Husband by Bequest
A tall, broad-shouldered woman steps out of the train compartment, her voice ringing loud and clear. In an instant shes sent off everyone whos been disturbing the passengers repose. Noteworthy is how quickly a bunch of cheeky, burly men obey her as if by command.
She has golden plaits wrapped around her head, bright blue eyes, and a rosy flush on her cheeks. She casts a look toward the loo. Just then, a short, slender man with hair as white as thistledown emerges, his face as bashful and innocent as a childs.
Harry! I was beginning to think Id lost you! I heard all that racket, the stewardess looked too nervous to check. Had me wondering how you wereyou never know with blokes like them, one wrong step and theyre trouble! the woman calls.
Oh, Vera! I was just about to show them a thing or two! Whatre you doing out here, darling? A lady like you, Harry replies, a shy smile creeping across his face as he slips back into the compartment.
Vera glances at me and a couple of other listless travellers. Finding no threat, she too disappears inside.
Later, we meet by chance in the dining carriage. All the tables are full, so I find myself taking a seat across from her. No sign of her husband. After devouring her steak and potatoes, the woman announces with gusto:
My names Vera Andrews. Just Vera, if you like.
Are you travelling alone? Perhaps your husbands joining you later? I ask.
Hes resting. Wont be coming out. I wrapped his neck up with a scarf and gave him some cranberry cordial. Can you imagine, on the very day of travel, Harry manages to catch a cold! He dashed out to shake the rug in nothing but a sweater. Thats what I get for not watching him! she answers, almost mournfully.
You must love him a lotrushing out, thinking youd meet a load of yobs in his place! Youre the one always protecting him, not the other way round. And you speak with such tenderness! I muse aloud.
Oh, Harry just sort of came to me by bequest, you know. Not really my husband, although we share a home. Poor souls still grieving. His first wife, an absolute angel, passed away only recently, Vera sighs.
By bequest? Hows that? I gasp.
And then Vera tells her story.
Harry used to be married to Lydia. They were friends from school, went to university together, and eventually wed. Incredibly inventive, Harry could come up with just about anything, clearly gifted, work just sort of fell into his lap. Financially, they were perfectly comfortable. The only trouble was, in ordinary life, Harry was completely hopeless. Hed forget his change at the shops, cross the road at all the wrong spots, hadnt the faintest clue where to buy what, or how life worked in practice. Naïvehed lend money to a stranger with a sob story.
Your mans not of this world, you know. Like he landed by mistake! Were slogging away and cant earn a thing, while money just tumbles into his lap, their friends would murmur, half-envious, half-baffled.
Lydia made no complaints. She more than made up for both their practicalities. She kitted Harry out for work herself, checking for gloves and a scarf. Eventually she bought a car so she could drive him, ever since Harry, deep in thought, gave the cabbie the wrong address and wound up God knows where. Oddly enough, together they made a perfect pair.
But when Lydia was hospitalised for a week, returning home she was horrified. Harry had been subsisting on dry pasta and water. He hadnt even bothered to boil a kettle, and all the meals shed stocked in the freezer remained untouched.
Its no good without you. I havent even got an appetite! Harry beamed.
Their son took after him in almost everythingAndrew, another prodigy, yet timid and forgetful. At least Andrews intellect was valued, and he found himself a gentle wife named Alice, a village girl. Lydia was, all told, head of the family, and was only too ready to carry the lot herself, especially after little Freddie was born. And then, suddenly, illness caught her, left her bedridden.
The house became desolate. Harry, panicked, had no idea what to do. Not that he didnt tryhe sought out the very best doctors and was ready to pay whatever it cost, but nothing could help her.
And Lydias heart brokenot for herself, but for her men. She endured it all heroically. But how could they manage without her? Theyd be lost, she thought like planting an orchid in a bitter English autumn and hoping itll bloom.
Instead of praying for herself, Lydia pleaded for her husband, son, and grandson. Thats when Vera arriveda carer, distantly related to Lydias consultant.
