She Betrayed Her Fathers Memory
Lydia Simmons had been wandering aimlessly through the little backstreets for well over an hour, though the bakery was only a five-minute walk from her flat. But somehow, this evening felt especially bleak. There was no part of her that wanted to go home home was just a cold kettle, an unwashed kitchen floor, and her plump, aging cat Brian, who had become her only real companion in recent years, if she didnt count the television. She kept that on from the crack of dawn until she went to bed, just so the voices of presenters might give her some faint illusion that life was bustling around her.
Her legs ached, her knee throbbed dully, and the weather, a persistent drizzle, was typical English misery. Still, Lydia took herself to the little playground at the edge of the green. The swings and benches were long since wet through, but she perched on a corner of the bench beneath the rusted old shelter, stuffing her gloved hands into the pockets of her woollen overcoat, which shed had for some seven years but there was no point buying a new one now.
Life had been very different, back in the days when her husband, Edward, was alive. The flat used to be noisy, cramped with two kids her eldest, Rob, and his younger sister, Alice. Now, with Rob and Alice grown and gone, fifteen years since Edwards funeral, the home was hollow. She had given everything to those children, yet they had flown the nest and built their lives far away. Rob moved down to Cornwall with his wife and two children, while Alice married some up-and-coming IT bloke and set off to London, jetting off for work and fancy holidays. They remembered her mostly on birthdays, sending the obligatory Happy birthday, Mum! Love you! and sharing photos of her grandchildren children who hardly seemed hers at all, who never visited for long summers because there were language camps, trips to Spain, and tutors to see.
Lydia sighed, watching a fat crow pick its way across the glistening tarmac in search of scraps. She used to believe her children would be a comfort to her in old age; that there would be grandchildren at her feet, popping round or calling each evening. But the truth was more ordinary and dull: Rob rang her maybe once a month, always the same: How are you, Mum? All fine? Were busy with work, kids arent well you know how it is. Alice thought that transferring a little money to her bank was the sum of her obligations she could live in peace then, guilt repaid.
So, life after retirement had become an endless, looping day: wake up, turn on the TV, feed Brian, cook herself porridge or eggs, more TV, lunch, TV, a short stroll in the evening, TV, and sleep. Sometimes Lydia caught herself talking aloud, commenting on the television or even muttering at it when the presenters said something particularly daft. Brian, at such moments, would glance sideways at her with a yellow eye, thump his tail, and pad off to nap in the armchair.
She didnt want to go back indoors this evening. The flat was stiflingly empty. So even when the drizzle became more insistent, she curled herself deeper into her coat, tugged her knitted hat lower over her forehead, and stayed put.
Lydia? A voice startled her from the side. Lydia, is that you?
She looked up, heart quickening. Standing beside the bench was a tall, stooped man in an old-fashioned brown raincoat and cap, silvery hair poking out at the sides, sharp grey eyes behind thick glasses. She recognised him instantly Geoffrey Peters, from the next block along. He, too, always seemed to be shuffling about the green with his cane. They had often nodded to each other in the lift, exchanged the usual remarks about the weather, then parted ways.
Geoff? Lydia blinked in surprise. What on earth are you doing out in this rain? Youll catch your death.
And you? he smiled, carefully spreading a newspaper on the sodden bench before sitting next to her. Ive seen you out here nearly two hours now watched from my window. Thought youd head home, but you just sat. Thought Id better come see if youre alright.
Im fine, she waved a dismissive hand. Just dont feel like going home, thats all. Its unspeakably lonely, Geoff. Sometimes its enough to make you howl.
I know the feeling, he nodded, pulling a silver hip flask from his inside pocket. Brandy, he explained when she looked at him. Medicinal. A little warmth for miserable evenings. Would you like some? Im not much of a drinker, but on nights like this, a splash is just the ticket.
Lydia hesitated, then thought: why not? Who would see or care? She took the flask and managed a tiny sip. The fiery liquid burnt her throat, but left a glow in its wake.
Thank you, she murmured, handing the flask back.
