted laundry, made supper for Dad, did the ironingwas up late, then early again with the grandkids, made more pancakes, roasted a chicken, chopped salads, made pizzas, barely sat down.

I asked if she ever remembered looking after James for me, if Id ever dumped him on her and dashed off. She said too quietly, Helen, you were alwaysindependent. These two, honestly…

Want to know about my weekend, Mum? James rang Friday evening, asked if Id keep Molly, his girlfriends cat, while they went hiking in Wales. I said, why not? Dropped her off with some pizza and off they went.

I ate my fill, put on my comfiest PE kit, and binge-watched telly in peaceno alarm, no six a.m. madness. Saturday, I gave Molly her morning food, made my coffee, tidied a bit, washed a thing or two, thought Id call Mum about going to the V&A or grabbing a coffee together. Dad answeredsaid you were busy washing up, called me a layabout for living it up while my mother slaved.

I almost took it to heart, but then, what for? Dads always right, isnt he? I went to the V&A anywayyour favourite artist had an exhibit, remember? Bought a brownie in a café, strolled around the shops, came home to find Molly snuggled up on my old armchair. I settled on the sofa with another box set until I nodded off.

Sunday? We slept in till nearly eleven. Tried calling you for a boat ride along the Thames, but Masha picked upmouth full, told me you were busy, probably sweeping up after brunch. Later on, Mark called, invited me out for dinnerI said yes. Why not? Im free, I dont ask about his troubles at home. We avoid all that; I dont bore him with mine. I had a lovely evening, was home before eleven, up bright and happy Monday morning.

Mum, I did try dating single blokes. What a circus. Either theyre after a mum-substitute or so bitter from prior divorces it seeps out their pores. One even told me Id have to take on his kids as my own, all women are naturals at that. He plans to keep supporting his ex and their kids while spending the rest on fishinghis hobby, his real love. In exchange? Hell cook me trout. When I ask if hed help out with James, he gets furious and says, He’s not my responsibility, he has a father. Fair? Perhaps for him, not for me.

So I became marked as bad, selfish, cunningtrying to trap a poor man with my baggage. Thats how Mark came along. In everyones eyes, I might be bad, but Im not ashamed of the life Ive built. My pain comes not from my life, but from watching you waste years locked away within routines, Mum. So I tricked you and Dadsaid I needed a hand, anything to get you out the house, just the two of us.

Mum, Im really okay. Today, lets go find something for us, spend some time together, just you and me.

Youre mad, Helen! What about your father?

Mum, unless hes taken ill, hell survive. Besides, I dont believe you havent left a meal ready.

Well, it still needs to be warmed through, and Nick will

Mum, dont push me! Let me be good for oncelets go relax, just the two of us. Please, Im begging you.

Come Monday, everyone at work is moaning about how exhausting their restful weekend was. I just smile, that secret smile, and walk down the corridor with a spring in my step. Let them roll their eyesso certain they know my wicked thoughts. Maybe I am bad. But maybe, just maybe, Im finally happy.

