ALL SORTS OF PEOPLE
Olivers wife was always a bit of a mystery. Stunning, yesreal English-rose blonde with piercing dark eyes, a striking figure, tall and graceful. And in bed? Simply electric. In the early days, there was so much passion you hardly had time to think. Then came the pregnancy. So, naturally, they tied the knot, did things properly.
Soon their son was born: the spitting image of his mum, fair hair and nearly black eyes. Life, after that, was very ordinarynappies, prams, those precious first steps and first words. Anna seemed perfectly normal too, cooing over their child just like any other young mum.
But everything changed as their son neared his teens. Anna suddenly developed a passion for photography. Always snapping away, she even took some classes at the community centre. The camera became her constant companion.
What more could you want? Oliver would grumble. Youre a solicitor, just stick to the job.
Solicitor, not solicitor, Anna would gently correct his grammar.
Yes, yes, solicitor. Pay a bit more attention to your family instead of gawping at who-knows-what!
He couldn’t even say what annoyed him so much. She never neglected the house. Meals were cooked, everything spotless, and she handled their son’s schoolwork. Oliver would get home, flop on the sofa in front of the tellyjust like a proper husband. But it niggled at him, this sense that Anna was always slipping away to some world he had no right to enter. She was there, yetnot really. She never sat to watch TV with him, never discussed what was on, never really joined in. Shed serve the dinner, then disappear again.
Are you my wife or not? hed fume when he found her hunched over the laptop again.
Anna would just go quiet, close herself off.
She had a taste for travel too, always off to some far-flung corner of the globe with her camera and a rucksack, as soon as she had holiday from work. Oliver never got it.
Just come with me to Colin and Marys. Lovely countryside, new shed, some cracking homebrew. High time we got an allotment of our own, anyway.
Anna refused, but she always invited him along on her trips. He tried itonce. Hated it. Couldnt understand a word, the food was all wrong, everyone felt like strangers. As for the scenerynever appealed to him.
So Anna started travelling alone. Finally, she even handed in her notice at work.
What about your pension? Oliver spluttered. And whats gotten into your head? Some grand photographer now? Do you know how much money it takes to break into that line of work?
Anna said nothing. Then one day she quietly confided, Im having my first exhibition. My own.
Everybodys got an exhibition these days, Oliver scoffed. Not exactly news.
But he went to the opening. Didnt understand a thing. Facesnone of them prettygnarled hands, seagulls against grey skies. All strange, just like Anna. Hed laughed about it to her face that day. Yet, out of the blue, she bought Oliver a car. For the family, she said. Its yours. Use it. Shed earned the money from her photos, hustling for commissions.
Thats when things got truly unsettling. Where was all this cash coming from? How in the world does someone buy a car from just taking the odd snap? Must be other blokes. Surely needed a man to be earning that way. Maybe she was running aroundif she wasnt already, she would be.
He even tried to teach her a lessononly once, a mild slap. But Anna just grabbed a kitchen knife and sliced at himnot deeply, just a couple of stitches, but still. Thankfully, didnt have the presence of mind to really stab. She apologised afterwards. From then on, he never tried it again.
She loved cats. Was always rescuing strays, bringing them home, nursing them back to health and finding them a place. They always had at least two themselvesaffectionate and sweet enough, but not people. How could someone love a cat more than her husband?
Once, one of Annas cats diedshe couldnt save it. It died in her arms, right there at the surgery. Anna was inconsolablecrying, drinking brandy, blaming herself. Days passed like that. Oliver got sick of it, snapped, Why not light a candle for the house spiders while youre at it?
She stared at him silently, and he left the house, slamming the door. Let her grieve however she liked.
Their friends sympathised, Annas mates always seemed to take Olivers side. Shes gotten above herself, they said, lost the plot really. So, Oliver found comfort elsewherewith Rachel, Annas childhood friend and their next-door neighbour, as luck would have it. Rachel was much easierworked as a shop assistant, wasnt bothered about art, ever-ready for a laugh, a drink, some fun in bed. She drank a bit too much, but no matterhe wasnt marrying her.
He waited for Anna to notice, to flip out, to have a proper old rowthrow a fit of jealousy, smash a mug or two. Then he could fire back, Well, where exactly do you keep vanishing off to? Then maybe theyd forgive each other, maybe patch things up and get back to normal. Rachel could always be let go.
But Anna said nothing. She just looked at him with dark, hurt eyes, and withdrew even more. She moved into the spare room. Things in the bedroom fell apart.
Their son grew up, finished university, and, just like his mother, was strangethose dark eyes, that fair hair.
So, when can I expect some grandchildren? Oliver would ask.
Dennis would laugh, I want to do something meaningful, Dad, find real love first. Then youll get grandkidsmaybe. He felt like a stranger, hard to read. Anna and Dennis, on the other hand, always understood each other, barely even needed words. Oliver felt like an outsiderthose dark eyes haunted himimpenetrable. So hed go back to Rachel again and again.
Until, eventually, Anna found out. One of the neighbours let slip. Oliver hadnt even tried to hide it. One night, he came home to find Anna quietly sitting at the kitchen table, smoking. She whispered, almost too softly to hear, Get out. Leave this house.
Those dark eyes, bruised with sorrow, were terrifying.
He left. Moved in with Rachel. He thought Anna would beg him to come back. After a week, she finally messaged: We need to talk. Oliver was over the moon, scrubbed up and doused himself in the nicest aftershave.
At the door, Anna simply said, Tomorrow, were filing for divorce.
Everything after that was a blurdivorce papers, endless forms, and he even gave up his share of the flat. It was hers from her parents after all.
So, what will you do now? Live out your days as a divorcée? he sneered a little as they left the solicitors office, biting his tongue before he added, Whos going to want you now?
Anna smiled thenthe first genuine, wide smile shed given him in years. Im off to London. Someones offered me a serious project there.
At least dont sell the flat, he said, not really knowing why. Where will you come back to?
I wont be coming back, Anna replied in that calm, steady voicethe one hed always ignored. The truth is, Ive loved someone else for a long time. Hes a photographer too, from London. I find life so fascinating with him. But I never acted because I was marriedit felt wrong. And, in reality, we werent divorcing for that reason. The truth is, we are simply different people. Is that really a reason for divorce? Or is it not?
It isnt, Oliver admitted.
Well, weve divorced all the same, Anna laughed warmly. At first I was furious about you and Rachel, but then I realisedits all worked out for the best. Ill be happy, and you will too. Marry her, Oliver. I hope you both have a good life.
And she walked away.
Im not getting married, he called after her.
But Anna was too far gone to hear.
After that, she disappeared from his life. Only once a year did he get a short message on WhatsApp: Happy birthday! Health and happiness to you. Thank you for our son.
Sometimes, you only realise much later that even under one roof, two people can live miles apart. If we cant accept each others differences, happiness will always slip awayno matter how long you wait for things to change.
