DO I REMEMBER? HOW COULD I EVER FORGET! “Polly, there’s something I need to tell you… Listen, do you remember my daughter from before we were married, Anastasia?” My husband was speaking in riddles again, and I felt uneasy. “Hmm… Do I remember? How could I ever forget! But what’s going on?” I sat down, bracing myself for bad news. “Well, I hardly know how to say it… Anastasia is begging me to take in her daughter—our granddaughter,” my husband stammered. “Why on earth should we, Alexander? And what about Anastasia’s husband? Has he run off?” Now I was curious, properly intrigued. “You see, Anastasia hasn’t got long left. No husband. Her mother married an American years back—lives in the States now. They fell out, haven’t spoken in years. And there’s no one else. That’s why she’s asking,” Alexander confessed, eyes averted. “So? What’s your plan? What will you do?” I already knew my answer. “I wanted to ask you first, Polly. Whatever you decide, I’ll go along with,” he finally looked at me, pleadingly. “How convenient. You sowed your wild oats, and now you expect me to take responsibility for someone else’s child. Is that it?” My husband’s spinelessness infuriated me. “Polly, we’re a family. We should decide together,” Alexander countered. “Oh, really? And when you were cheating, did you consult me? I’m your wife, after all!” Tears welled up, and I ran off to the next room. …Back at school, I was seeing my classmate, Victor, but when new lad Alex walked into our classroom, I forgot everyone else. Poor Victor soon got the heave-ho. Alex started walking me home, showering me with flowers from the park and kisses on the cheek. A week later, he lured me to bed—I never uttered a word of protest. I fell hopelessly in love with Alex and never stopped. We finished school and Alex was called up for National Service in another city. We wrote for a year, and then Alex came home on leave. I was beside myself with excitement, hanging on his every glance. He promised, “Polly, I’ll be back in a year and we’ll get married! I already think of you as my wife.” I felt a wave of utter joy—it was always like this: one sweet look from Alex, and I melted like chocolate by the fire. When he left again, I counted the days. But after six months, I received a letter: Alex wanted to break up, he’d found “real love” in the garrison, and wouldn’t be coming back. Meanwhile, I was pregnant—with his child. So much for my dreams. As Gran always said: “Don’t trust a buckwheat flower in bloom, trust what’s tucked away in the pantry.” …Time passed, and my son Ivan was born. Oddly enough, Victor, my old boyfriend, offered to help. Out of desperation, I accepted, and yes, we became close. There was no sign of Alex. Then one day he returned. Victor opened the door, and there stood Alex. “May I come in?” Alex asked, surprised. “Suppose so, since you’re here,” Victor replied reluctantly. Young Ivan, sensing the tension, started wailing and clung to Victor. “Victor, can you take Ivan out for a walk?” I was flustered. They left. “Your husband?” Alex asked, suspicious. “Why do you care? What brings you here?” I was angry and clueless about his motives. “I missed you. Seems you’ve landed on your feet, Polly. You’ve got a proper family. Didn’t wait for me, I see. Well, I’ll be off. Sorry to intrude.” Alex turned to go. “Wait, Alex. Why are you here, exactly? Just to torment me? Victor’s been helping me raise your two-year-old son,” I blurted, love for him still alive. “I’ve come back for you, Polly. Will you have me?” he pleaded. “Come on in, we’ll have dinner,” I said, heart pounding—joy flooding back. He hadn’t forgotten me after all. Why resist? So poor Victor got sent packing again. Ivan needed his true father, not a stepdad. Victor later married a lovely woman with two children of her own. …Years flew by. Alex—Alexander to everyone else, but always Shurik to me—never saw Ivan as his own. He assumed Ivan was Victor’s. His heart wasn’t in it. Frankly, my husband was always one for chasing after other women. He would fall for them, then drop them just as quickly—often with my friends, too. I sobbed and wailed, but never stopped loving, never stopped protecting what I called family. In a way, having all the love meant I could live blissfully unaware. I didn’t have to lie, invent excuses, or make up stories. I just loved him. He was my sunshine. Yes, sometimes I wanted to leave, but at night, regret would wrap around me. Where else would I go? Who else could I ever find? Besides, Shurik wouldn’t stand a chance without me—I was his lover, wife, and mother rolled into one. …Shurik lost his mother at fourteen—she died in her sleep—and perhaps that’s why he always sought comfort in the arms of others. I forgave him everything, pitied him. Once, a fight was so bad I threw him out. He left for his relatives’ place. A month passed, I’d forgotten the row, but still he didn’t return. I had to humble myself and visit his aunt. She was surprised to see me: “Polly, why would you want Alex back? He told us you’d divorced. He’s got a new girlfriend now.” That’s when, thanks to his aunt, I found the girl’s address and turned up unannounced. “Good afternoon! Could I see Alex, please?” I was doing my best to be polite. She smirked and slammed the door in my face. …A year later, Alex came home. By now, the girl had had a daughter: Anastasia. I’ve always blamed myself for letting my husband walk out back then. Maybe if I hadn’t, that girl wouldn’t have scooped him up. Since then, I’ve coddled and cherished him, giving unconditional love. We never spoke of Anastasia—his other daughter—never dared mention it, as though the whole family might collapse if we did. Best to keep some dangerous things bottled up. So Shurik had a child with another woman. It happens. Predatory women shouldn’t throw themselves at married men! Life went on. Over the years, Shurik settled down, became tamer, more agreeable. The flings faded away—he started spending more time at home in front of the telly. Our son married young, and gave us three grandchildren. Then, out of the blue… Anastasia, Shurik’s lovechild, turned up years later—asking us to take her daughter in. Makes you think. How do we explain the sudden arrival of a strange little girl to Ivan? He knows nothing of his dad’s younger adventures. …Of course, we became legal guardians to five-year-old Alina. Anastasia passed away at thirty, her earthly journey done. Graves get overgrown, but life carries on. Shurik offered to talk to Ivan, man to man. Listening to his father’s confessions, Ivan simply said, “What’s in the past is buried, Dad. I’m not here to judge you. And the girl—she’s family, we should take her in.” We breathed a sigh of relief—what a compassionate son we’d raised. …Alina is sixteen now. She adores ‘Grandad Sasha’, tells him all her secrets. She calls me ‘Nan’ and says she’s the spitting image of me when I was young. I just smile and nod…