Veras first visit showed her the grim realityHarry, so delicate and gentle he mightve been a vicar in another life, met her at the door, barely audible. The place was in a state: clothes everywhere, dirty plates stacked high (though there was a dishwasher), an atmosphere thick with gloom.
In the bedroom, Lydia herselffrail, wide-eyed, but smiling at Vera. Vera sighed and rolled up her sleeves.
By evening, the flat was transformed: everything shining, the air clear. The kitchen was filled with the tantalising scent of meatballs, pies, and roast chicken. Rested in fresh bedding, Lydia finally slept. Harry, whod tried to sneak out in just a light jacket, was intercepted midstep by Veras thunderous voice:
Hold up! Where dyou think youre off to, dear, in that light coat? No way youre going out just to fall ill. Your wife needs you strong, not bedridden! Herethis jacket on, scarf round, and hat for your ears. Go on now, off you pop! Vera boomed.
From the other room Lydia wept with relief. The flat was warm again, Vera bustling about, barking orders like a bull in a china shopbut she was good at heart.
Thank you, Lord. Theyre safe now, Lydia whispers.
When things grew desperate, Lydia summoned Vera for a heart-to-heart, starting delicately, asking about where Vera lived and so on. Vera shared a small council flat with her mother and sisters family. Crowded, of course, which suited hershe was able to be away as much as possible, as home was busy without her. Shed rather have moved but couldnt afford to buy or rent on carers wages. She admitted, candidlyforty-five, never married. A few dalliances, but nothing serious. Not bothered, reallyshed live.
Then Lydia said, Vera, will you look after him when Im gone? Im leaving you my husband, so to speakmy bequest, if you will. He catches cold at the drop of a hat, trusts everyone!
Vera was speechless. By the time she found words to refuse, Lydia was already pleading, Dont say no! At least keep an eye on him, just at first. Vera, Id beg you on my knees if I could.
So Vera promised.
It wasnt long before Lydia passed. Vera thought to herself, No, this isnt for me. Ill be accused of going after a widower for his flat. Besides, we dont suit each other at all. What is he but a helpless soul?
Yet, reluctant though she was, shed given her word. One day she went round anywayno one at the door, but finding it unlocked, she wandered in. In Lydias old room, there was Harry, sitting on the floor clutching his late wifes dressing gown. He howled in such grief, like a lost dog, his whole body shaking. Vera hurried to him, he grabbed her hand and wept.
You poor thing. Lydia was rightyoure all at sea. Come on, have a cuppa, stick with me, and youll be alright, Vera fussed over him.
She couldnt help herselfalways so tender-hearted.
Little by little, the house came alive again. Harry waited at the front door each day for Veras visits, visibly cheered.
Eventually, I decided to move in. Whats the point of leaving him on his own? My lot were delighted, more room for them! Ive ended up with a grown child, really, not a man. But what a clever one! No money worrieshe made me quit all my other care jobs, you know, Id been working in several homes. There was some talk, but I shut that down. Why is it alright to rescue dogs and stray cats, but not a lost human? Hes as helpless as a tortoise stuck on its backhow can he live like that? Im here to help, as long as I can. Hes a good soul, Harry. Affectionate. Turns out, we really do need each other! Were off to see his son nowhes asked for help with the little one. And I couldnt be happier, Id take on ten grandchildren if need be! Vera tells me with a smile.
Just then, the door to the dining car opens, and Harry steps in, clutching a wildflower bouquet, wrapped in a huge scarf.
What are you doing up? Youre still weak! I cant leave you for a second, can I? Youve broken a sweat, best change your shirt straight away! And off Vera goes, guiding him out.
He mutters lovingly, Vera! I picked these flowers from the old ladies at the station for you. Do you like them?
Veras cheeks go even redder and she puts a hand fondly on his shoulder.
At their stop, they disembark, Vera hauling a massive suitcase, Harry following with a small bag. She grabs him by the collar, keeping him close as the crowd swirls pastjust to be sure he doesnt get lost. They beam at each other like two suns; clear to see, Vera will be his second wife, come what may.
