Youll be lost without me! You cant do anything on your own! Richard shouts as he folds his shirts into a large suitcase.
But she manages. She does not fall apart. Maybe if shed given herself time to dwell on how she was supposed to survive with two kids, she would have come up with all sorts of awful scenariosmaybe even forgiven his affair. But there is no time for that. The girls need to be taken to nursery, and she must rush off to work. Her husband had only shown up half an hour ago with a smug grin, pleased with his new romance, exuding confidence.
Pulling on her coat, Tessa gives precise orders:
Holly, help Emily do up her coat and make sure she eats well at nursery. Their key worker says she refuses her porridge again.
Richard, youd best take all your precious belongings now, dont drag things out. And leave the flat key in the post box, please. Goodbye.
Holly came into the world a full half hour earlier than Emily, making her the older sister. Theyre four years old now, each with their own sturdy personalities. If Holly doesnt fancy her semolina, shell eat it because thats what you do, while Emily will stubbornly declare, There are lumps in it, Im not eating that.
Fortunately, the nursery is just around the corner, a ten-minute walk. The girls chatter, distracting her from the looming challenges ahead. Work allows no time for self-pityappointments with patients as a GP are scheduled to the minute, and then there are house calls. Only in the evening, as she sees the empty coat hangers in the hall where her husbands jackets used to be, does she realise she is truly on her own now. But feeling sorry for herself is not her wayeverything must go on, just as before, if not better. One can always sit and despair, or quietly think things through, look for a way forward, and find at least a little glimmer of hope. For now, theres supper to cook.
Whats really changed for us girls? Tessa muses, chopping vegetables for a salad. Husband gone. What did he actually do around here? Whats going to land onto my already full plate? Nothing I cant handle. Just need to adjust the routine a touch. Ill be fine. In fact, things will only get better. I dont want to live my life wondering where he isprobably with her. Id rather be by myself. Its harder, but so much calmer.
After reading the latest from The Adventures of Pinocchio and kissing the girls goodnight, Tessa hurries to the bathroom. The wash is finished, so she needs to hang up the laundry.
Before bed, she decides on a cup of tea, to gather her thoughts and plan for the next day. Her twins are like peas in a pod, but the fact there are two never fazes Tessa, though people often act like she deserves a medal.
Were all right, honestly, she replies to their sympathy. No ones burning the candle at both ends. The kettle whistles. Tessa makes her favourite lemon balm tea and switches on a cosy lamp. Its sleeting outside, but inside the flat is warm and still, only the steady tick of the clock on the wall.
Suddenly the doorbell rings. Surprised, Tessa sees Mrs. Jenkins on the doorstep. Tessa has never warmed to her; shes a solitary pensioner who walks her scruffy little dog every morning, greeting Tessa with no more than the tightest of smiles. Now and then, Tessa has seen that dog by the bins, skinny and bedraggled, silently watching as rubbish is thrown away. It appears the old lady took pity on it and gave it a home. No one ever visits Mrs. Jenkins, she only goes to the shops and out for dog walks.
I hope Im not intruding, Mrs. Jenkins says, pulling her wool shawl tighter. I saw your husband loading things into his car this morning. Has he left you?
Thats really none of your business, Tessa answers sharply.
It certainly isnt. I just want to sayif you ever need a hand, Id be happy to help. If you need someone to mind the girls, or anything else.
Come in, Tessa offers. Whats your name? she asks, pouring tea into two cups. She places a plate of biscuits on the table. Please, help yourself.
My name is Margaret Jenkins. I know youre Tessa. Well, Tessa, Im not trying to impose. Just know, if you ever need anything, Ill be glad to help. Not for money, dont worry. For me, it gives me pleasure. Mrs. Jenkins nibbles her biscuit, takes a careful sip of tea and nods. Lovely taste. Is that lemon balm? I grow plenty of herbs at my allotment, lemon balm included. You must come and visit in the summertheres space to relax, and Ive got an apple tree with the sweetest apples.
Tessa looks at Margaret Jenkins and wonders why she ever thought the woman was unpleasant. Was it because she didnt give ingratiating smiles, or pry constantly about how Tessa coped with her twins? She never fished for details about Tessas private life, just passed by in silence. Tessa had assumed Mrs. Jenkins was aloof, even cold. And yet, she hadnt asked about her husband, hadnt rubbed salt in the wound, she just quietly offered help.
Now, Tessa sees the neighbour differently: neat, with brand new slippers, her hair in a tidy bun, a dress with a lace collar. Theres a gentle scent about her, some subtle perfume.
Tessa listens as the old lady talks about her allotment, about apples, the little wood-fired sauna there, the lake where greedy ducks make their summer home. As Margaret talks, the worries fade further into the background, replaced with a growing feeling of comfort.
Five years have passed, but Tessa remembers it all perfectly. Remembers her husbands angry words: Youll never cope without me!
But thats all behind her now.
Margaret deftly slices apples, arranges them neatly on top of the pastry, and pops the tray into the hot oven. Salads are finished; the stew simmers on the hob. Today is Margarets birthday. Its August. The doors and windows of the airy cottage are thrown wide open, and the kitchen is filled with the scent of apple tart.
How many times shes saved me, Tessa thinks, watching the pensioner, flushed from the warmth of the oven.
What would I have done without her? The girls absolutely adore Granny Margaret. If Mrs. Jenkins had slammed the door on her that evening, theyd have none of this. The twins are nine nowschoolgirlsevery summer spent here at this inviting cottage: the lake, friends, and beloved gran. Genuinely family, loving and incredibly kind.
Ill go pick some more apples for a crumble, Tessa says, stepping out into the garden, basket in hand.
Under the apple tree, in the cool shade, lies Alfie, their labrador. Who would have imagined that scruffy, unfriendly thing from the bins would become this beautiful, glossy companion?
Its all down to love. Only love saves us, Tessa thinks, offering Alfie a biscuit in the palm of her hand.
