Weve lived together for forty years, and now, at sixty-three, you decide its time for a change?
Margaret sits in her favourite armchair, gazing out of the window, hoping to forget the events of the day. Only a few hours ago, she was bustling around the kitchen preparing dinner, waiting for Harold to return from fishing. He came home, not with a catch, but with news hed wanted to share for a while, though never found the courage.
I want a divorce, Margaret. I hope youll understand, Harold says unexpectedly, eyes downcast. The girls are grown, theyll understand too, and the grandchildren wont mind. We can end things quietly, without arguing.
Forty years under one roof, and now at sixty-three you want to cast it all aside? Margaret can barely comprehend. Dont I deserve to know what happens next?
Youll stay here in the city flat, Ill move to the cottage, Harold replies, his decision sounding rehearsed. Theres nothing for us to divide, and after all, everything will go to our daughters eventually.
Whats her name? Margaret asks, accepting the inevitable.
Harold flushes and starts fussing with his coat, pretending not to hear the question. His behaviour removes any doubt; there is someone else. Back in their youth, Margaret never imagined she would be left alone in old age, her husband going off with another woman.
Maybe things will settle, and youll be alright, her daughters, Victoria and Emily, comfort her. Dads actions arent worth dwelling on now.
Theres nothing to be done, Margaret sighs. Theres no point shaking things up, Ill just see out my days as best I can, hoping for your happiness.
Victoria and Emily make a trip out to the cottage for a crucial talk with their father. They come back subdued, holding back the truth from Margaret but subtly shifting their advice. Now they insist she might be better off alone, without anyone else to care for. Margaret understands, choosing not to quiz her daughters, trying just to get on with life. It isnt easyfamily and friends all suddenly seem fascinated with her situation.
Just imagine, after all those years together, hes gone off with another woman at his age, the neighbours chime in, tact not their strong suit. Is she younger than you, or just richer?
Margaret never knows quite how to respond. She finds herself more and more curious about her rival, wanting at least to see the woman whos replaced her. Spurred on, she visits Harold at the cottage under the pretext of collecting some homemade chutney shed stored there over the summer. She doesnt give notice, hoping for a chance encounterand ends up face to face with her replacement.
Harold, you never said your ex-wife would turn up here, complains the flamboyant woman in too-bright makeup. I thought youd sorted things out, and she had no business here.
Is this who you left me for? Margaret asks, sizing up her brazen successor.
Are you just going to stand there, letting her insult me? snaps the woman. For what its worth, Im only a few years younger than you, but I look far better.
If she really imagines a bold exterior is the most important thing at her age… Margaret mutters, catching Harolds embarrassed glance.
On her entire walk to the bus stop Margaret hears the shrill voice of the ageing, dolled-up Barbie behind her, struggling not to cry. Only once shes home does she let her emotions take over, ringing her sister Susan and asking her round for tea.
Dont let it get to you, Susan says, making them a pot of peppermint tea. You told me yourself Harolds new wife isnt attractive, and, it seems, not very sharp either.
Perhaps shes got a point though and I really do look my age, Margaret wavers.
You look perfectly well for your years, Susan assures her. Its simply ridiculous to wear leopard print leggings or a mini-skirt in your seventies. A woman can be beautiful at any age, if she carries herself well and dresses suitably.
Margaret examines herself in the mirror, realising Susan is right. Her health is generally good, she keeps fit, and her daughters often treat her to nice cosmetics. She never resorted to garish anticsshed never act like the woman shed just met.
Well now, Susan continues, since youre a free woman, you can embrace life. The girls look after themselves, there are plenty of opportunities for culture and leisure at our age. Im not letting you give up.
Susan keeps her word, whisking Margaret off to theatres, on walks, and to concerts. Soon, a lively group of peers forms around them. Even a gentleman starts to pay Margaret attention, though she quietly puts a stop to that and declines special outings.
Rumour has it youre out at the theatre now, found new friends, maybe youll remarry? Harold teases after running into her at the supermarket.
What brings you so far from the cottage for the shoppingnothing closer, or does your new wife not cook? Margaret retorts.
Ive always shopped here, old habits die hard, Harold grumbles.
Margaret lets the subject drop and heads home. At that moment, Harold feels a strong urge to catch up to her, to confess how deeply he regrets the divorce. Throughout his life, hed depended on his wife, was swept up by the vivacious Annabel, and whirled away in her dramas.
At first, life with Annabel seemed exciting, then he found out she hated household work, preferred gossiping and flirting, relished rowdy parties. Lately, Harold finds himself longing for home, and after seeing Margaret, the feeling intensifies. Margaret hasnt made scenes, hurled insults or caused a stirshe simply, with quiet dignity, adapts to her new life. Harold never expected to miss the calm and comfort he only ever felt with Margaret.
Youve bought apricots again, I asked for prunes, Annabel scolds, inspecting his shopping. And the cheese is too lean, and youve forgotten the mayonnaise altogether.
In the past, Margaret did the shopping, or wed do it together, but you insist its all my responsibility now, Harold snaps.
Oh, stop comparing me to your ex, Annabel shouts. Youll be saying you regret leaving her for me next!
The truth is, Harold does regret it, though he knows theres no use in saying so. Margaret never plotted or played games; she just remains herself, while her former husband bitterly rues his choices and dreams of earning her forgiveness.
But he knows all too wellshell never trust or take him back. He picks up the phone a few times, unable to dial, until after another row with Annabel he even turns up at the door of his old flat.
Do you need to collect anything? Margaret asks, blocking the doorway.
I just wanted to talk. Do you have a minute? Harold stammers, catching the scent of her famous plum tart wafting from the kitchen.
I have no time, no reason, and no interest, she replies coolly. Take what you need, Im expecting guests.
Harold finds nothing to collect; plenty he wants to say, but the words remain elusive. He returns to the cottage and sets about making supper alone; Annabel is out and about in the village yet again. When she comes home rather tipsy, Harold finally feels resolved, telling her to gather her things.
After Annabels parting tirade, Harold nearly phones Margaret to explainbut thinks better of it and calms himself. He knows her too well to hold out false hope for forgiveness or reconciliation.
Perhaps, one day, he could go to her, apologise, and talk it through. Otherwise, hed never have peace. He even dares to hope she might forgive him, although he knows that would never mean patching up the marriage. Margaret could never forgive such betrayal, and Harold knew it when he started the affair with Annabel.
Now, he lives alone at the cottage, while Margarets life unfolds in the city flat, surrounded by daughters, grandchildren, trips to the theatre and concerts. Her former husbands place in this new chapter simply doesnt exist.