So, what about you? she added after a moment. Werent you married?
I was, Geoffrey heaved a sigh, helping himself to a sip. Lost her three years ago. Sons are in London, one in Islington, one in Bromley. Family, work theyre busy, only visit every few months, phone on Sundays. Thats life. What about you?
My children are far off, Lydia said briefly. They rarely ring. And Edwards been gone a long time.
I see. Geoffrey nodded. A pair of old boots in the same muddy puddle, then. Two lonely souls.
They said nothing for a while, watching the rain spatter into puddles. The silence wasnt heavy it was somehow companionable, as if theyd known each other years and had already spoken all that needed saying.
You know, Lydia, said Geoffrey after a spell, sounding suddenly sheepish, Ive kept an eye out for you for some time. Youre always so neat and brisk, walking round the green, always alone. I kept thinking I should come and say hello but I lost my nerve. But tonight, sitting here in the rain like a statue, I thought: it must be fate.
Lydia couldnt help a surprised smile. Watching me? Whatever for?
What else have I got to do? he said, half laughing. I see you from the window, set on your walks at the same time each day. I worry if youre late. Habit, I suppose.
Well, I never, she shook her head, but felt a flicker of warmth and strange lightness. Someone was watching out for her, waiting, caring. I didnt know.
So, shall we walk together sometimes? Geoffrey suggested. Its better with company, and its safer too. Ive a cane, after all in case you ever need defending.
Defending from what the crows? Lydia laughed for the first time in ages.
And from those too, he grinned. Well? Deal?
Deal, she nodded.
From then on, everything changed. Unless the sky was truly falling, they met every evening and strolled around the park behind the flats. She learnt Geoffrey had been an engineer, drawing up countless mechanical designs, before retiring and taking up reading history and writing little pieces for the local paper. Lydia, an ex-bookkeeper, knew little about history, but she loved to listen and ask good questions. He, in turn, enjoyed her tales of the children, how she and Edward had built their little allotment shed, later sold for next to nothing as no one in the family wanted it.
Their talks ran late into the night. On benches beneath old sycamores, they would sit and forget the time, and Lydia found herself smiling as she climbed the stairs home. Even her flat grew cosier now she cooked not just for herself but for Geoffrey as well, planning little treats to share. She baked pasties, and even Brian, lured by the smell, grew more affectionate.
A month later, Geoffrey stayed the night for the first time. It just happened: theyd talked over tea and suddenly it was half past midnight. Lydia had hesitated only a moment before saying, Geoff, just stay over. The spare rooms ready, and theres plenty of space.
Are you sure Im not intruding? Hope glimmered in his eyes.
Dont be silly, she waved a hand. Its no trouble at all.
And so, little by little, Geoffrey left slippers, a toothbrush, and later a suitcase of belongings in Lydias home. Mornings, she woke to hear him puttering in her kitchen, and felt unburdened, almost young again. The telly was seldom on, except for the news or an old film they always had plenty to say to each other without it. Brian, initially affronted, hissed at the new arrival but soon surrendered, curling up on Geoffreys feet.
Geoff, Lydia said one evening at the kitchen table, how about we make cabbage rolls tomorrow? Im ever so fond, but I never make them for myself alone.
Lets do it, he grinned. Ill get the mince, you sort the rice.
They did, too preparing dinner side by side in Lydias tiny kitchen, so cheerful and content she felt it must be some late-in-life miracle.
Yet, a shadow lurked the thought of her children. Lydia struggled with telling them about Geoffrey. She knew Rob and Alice had adored their father; Edward was their hero, and she dreaded that theyd see a new man as some kind of betrayal. Fifteen years had passed, but especially Rob still measured everything by his father whenever they spoke, it was always Dad would have done this or Dad would have said that.
Sensing her anxiety, Geoffrey never pressed. Lydia, your family is your business, he told her. Whenever youre ready. Ill wait.
