**”A Late Farewell: Goodbye on the Way Home”**
After kissing his mistress tenderly goodbye, Philip Carson climbed into his car and drove home. He paused for a moment outside their terraced house, taking a deep breath, silently rehearsing the words he would say to his wife. He unlocked the door and stepped inside.
“Hello,” Philip said. “Eleanor, are you home?”
“I am,” his wife replied coolly. “Hello. Right then, shall I fry the chops?”
Philip had promised himself he would be direct, resolutea man of action! It was time to end this double life while the warmth of his lovers kiss still lingered, before routine swallowed him whole again.
“Eleanor,” he coughed, steadying his voice. “I’ve come to tell you… we have to separate.”
The news was met with eerie calm. Eleanor wasnt one for hysterics. Once, Philip had even called her “Eleanor the Ice Queen” for it.
“What do you mean?” she asked, unmoving in the kitchen doorway. “Shant I fry the chops?”
“Thats up to you,” Philip said. “If you want to, do; if not, dont. Im leaving. For another woman.”
Most wives would react with furya frying pan hurled at his head, perhaps. But Eleanor wasnt most women.
“Oh, what a tragedy,” she murmured. “Did you fetch my boots from the cobblers?”
“No,” Philip admitted, thrown. “If its so important, Ill go get them now!”
“Listen to you,” Eleanor muttered. “Same as always, Philip. Send a fool for your boots, and he brings back the old ones.”
Philip bristled. The confrontation hed imagined was crumbling. Where were the tears, the shouting, the righteous rage? What else could he expect from a woman with nerves as cold as Eleanor the Ice Queen?
“I dont think youre hearing me, Eleanor!” he raised his voice. “Im telling you Im leaving you for someone else, and youre talking about boots!”
“Precisely,” Eleanor replied. “Unlike me, you can go wherever you like. Your boots arent at the cobblers. Whats stopping you?”
Theyd been together for years, yet Philip could never tell when Eleanor was serious or jesting. Once, that quiet strengththat composurehad drawn him in. That, and her striking beauty, her practicality. Eleanor was steady, loyal, immovable as a stone. But now Philip loved anotherwildly, sinfully, sweetly! It was time to cut ties and start anew.
“So its settled, Eleanor,” he declared, solemn yet bitter. “Im grateful for everything, but Im leaving. I love someone else. I dont love you anymore.”
“Incredible,” Eleanor said dryly. “Doesnt love me, the poor lamb. My mother fancied the neighbour, my father adored dominoes and whisky. And look what a marvel I turned out to be.”
Arguing with Eleanor was futile. Every word landed like a blow. His initial fire waned, and the fight drained from him.
“You really are something, Eleanor,” Philip muttered. “But I love another. Passionately, sinfully, sweetly. And Im goingunderstand?”
“Who is she?” Eleanor asked. “Tanya Miller, isnt it?”
Philip recoiled. A year ago, hed had a fling with Tanyabut how could Eleanor know?
“How did you?” he stammered. “Never mind. No, Eleanor, its not Miller.”
Eleanor sighed.
“Then its Sandra Whitby? You went back to her?”
Philips spine prickled. Sandra had been another affair, long buried. If Eleanor knew, why had she never said a word? But of courseshe was a fortress, revealing nothing.
“Wrong again,” Philip insisted. “Not Whitby or Miller. Someone elsewonderful, the love of my life. I cant live without her. Dont try to stop me!”
“Then it must be Mabel,” Eleanor concluded. “Oh, Philip, Philip… youre hopeless. Your grand secret. The love of your lifeMabel Venton, thirty-five, one child, two miscarriages… Am I right?”
Philip clutched his head. Shed hit the mark! His affair was indeed with Mabel.
“But how?” he gasped. “Who told you? Have you been spying?”
“Elementary, Philip,” Eleanor replied. “You know Ive been a gynaecologist for years. Ive examined half the women in this cityyouve only known a fraction. One look tells me where youve been, you silly sod!”
Philip exhaled sharply, struggling to salvage his dignity.
“Suppose youre right!” he proclaimed. “Even if its Mabel, nothing changes. Im leaving.”
“You really are dim, Philip,” Eleanor sighed. “You couldve asked. Theres nothing special about hershes the same as the rest. I say that as a doctor. Have you seen your darlings medical history?”
“N-no,” he admitted.
“Right. First, get in the shower. Second, Ill ring Dr. Parsons tomorrowskip the queue. Then well talk. Shamefula gynaecologists husband picking a poorly woman!”
“What should I do?” Philip whined.
“Ill fry the chops,” Eleanor said, turning away. “Youwash up and do as you please. If you want a healthy woman, let me know… Ill recommend someone.”