DO I REMEMBER? HOW COULD I FORGET!

Polly, listen, I need to tell you something My husband was circling around a point, as usual, and when he did that, I knew trouble was brewing.

Remember my daughter out of wedlockLaura? he said, almost in a whisper.

Remember? How could I forget! I said, sitting down, steeling myself. Whats happened?

He fidgeted, wouldnt meet my eye. Its just Laura is begging us to take in her daughterso, my granddaughter, really…

And why should we, Alex? Wheres Lauras bloke gone then? Eaten too many apples and left home? I was getting curious now, Ill admit.

Well, he said, Laura hasnt got much time left. Never really had a fella. Her mum married an American years ago, moved out west. They had a huge falling out and havent spoken since. Thats it. Theres no one else to look after little Emily. So shes asking us. He looked utterly defeated.

So? I asked coolly. What are you going to do?

He looked up finally, relief and hope in his eyes. Thats why Im asking you, Pol. Whatever you say, thats what well do.

How convenient! You mess around in your youth, and Im supposed to take responsibility for someone elses child, is that it? I couldnt hide how cross his indecisiveness made me.

Polly, were a family. We need to decide together, he said, a bit more forceful than usual.

Oh sure, family now, is it? But when you were gallivanting about, did it cross your mind to consult me? I am your wife, after all! My voice wobbled and before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face. I rushed into the next room, needing space.

Back in school, I dated a lad called Martin. Then one day, Alex showed up in our classnew kid, cocky grin, quick wit, and I admit, I lost all interest in Martin. Alex made sure I noticed him; walked me home, nicked flowers off the neighbours garden for me, kissed me on the cheek in the chilly London evenings. Barely a week later, he whisked me off to bed. I didnt even think to say no. I was madly in love, the kind that makes you poetic and daft in equal measure.

After school, Alex got called up for military service in Liverpool. I sobbed my heart out at the platform, convinced Id never survive the year apart. We wrote, letters flying back and forth, keeping hope alive. The next summer he turned up on the doorstep, all grins. I was so giddy I basically rolled out a red carpet. He said, Polly, when Im back for good, well get married! Anyway, youre my wife already, arent you?

