**A Fresh Start Is Always Possible**
“Mum, have you completely lost your mind?”
Emily’s words cut through Lydia like a knife to the ribs. It hurt. She kept peeling potatoes in silence, gripping the peeler a little tighter.
“People are already pointing fingers at us! Dad—fine, he’s a man, but you? A woman! The heart of the home! Aren’t you ashamed?”
A tear rolled down Lydia’s cheek, then another. Soon, they were streaming freely, but her daughter didn’t let up.
William, her husband, sat slumped in his chair, his lip jutting out.
“Dad’s health is rubbish, how could you?! He needs care!” William sniffled. “Is this how you treat him? He gave you his whole life, raised a child with you, and now—what? He gets ill, and you start looking elsewhere? No, love, that’s not how it’s done.”
“And how is it done, then?” Lydia asked softly.
“What?! Are you taking the mickey?! Dad, are you hearing this? She’s having a laugh!”
“Emma, you talk as if I’m not your mother but your worst enemy… Oh, how you care for your father…”
“Mum! What nonsense! Right, that’s it—I’m calling Nan and Gran. Let them sort you out! This is a disgrace!”
“Imagine,” Emma scoffed, turning to her father, “I’m walking home from uni, and there they are—strolling down the lane, arm in arm! Reciting poetry, no doubt. Love poems, eh, Mum? Probably wrote them himself!”
“You’re cruel, Emma. Cruel and foolish. Too young to understand…”
“Not a shred of remorse! Fine, I’m calling the grandmas!”
Lydia straightened up quietly, smoothed the wrinkles in her dress, brushed off invisible dust. She stood.
“Alright, my dears. I’m leaving.”
“Where to, Lyd?”
“I’m leaving you, Will.”
“What d’you mean, leaving?! Where?! What about me?!”
Emma was shouting furiously into the phone.
“Emm-maaa!” William wailed, as if at a funeral. “Emmaaa!”
“What, Dad?! Your back hurting?! Where?!”
“Oh, oh… Em… she… your mum… said she’s going…”
“Going where?! Mum, what on earth’s got into you?!”
Lydia gave a wry smile. She packed her things neatly into a suitcase.
She’d meant to leave once before, but then William fell ill—his sciatica flared up. The moaning, the whinging…
“Lyd… I think it’s a slipped disc…”
“The MRI showed nothing.”
“What do those doctors know?! They never say anything straight away!”
“Oh? Why’s that?”
“To bleed you dry! Same thing happened to Dave at work… ointments, pills, then—wham! A slipped disc! A rare one, too, no name for it!”
She hadn’t left then. Couldn’t abandon “poor Will.”
But now…
“How much longer have you got, Lyd?” her friend Sarah had said. “You’re slaving away for them like a convict. What’s Will ever given you? Sweet nothing!” She smacked the table.
“Spent his best years gallivanting! Like a tomcat! That hairdresser—what was her name…”
“Millie.”
“That’s the one! Dragged her around like a show pony! And you—two jobs, extra shifts, while he lazed on the sofa!”
“Sarah, you sound like you hate Will…” Lydia had timidly met her friend’s eyes.
“I’ll tell you why.”
Lydia braced herself.
“I’ve no reason to love your ‘darling.’ Remember when he tried it on with me? His birthday at the cottage, I’d had one too many, passed out… Woke up—he had one hand over my mouth, the other under my blouse.”
The worst part? His mother was in the next bed—watching. Later, she said, “Your fault, leading my Billy on.” Threatened that if I told you, she’d say I was the one chasing him.
That’s how it was.
Lydia had stayed silent.
How had she never seen it before?
She remembered other wives boasting about gifts, holidays together… And her? A hoover. A steamer, because Will liked dumplings. Perfume—his mother had kept it in the cabinet.
Sarah was right. She’d sleepwalked through life.
“Why did you marry him?”
“Felt sorry for him… Big glasses, useless at everything… His mum said, ‘He’s keen—just marry him, don’t embarrass yourself.'”
They’d cried, laughed, reminisced.
“If only I hadn’t pushed you away…”
“They convinced me married women don’t need friends.”
Lydia looked around the room.
Leaving was terrifying, but doable. Rent a flat. Divorce. Splitting assets… She’d earned it all herself.
Would Emma side with her father? So be it.
She wasn’t leaving for another man. Peter was just a friend.
She wanted peace.
***
Oh, how the relatives tore into her!
“Go back to your husband! Beg his forgiveness!” her mother screeched.
Her mother-in-law faked “chest pains,” but Lydia stepped right over her and kept walking.
And then…
Emma came to apologise.
They were learning to rebuild their relationship.
And Will? A month after the divorce, he was arm in arm with Millie. His back was fine.
Word was, Millie wouldn’t stand for nonsense…
But Lydia didn’t care.
She was learning to live again.
Emma booked her a spa day.
Peter invited her hiking—just like in their youth.
It’s never too late to start over.
Hard at first, then smooth sailing.