But time passed, and Lydias birthday drew near. Suddenly, her children announced their plans to visit. Rob texted: Mum, Alice and I are coming to see you for your big birthday. What do you want as a present? All of us, with the kids, for three days. Its been too long weve missed you. Lydia was delighted, then caught by panic. She paced her flat half the night, wondering what to do.
Geoff, she said over supper, Ive got a bit of a situation. The children are coming for the weekend, all of them. With the grandchildren.
Alright, he said, spooning up some mash. Youll introduce us.
Im not sure, she confessed. They well, they might misunderstand. They loved their father so. What if theres trouble?
What kind of trouble? He looked at her. Lydia, were not teenagers having an affair. Were two lonely souls, sharing our days. Whats so wrong in that? Do you really think your children wont understand?
I dont know, she sighed. Rob can be quick-tempered If you could perhaps stay at your place for a few days? Let me talk to them first, prepare them. Then you might pop in and Ill introduce everyone.
Geoffrey was silent for a long time. Then he put down his fork.
Lydia, are you serious? he said, quiet. What am I to you? Secret lover, to be hidden away? Weve lived together almost half a year. I love you, and now you want to kick me out because your children are visiting?
Geoff, dont say that! Her eyes pricked with tears. Just for a couple of days. Let me talk to them first. Please.
Alright, he said, voice tired. Whatever you want. Ill pack my things and leave tomorrow. But, Lydia, remember, I love you. I just cant be hidden away.
Next day, Geoffrey left. The flat seemed instantly empty and cold, no matter how the radiators hummed. Brian prowled the rooms, mewing, looking for Geoffrey. Lydia sighed, stroked the cat, and waited.
The family arrived early Saturday morning. Rob, with his wife Helen and two lively boys aged eight and ten, came in their car; Alice, her husband Peter, and little Katie arrived by taxi from the station. The flat filled with chatter, commotion, perfume, and the thudding of running feet. Lydia bustled about, laying the table, arranging plates, and glancing at the cupboard door behind which, hidden, lay Geoffreys slippers.
That evening, after supper and with the grandchildren tucked in bed, Lydia summoned Rob and Alice to the kitchen. Her heart hammered, hands shaking, but she braced herself.
Children, she began as they sat. I need to talk to you about something serious.
What is it, Mum? Rob, now broad and balding, was already wary. Are you unwell?
No, not ill, she managed. Its justIve met someone. Geoffrey Peters. For the past six months, hes been living with me.
The silence was absolute. Rob froze, cup in hand. Alice, lean and blonde and manicured, folded her arms and stared.
What does that mean living with you? she said, her voice frosty. Mum, have you lost your senses? How old are you?
Sixty-five, Lydia answered quietly. But Im not dead yet, Alice.
Whats that to do with it? Rob snapped, banging his cup down. This is Dads flat. The home we grew up in and now youve moved some strange man in here?
Hes not a stranger, Lydia tried. Hes a good man, a retired engineer, and we
I dont care if he built rockets! Rob cut her off. Mum, youve betrayed Dads memory. Dont you get it? He lived for you and for us and now you bring another man under his roof!
Dont shout, Rob, youll wake the children, Alice snapped, but she was shaking. Mum, we know you get lonely, but this? Did you ask us? Did you think of us at all?
Should I need your permission to decide who I live with? Lydia said, voice trembling. Im an adult I have the right to my own life.
Your own life? Rob sneered. At sixty-five! You should think of your grandchildren, notthis. And we all came to see you, as if nothings wrong. But youve youve chosen someone over us. Where is he now? Have you hidden him?
Hes gone. I asked him to go, so you wouldnt find a strange man as soon as you arrived. I needed to talk to you first.
To prepare us? Alice sneered, arms folded. Well, youve failed, Mum. Were in shock. Honestly, Im ashamed in front of Peter. My mother, shacking up with a man! What am I to tell him?
Alice, stop! Lydia cried, tears streaming now. Hes not just anyone. We walk together, cook together, watch TV. Were not doing anything wicked!
Oh, you just watch TV, do you? Rob mocked. So, Dads memory counts for nothing? You just bring a random in off the street?
