After the betrayal of his wife and friends, a once-prosperous man returned to his hometown. By his mothers grave, he stood frozen in shock.
Alfred stopped the car. How many times had he meant to visit, yet never found the time? He hadnt been there for his mother while she lived, nor after she passed. The thought filled him with self-loathing. It would have taken so little to wake himto make him see that the world he had built was nothing but an illusion. Not a word, not a deed had held real meaning. Strangely, he felt a twisted gratitude toward Emily, his former wife, for tearing the veil from his eyes.
In a single moment, everything had crumbled. His picture-perfect marriage, his circle of friendsall had been hollow. His wife and his closest friend had betrayed him, while others who knew the truth stayed silent. It was utter ruin. Everyone he trusted had turned against him. After the divorce, Alfred went back to his roots. Eight years had passed since his mothers funeral, and not once in all that time had he visited her grave. Only now did he understandshe had been the one person who would never betray him.
Alfred had married late, at thirty-three. Emily was twenty-five then, and oh, how he had swelled with pride whenever she stood beside himelegant, refined. Later, when she screamed in his face that she had hated him all along, that intimacy with him had been torture, he realized how blind hed been. Her face, twisted with rage, had looked monstrous. Yet he had nearly relented. Emily had wept so convincingly, begging for forgiveness, claiming he was always too busy, that she had been so alone.
But when he stood firm on the divorce, her mask slipped. Alfred stepped out of the car, lifting a grand bouquet. He walked slowly along the cemetery path. After so many years, the grave must have been overgrown. He hadnt even come when the headstone was placedeverything arranged online, distantly. A whole life could slip by like that.
To his surprise, the plot was immaculatenot a weed in sight. Someone had tended to it. Who? One of his mothers old friends, perhaps. Still alive, no doubt, unlike her neglectful son. He unlatched the gate. Hello, Mum, he whispered. His throat tightened, his eyes stung. Tears spilled down his cheeks.
Alfreda hardened businessman who never weptnow sobbed like a child. And he didnt try to stop it. The tears seemed to cleanse him, washing away the taint of Emily and the rest. It was as if his mother gently stroked his hair, murmuring, There now, love. Itll be alright, youll see. He sat in silence, speaking to her in his mind. He remembered skinned knees, her dabbing iodine on the cuts, blowing softly to soothe him. All my boys scraped their knees, shed say. Theyll heal, you wont even remember the pain. And they did. With each fall, the hurt grew easier to bear.
You can grow used to anythingexcept betrayal, she used to say. Now he grasped the weight of those words. At the time, they had seemed ordinary. Only now did he see the wisdom in them. She had raised him alone, without coddling him, shaping him into a decent man.
He lost track of timedeliberately. For once, he felt at peace. He decided to stay in town a few days. The house needed settling. He could afford to pay a neighbor to keep an eye on it, but how much longer would it sit empty? He smiled, recalling the neighbors daughter. When arranging the caretaking, hed met Charlotte. Hed been bitter then, drowning in misery. Charlotte had been kind. They met one evening, talked, and things unfolded naturally. By morning, he was gone, leaving a note about where to leave the key.
In her eyes, he might have seemed callous. But he had made no promises. It had been mutual. Charlotte had fled a tyrant of a husband, she told him. They both needed comfort. That was all.
Mister, could you help me? A childs voice broke his thoughts. Turning, he saw a girl of seven or eight, clutching an empty pail.
I need water for the flowers. Mum and I just planted them, but shes poorly today. Its so hottheyll wither. The taps just there, but the pails too heavy. I dont want Mum to know I came alone. If I fetch little bits at a time, itll take forever, and shell notice.
Alfred grinned. Of course. Show me.
The girl chattered nonstop as they walked. Within minutes, he knew everythinghow shed warned her mother not to drink cold water in the heat, how her mum had fallen ill anyway. Lily had come to tidy her grandmothers grave; Gran would have scolded Mum for being careless. Oh, and Lily had been at school a whole year nowtop of her class, dreaming of gold stars.
Alfred felt lighter. Children were so guileless! He realized now how happy he would have been with a simple, loving wife and childsomeone to welcome him home. Emily had been like a porcelain doll, shuddering at the thought of motherhood. Only a fool ruins her looks for a squalling brat, shed sneered. Their marriage had lasted five years. Not a single warm memory remained.
He set the pail inside the plot, watching Lily water the blooms. Then he froze. The photograph on the headstone was his neighborthe woman whod watched the house. Charlottes mother. He stared at the girl. Margaret Hayesyour grandmother?
Yes. Did you know her?
Butwait, you were at her grave just now. Mum and I always tend it, bring fresh flowers.
You and your mum? Alfred faltered.
Yes. I told youMum doesnt let me come alone.
Lily grabbed the pail, glancing around. Id best go. Shell ask questions, and Im rubbish at fibbing.
Wait, let me drive you.
Lily shook her head. Stranger danger, mister. Mum would have my hide. She darted off.
Alfred returned to his mothers grave, sitting in quiet confusion. Something wasnt right. Charlotte had only visited her mother temporarily. Now it seemed she lived herewith a daughter.
He hadnt known about Lily. How old was she? Perhaps Charlotte had remarried. Still pondering, he rose and drove to his childhood home. His chest ached. Nothing had changed. Any moment, he half-expected his mother to step onto the porch, wiping her hands on her apron before sweeping him into her arms.
He lingered in the car, but no one came. At last, he entered the yard. The garden was thrivingneat, cared for. Well done, Charlotte. Hed thank her properly. Inside, the house gleamed, as if someone lived there still. Alfred sat at the kitchen table, then stood abruptly. Best settle things with the neighbor first.
Lily answered the door. Oh, its you! She pressed a finger to her lips. Mum mustnt know about the cemetery, alright?
Alfred mimed locking his mouth, making her giggle.
Come in. Charlottes voice carried from the next room. Im better now, but dont get too closejust in case.
Her eyes widened when she saw him. You?
He smiled. Hello. Glancing around, he asked, Wheres your husband? Though he already sensed the answerthere was no one.
Alfred, I Im sorry I never told you about your mother. Work was scarce here, so I looked after the house myself.
Thank you, Charlotte. Coming backits like she just stepped out. Everythings spotless. Are you staying long?
Just a few days.
Any thoughts on selling the house?
He shrugged. Havent decided. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out an envelope. This is for youfor taking such good care of things.
She balked at the thick wad of notes. Alfred, no!
Lily beamed. Thanks, Uncle Alfie! Mums been dying for a new dress, and I want a bicycle.
He laughed. Clever girl. Just like him at that agenever one to let money pass by.
By evening, Alfred was feverish. He rummaged for his mothers old thermometer, then texted Charlotte: What do I take for a high temperature?
Ten minutes later, she and Lily were at his door. Good Lord, why did you come inside? Did I give this to you?
Youre ill yourselfstop fussing.
Charlotte handed him pills; Lily brewed tea.
Shell scald herself.
Lily? Never. More likely me. Shes clever with her hands.
Alfred smiled. Then, like a puzzle clicking into place, a thought struck him. Charlotte