It melted me. Thats always how its beenone smouldering look from Alex and Id just dissolve, like butter on toast under the grill. He left again, but I waited, certain hed come home to me.

Six months later, I get a letter. Hes fallen in love with someone else, another lass on base. He says hes not coming back to Londonbest for both of us, he reckons.

By this time, my belly was already showinga baby on the way, Alexs baby. Some fiancé, right? As my gran used to say, Dont trust a field of blooming wheat, trust whats in your larder.

I had my little boy, Jack. To give him his due, Martin helped out. I was so lost, I really had no choice but to accept. Martin and I grew close againin all the ways you might guess. I thought Alex was gone for good.

Out of the blue, Alex reappeared. Martin opened the door and there he was, Alex, looking awkward and out of place.

Mind if I come in? he asked.

Martin, a bit begrudgingly, said, Go on, then.

Sensing the tension, little Jack started wailing and clung onto Martin. Martin, why dont you take Jack for a stroll? I said, not sure whether I wanted to hug or throttle Alex.

Once theyd left, Alex eyed me up. Is he your husband?

Whats it to you? I snapped. Why are you here?

He said, I just missed you. Saw youve moved on, got yourself a family. Guess you didnt wait for me, then. Sorry for intruding. He turned to go.

I called after him. Hang on, Alex. Is that why you came? To upset me? Martins helping me because you werent here. Hes the only dad Jacks ever had.

I want to come back, Pol, Alex said quietly. Will you take me?

Come in. We were just about to have lunch. My heart did somersaults. Of course Id take him back. Hed come, after all. That meant something.

Martin was out in the cold again, and while I did feel a bit guilty, Jack deserved his real dad.

Martin moved on, married a lovely widow with two boys of her own, and found his own happiness.

A few years flew by. Alex never did quite bond with Jack, always treating him as someone elses child. He was convinced Jack wasnt his. It broke my heart to see it. Truth be told, Alex was hopeless with womenforever falling for one after another, quick to fall, even quicker to move on. He cheated as often as he changed his socks: my friends, their friends, anyone, really. I cried until there were no tears left, but I stayed. I loved him; our family was everything.

I think it was easier for me. When youre in love, you can fool yourself blind. I didnt have to lie or invent storiesI simply loved him. To me, he was everything. At times, I wanted to leave. But at night, Id talk myself out of it. Who else could there be for me? And where would Alex be without me anyway? I was his lover, his wife, his mother, all wrapped up together.

Alex lost his mum at fourteen. She died in her sleep, quietly, and maybe thats why hes always looking for some lost bit of warmth and comfort. I forgave him everything, over and over. Once, we had a real falling out, bad enough that I booted him out. He packed up and went to his relatives.

A month passed, I couldnt even remember what the row was about, but he didnt come home. I ended up going to his aunts. She looked surprised to see me. Polly, why are you here? Alex said you two split for good, and now hes with someone else. I dug around, found the girls address and paid her a visit.

Hello! Is Alex in? I called through the door, ever the polite one.

She just sneered and slammed it in my face.

Alex came back a year later, and the girl had had a daughterLaura. I always blamed myself for that, for throwing him out in the first place. Maybe if I hadnt, that girl never would have swooped in and had his child. That guilt made me more attentive, more tolerant. We never really talked about Laura, as if even saying her name would bring our family crashing down. We ignored the elephant in the room, let sleeping dogs lie, as they say.

Honestly, who hasnt made mistakes? It happens. These women shouldnt go after other peoples husbands, but what can you do.

Years went by. Alexs wandering ways faded. He became quieter, gentler, more content with being at home watching telly. Our Jack married young and made us proud grandparents of three.

And suddenly, after all this time, Laura reappearedasking us to take in her own little girl.

Makes you stop and think, doesnt it? How do you explain to Jack that a random girl is now family, when he knows nothing about his fathers youthful escapades?

Of course, we took on guardianship of five-year-old Emily. Laura passed away at just thirty. All wounds eventually heal, and life rolls on.

Alex had a proper, heart-to-heart with Jack about it all. After hearing the full story, Jack said, Mum, Dad, whats done is done. Im no judge. Shes family. Of course well take her.

We sighed in relief. Good lad, our Jackkind to the core.

Emilys sixteen now, absolutely adores Granddad Alex and tells me Im the spitting image of her when I was her age. I just nod and smile. What else can I do?