Dont you dare talk about him like that! she shouted. You dont even know him!
I dont want to, Rob roared. Heres how it is, Mum: its us or him. If you keep seeing him, count us out. Dont expect to see us or your grandkids we wont have them round this kind of example.
Exactly, Alice chimed in. This is a matter of principle. You choose: us or him.
Lydia bowed her head, tears splashing onto the new tablecloth shed put out for their visit. She wanted to say she loved them both, that Geoffrey was dear to her too, that she couldnt choose, but the words clogged her throat. Rob and Alice, glaring at each other, stood and swept out.
That night, Lydia couldnt sleep. She lay staring at the ceiling, thinking of Geoffrey bringing her flowers, sharing their laughter at rubbish TV, stroking Brian, kissing her cheek at bedtime. And then her childrens faces angry, cold.
In the morning, she was hollow and headachey, barely able to drag herself to the kitchen. Rob was already there, sipping coffee while Helen fried eggs.
You alright, Mum? Helen asked softly. You dont look well.
Im fine, Lydia mumbled, making herself tea.
Mum, Rob began, setting his cup aside, Alice and I have talked. Were leaving today. Dont want to celebrate your birthday in this atmosphere.
Leaving? But you only
Thats it. Robs voice was steely. I dont want my boys seeing their grandmother living like that. Gifts are in the hall. Well call you later.
Rob, please But he was already gone.
Within the hour, the flat emptied. Lydia stood surrounded by unopened presents and felt shed been knifed in the back.
All day, she sat in her chair, staring at the silent television. Brian curled in her lap, purring, but it was no comfort. By evening, she picked up her phone and dialled Geoffreys number.
Geoff, she said, voice hollow, dont come any more. We cant see each other.
Lydia, whats wrong? he sounded frightened. Are you crying? Is it them?
Its them, she breathed. Very much them. They said if I keep seeing you, theyre gone for good. And the grandchildren too.
And you chose them? After a long silence, he asked quietly. You do realise theyre blackmailing you? Theyve no right.
I know, she sobbed. But theyre my children, Geoff. Youre wonderful but Forgive me. Please.
Lydia his voice trembled. Dont do this. Were family now, you and me. I love you. Theyre just possessive, cant you see that?
I know, she whispered. But its the only way. Im sorry. Goodbye.
She hung up, switched off her phone, curled into the chair clutching Brian, and wept as she hadnt even after Edward died for then, she still had her children. Now, she was alone.
Two months went by. Lydia, once again, kept the telly blaring, chattered to the presenters, cooked only for herself. Brian often sat by the door, casting mournful looks, as if to ask: Well? Wheres Geoff? Whens he coming? She petted him and kept silent.
More than once, she nearly phoned Geoffrey but each time, she remembered her promise to the children and her hand hovered, shaking, over the phone. The children hardly contacted her now. Rob managed the occasional All okay, Mum? by text, Alice only shared photos of Katie. No one asked how she felt, if she needed anything. The days passed, and Lydia felt herself drift further from her children than ever.
One evening, coming home with groceries, she ran into Mrs Jenkins from the floor below, the worlds leading gossip.
Lydia! she exclaimed. Ive noticed youre on your own again. Wheres Geoffrey? Havent seen him in ages did you have a falling out?
No, Mrs Jenkins, Lydia said softly. We parted ways.
Oh, thats a shame, Mrs Jenkins tutted. You made a lovely couple. Poor old things looking peaky lately. Saw him walking with his stick barely upright! His son came round last week, but didnt stay long.
Hes not well? Lydias heart skipped a beat. Whats wrong?
Who knows? Doesnt look good dreadfully thin and pale.
Lydia stood by the lift as the doors closed, frozen in place. Her thoughts whirled: Hes ill, alone. And I just sit here, waiting for children whove all but forgotten me. What have I done? Why did I let him go?
She entered her flat, put down her shopping, stared long at the phone, then dialled. Ring, ring she almost pressed end when a frail, raspy voice answered.