Natalie, You’ve Been Gone for Five Years—You Never Cared How I Was or What Became of Me Natalie and Ben had lived together for over five years. Ben didn’t earn much—his salary was rather modest, as he was an ordinary labourer. Natalie always dreamed of a comfortable, or even better, wealthy life, so she was thrilled whenever she met men more successful than her husband. One day, Natalie had incredible luck—she caught the eye of a wealthy businessman who promised her a fortune. She fell for his grand promises and left her poor husband to start a new life. Ben was devastated by his wife’s decision. He pleaded with his beloved, begging her not to leave. He promised her everything would change, that he’d work harder, switch jobs, work day and night if he had to, just to make her happy. But Natalie was unmoved—she was already dreaming of sailing white yachts and shopping in Europe’s finest boutiques. Her poor husband could never afford such luxuries. No vow of love or promise could persuade her. Five years later, now thirty-two, Natalie’s rich benefactor lost interest in her amidst a crowd of younger, more alluring women. He told Natalie she was too demanding and quarrelsome, and he lost all affection for her. Having no way to support herself in London, never having had a job in her life, Natalie decided to return to her ex-husband. After all, hadn’t he sworn eternal love and said his heart belonged to her forever? Surely he would be waiting for her. As Natalie approached the flat where she once lived, she heard footsteps and saw a woman open the door, holding a small girl. “Darling, we’ve talked about not opening the door alone,” the woman gently chided the child. “Can I help you?” she asked. Natalie stood speechless on the doorstep. “I’m looking for Ben. Is he home?” Natalie stammered, confused and uncertain. “Ben, someone’s here asking for you! What’s your name?” the woman called for Natalie’s ex-husband, then glanced back at the guest. “Natalie!” Ben said in surprise, then turned to the woman. “Love, could you go inside? I need to talk.” “Who was that?” Natalie asked in astonishment, watching as the woman carried the little girl away. “That’s my wife, Olivia, and in her arms is our daughter, Emily,” Ben replied. “You’re married? You have a daughter? You swore you would never love anyone the way you loved me!” “So many years have passed since that day! I was heartbroken at first, but then I realised life doesn’t end when someone leaves. That’s when I met Olivia, fell completely in love, and she made me happy. She gave me a daughter.” “And me? What about me?” “Natalie, you’ve been gone for five years and never cared how I was or what became of me. You ran after someone else’s money, and all you wanted was wealth and a lavish life. We may never have been rich, but that doesn’t excuse what you did. And now you’ve come back? Did you expect me to sit and wait for you all this time?” “I was foolish! I still love you!” “Natalie, enough of this act. Please go. I don’t need you, and I don’t want to see you. Your boyfriend dumped you, and that’s the only reason you’re here? It makes me sick. Please, just go.” Natalie burst into tears, consumed by her heartbreak and the pain of not being wanted, while Ben was glad to have finally moved on and found happiness—achieving closure and a sense of vindication.

Go Away and Never Come Back — Leave, Do You Hear Me? Michael Whispered with Tears in His Eyes. Go, and Never Return—Ever Again. With Trembling Hands He Unclasped the Heavy Metal Chain and Dragged Berta to the Gate, Pushing Her Out onto the Road. She Didn’t Understand—Was She Being Driven Away? But Why, When She’d Done Nothing Wrong? Go, Please, Michael Repeated, Hugging the Dog. You Can’t Stay Here. He’ll Be Back Any Minute and… Just Then the Door Flew Open and Drunken Victor Stumbled Out onto the Porch, Axe in Hand… If Only People Knew for a Moment How Hard the Life of a Dog Forced onto the Streets Can Be, They’d See Strays with Pity, Not Disdain. But How Could They Know? Dogs Can’t Tell Their Stories or Complain About Their Fate—They Keep All Their Hurt Inside. But Let Me Tell You a Tale—A Tale of Love, Betrayal, and Loyalty… It Begins When Berta Was Unwanted From the Very Start. No One Knows Why Her First Owner Abandoned Her—Perhaps Simply for Being Born. He Didn’t Even Bother to Find Her a Home, Just Left the Two-Month-Old Puppy by the Roadside Outside a Small Village, Where Cars and Lorries Speeded Past. Perhaps He Hoped She Wouldn’t Survive, Either to Traffic or to Hunger. But That Day, Fortune Smiled—Young Michael Cycling on His Birthday Discovered Her, Saved Her, and Took Her in As His Own. Michael Had Long Dreamt of a Dog, and His Parents, Though Reluctant, Let Him Keep Her. He Named Her Berta, and They Fast Became Best Friends. For a Time, All Was Well—Until Michael’s Father, Victor, Lost His Job, Sunk into Drink, and Became Cruel, Lashing Out at His Family and the Dog. One Night, Fearing for Berta’s Life as His Father Raged, Michael Freed Her, Pleading Through Tears for Her to Run Away and Never Come Back. Berta Didn’t Understand, Only That She Was Suddenly Alone Again. Seven Long Years Passed. Berta Wandered Vilages, Survived on Kindness and Scraps, Was Taken In By a Cemetery Groundskeeper, and Lived Among Graves and Loss, Remembering Happier Times. One Day, She Found the Grave of Victor—the Man Who’d Driven Both Her and Michael From Home. Years Later, When Michael Returned at Last, Struggling With His Own Pain and Seeking Closure, Berta Found Him at the Cemetery. Older, Changed by Life, But Still Recognisable. They Reunited—Dog and Owner, Friends Bound by Love and Suffering. Michael Took Berta Home With His New Family, and Together with His Partner, a New Baby, and Even a Stray Kitten, They Built a New Life—One Where Loyalty, Forgiveness, and Hope Triumphed Over Cruelty and Abandonment. And So, Despite All They Endured, Michael and Berta Were Truly Happy, at Last.