STARING INTO THE ABYSS
David and Alice got married when they were just nineteen an age when you still think the world revolves around your first love. Their devotion was of the utterly ridiculous, cosmic sort; separating them seemed as likely as splitting an atom with a butter knife. Understandably, their parents swiftly decided to make things official just in case anything untoward should happen, goodness forbid.
The wedding itself was a proper English affair: confetti in everyones hair, a rented Rolls with a giant teddy bear on the bonnet, buckets of roses, a fireworks display, and the obligatory echoing shouts of, Kiss! Come on, dont be shy! during the speeches. The whole thing looked straight out of a British rom-com, only with more relatives from Doncaster.
Alices parents, sadly, contributed precisely nothing to the matrimonal treasury. Every penny they earned managed only to keep the fridge grimly stocked with value beans and the drinks cabinet jarringly full of discount gin. So it was Davids mother, Sandra Wilkinson, who held the financial fort. Knowing her full name was a tongue-twister, she insisted everyone call her Sandy far easier for tipsy wedding guests.
Sandy had, of course, warned her son off dating a girl whose parents could drink most rugby teams under the table. But David, the incurable romantic, confidently declared that Alices heart was so pure it would neutralise any family flaws, genetic or otherwise.
Sandy, never one to hold back, tried to drive sense into him:
Listen, lad, you dont grow oranges on an oak tree, you know. Dont let your love be as short-lived as a mayflys sneeze.
David, blinded by love, wasnt to be swayed.
So, with stars in their eyes, David and Alice stood at the gates of what they assumed would be boundless joy: love! Laughter! Sunshine forever! The world clearly had other plans.
For their wedding gift, Sandy and her husband handed over a tidy little flat. Be happy, you two! Make memories, not messes! she beamed.
At the start, the honeymoon phase genuinely lived up to its billing. Alice gave birth to two daughters Tessa and Sophie. David absolutely doted on them, basking in his new role as Master of the House (at least when no one else was home).
But five years into marital bliss, cracks appeared and some were distinctly sherry-shaped. Alice began vanishing for hours, returning home with an eau de pub clinging to her like a bad perfume. David pleaded for explanations. At first, Alice met his questions with the icy silence of a withholding cat. Eventually, she snapped, I never loved you, David it was just a teenage crush, no more. Ive found the real man of my dreams and Im off to be with him.
Small print: the dream man was already married with three daughters, a minor detail Alice shrugged off.
David was poleaxed. His feelings were less heartbreak and more steamroller. Hed been betrayed by his own Juliet only this Romeo was left holding the mop.
Alice and her new beau legged it to a half-forgotten village, declaring that if love was true, a hut of reeds would be a five-star hotel (and if it wasnt, a mansion would feel like a cupboard). She left the girls behind, trusting fate or at least Davids mum to pick up the slack.
Sandy, as energetic as a Sunday market and twice as sharp, swooped in and scooped up both girls. She and her husband spoilt Tessa and Sophie rotten, substituting toys and treats for all the affection the universe had short-changed them.
Meanwhile, David aimless, wounded, and frankly at a loss wandered into a religious cult. (A mate suggested it as mates do.) The cult was keen on quick fixes, so they married him off to a widow named Gladys who brought along two rambunctious sons. In time, they wed (proper ceremony, robes, everything).
Gladys, however, thought Davids daughters were his past menu items. Whenever David hinted he might visit them, Gladys barked, David, theyve got a mother, havent they? Let her sort them out! Meanwhile, take Oliver to school and feed little Victor, wont you? David obeyed meekly, a martyr with the enthusiasm of a soggy Rich Tea biscuit.
He still loved Alice, naturally, but faced facts: the love train had left the platform, and he wasnt on board.
Seven years trundled past before Alice reappeared one day at Sandys. She had a four-year-old girl in tow. Sandy gave the prodigal daughter-in-law a look that could curdle milk.
Well, Alice, lifes knocked you about a bit, hasnt it? Wouldnt have known you. This your girl?
Yes, this is Molly. Can we stay with you for a bit, Sandy? Alice shifted from foot to foot like an unprepared Strictly contestant.
Didnt expect this. Got the boot, did you? Sandy pressed, not bothering with sympathy.
No, I left. Couldnt bear it he drinks all day and thinks Im a punch bag. Alice whined, hoping for a scrap of kindness.
Chose him yourself, duck no one twisted your arm. Why not go to your own family?
Ive missed my daughters. Just want to see them again surely you wont say no? Alice tried her luck, wagering on Sandys soft heart under all that bluster.
Hmph, now she remembers the kids! Honestly, Alice, youre a right cuckoo. Sandy grumbled on.
The doorbell cut the quarrel short. In walked Tessa and Sophie now sullen teens, eyed the guest with suspicion, well aware this apparition was their mother. Affection? Not a drop. Theyd spent years harvesting resentment, their grandmother regularly mourning how two girls could be so orphaned with both parents still drawing breath.
Naturally, Sandy let Alice and Molly stay running out a mother and child into the street would be a bit much, even by British standards.
A month later, Alice delivered yet another family plot twist: she vanished, returning to her sweet tormentor in the sticks, leaving little Molly behind. Fate now saddled Sandy and her husband with three granddaughters to care for.
The girls cherished their grandparents, aware of just how ironic it was to be orphaned in a three-bedroom semi. In that house, at least, there was warmth (and plenty of biscuits).
Time, the ultimate bulldozer, did its thing. Both Sandy and her husband eventually shuffled off this mortal coil, heading for celestial tea and scones.
Tessa married but her union remained childless. Sophie outwaited every suitor, ending up with impressive silver plaits and a remarkable collection of cat figurines. Molly had a baby at seventeen (identity of the father: classified) and promptly moved to her mothers rural bolt-hole.
Youth packed up and slipped away. Old age arrived without apology or a tip of the hat.
Alice, by now solitary her long-term partner claimed by his daughters to the city after illness struck was left holding nothing but grudges. When his daughters accused her of neglect, their parting comment was, Mind your own business, Alice. Stick to your own side of the hedge. Villagers called Alice a shameless so-and-so, as in a place as poky as that, everyones gossip is practically piped into your kitchen tap.
David, for his part, finally legged it from Gladys and made his wobbly escape from the sect. He rattled around his late mums flat, warming his feet on three cats and surviving on tepid tea and toast. That, as they say, was that.
And yet happiness had once knocked on David and Alices door. They just werent listening.