Yes?
Its me, Geoff, she murmured. How are you?
Lydia? She heard him cough. Youre calling? The children given their permission?
Dont start on the children, her own voice shook. Are you sick? Why didnt you tell me?
What for? he laughed mirthlessly. You chose. I didnt want to burden you.
Dont be daft, Lydia wiped away tears. Im coming round now. Wait for me.
Pulling on her coat, she raced next door, climbed the stairs, and finally, at the third knock, the door opened. There stood Geoffrey, much thinner, face gaunt, but with that familiar gentle smile.
Lydia Why have you come?
Dont be silly, Geoff, she said, stepping inside and hugging him fiercely. And call me a fool too. Ive finally realised my children left me, they dont need me. But you youre family to me.
He hugged her tight, and they stood together in the hallway for a long, long time. Then Lydia coaxed him to the kitchen, filled the kettle, unbagged groceries, and started preparing dinner.
Tomorrow Ill call Rob, she said, setting out cups for tea. Tell them they can either accept you, or forget me completely. Ive chosen.
Lydia, I dont want you to fall out with your children for my sake, he protested.
I do, Geoff. Lydias voice was sure. Ive spent half my life for them, and now they hold me hostage. Enough. I deserve happiness too. And my happiness is with you.
She fed him, put him to bed, and stayed over. In the morning, without hesitation, she rang her son.
Rob, she declared, Ive decided. Geoffrey and I are going to live together. We love each other. If you and Alice cant accept it, thats your business but I am your mother, and I have my own life. I am not betraying your fathers memory, and its not for you to judge me.
Silence, then Rob: Mum, you must have lost your mind. We warned you.
You did, she agreed calmly. But I am choosing myself. Visit, if you like. Or dont. I love you, but I wont be managed any longer.
She hung up and let out a deep breath. For the first time, she felt truly free.
A week later, a message from Alice: Mum, Rob and I talked. We dont approve, but if it makes you happier visit your grandchildren whenever. Just dont mention Geoffrey. Its uncomfortable for us.
Lydia read the message, sighed, and put the phone away. She knew their full acceptance was unlikely, but this was a compromise. What mattered was that Geoffrey sat beside her, Brian delicately curled in his lap, and the television, for once, was silent, because at last she had someone to talk to.
Geoff, she smiled, shall we make cabbage rolls tomorrow? I bought a lovely cabbage.
Lets do it, he grinned, his grey eyes brightening. Ill fetch the mince, you boil the rice.He kissed her hand, laughter and tenderness bubbling up between them in the quiet kitchen. Lydia glanced out the window, watching the drizzle swirl in the streetlights, but for once the rain seemed gentle, almost golden.
As they set about gathering ingredients, she felt, not the weight of lonely years, but the thrill of new beginningslate and fragile perhaps, but deeply real. Together, they chopped, stirred, tasted, and talkedof history, of children, of the lives they had led and the years yet to come.
At supper, with cabbage rolls steaming in the dish and Brian purring beneath the table, Lydia met Geoffreys gaze and saw her own courage reflected in his tired, shining eyes. Yes, there was heartache in the past, and uncertainty waiting in tomorrows shadows, but tonighttonight she belonged to herself, to this old, improbable love.
For the first time in ages, Lydia started to hum as she cleared the dishes, and Geoffrey joined in low and off-key. Their laughter drifted through the flata soft, steady warmth against the cold outside. As she banked the fire for the night, Lydia realized: she had not betrayed her fathers memory, nor her childrens love. The truest betrayal would have been to live unloved, unchosen, and unseen.
She and Geoffrey settled into the armchairs, hand in hand. Isnt it funny, she murmured, how something as simple as sharing a meal can make you feel like youve come home?
Geoffrey squeezed her fingers gently. Perhaps thats all any of us ever needed.
With that, Lydia finally turned off the television, and as quiet wrapped around them, her heart brimmed with gratitudefor courage, for company, and for the chance, even now, to begin again.
