Urgently Seeking a Husband
Mum, you really must find yourself a new husband, and you need to do it soon! Really soon!
Eleanor almost dropped her mug of tea. Some of it sloshed onto the tablecloth, leaving a brownish stain. She set the mug down, cleared her throat, and fixed her daughter with an intent stare.
Explain yourself, Abigail, Eleanor said, her voice level and careful. Whats brought all this on?
Abigail shifted from foot to foot, her eyes lowering to the intricate pattern on the rug. She felt awkward, but she was determined this was the right thing to say.
You see today I told Dad that youve met someone, she said in a small voice, then let out a heavy sigh. He just wouldnt stop asking about it! Always asking if youve found anyone yet. Every time, Ive just said no and then he goes on for ages about what a terrible mistake you made leaving him. He reckons you dont know anything about life, letting a wonderful man slip through your fingers.
She glanced up at her mother, her gaze flickering with a mix of frustration, confusion, and even a trace of anger toward her father.
And and he keeps on saying that youll realise you were wrong and come crawling back. That youll never find anyone better. So I lost it and told him youd met someone.
Eleanor ran a hand through her hair, and for a moment, she could hear her ex-husbands familiar toneso smug, always spinning everything into a speech about how right he was.
I can only imagine the sort of grand adjectives he used, she said with a touch of wryness. Even now he just cant accept that I left himso perfect, so blameless. Sometimes I think Simon only makes such a fuss about your weekend visits for the sake of an audience. Hes not interested in seeing youhe just wants to monitor the gossip, feed his own ego.
Abigail flopped onto the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her in a practiced move. Hugging a cushion to her chest, she idly traced patterns in the fabric as she tried to marshal her thoughts.
Yeah, I think so too, she said, looking off into the distance. Its always an hour and a half of listening to how brilliant he is. He never wants to know how I am, never even asks about how schools going or if I need anything
She spoke of it as if describing the usual routine: wake up, have breakfast, school, homework. For Abigail, it had long since become ordinaryso much so that it hardly registered as a feeling anymore.
She let her head fall back against the sofa and stared up at the ceiling, replaying that latest conversation with her father. It had started like always, with some new achievementthis time a detailed account of how hed outmatched his business rivals. Then came the future plans, the woes at work, a litany of how everyone underestimates his worth. An hour and a half, Abigail had noted the time. Shed be sure to mention it to her mum.
When she tried to talk about her maths competition at school, her father barely nodded before launching straight back into himself. Well done, of course, but you know, at your age I was already And then another parade of anecdotes about his own glory days.
Abigail shrugged slightly, pushing the memory aside. Shed grown used to it. As far back as she could recall, her father was absorbed entirely by his own narrative. Everyone elseher mother, herselfthey hovered there, important in theory but never the main act.
Any conversation was always bent back to his tribulations and triumphs. If her mother complained of exhaustion, hed immediately start telling how much harder things were for him at work. If Abigail voiced a worry about a school friend, hed change the subject to his own school yearsmuch brighter, naturally. Other peoples troubles passed right by him, never truly registering.
She could never fathom how her mum had managed fifteen years beside a man so obsessed with his own reflection. Maybe shed only stuck it out for Abigails sake, not wanting her to grow up without a father. As a child, Abigail had honestly hoped hed change, that one day hed care enough to ask about them, curious about their lives. But the years trudged on and nothing shifted. Only after the divorce had Abigail been jolted into a new, quieter world. No one hogging the attention, no one treating their worries as trivial.
So why, exactly, do you think I should rush to find a new partner? Eleanors voice was sharper than intended. Youve said it now, all right, but is it really so awful?
You dont understandwhen Dad heard, he completely lost it! Abigail grimaced, clutching the cushion tighter. First he went white, then bright red, then started shouting. So loud the neighbour came to check! To be honest, I was a bit frightened.
She paused, remembering that wild scene: her fathers voice, unfamiliar and brittle, trembling fists, darting eyes. He looked as if he were about to burst.
He demanded to know who the man was, wanted every last detail, Abigail continued, picking at the cushion seam. I refused. I said you didnt want him to know I wouldnt be surprised if he starts calling you, trying to press you for answers.
Eleanor turned slowly and leaned on the window ledge, studying her daughter. An interesting day in store She could just imagine Simons spectacular meltdownthanks, darling girl.
Sighing, Eleanor sank onto the sofa next to Abigail, pulling her into a brief, tight hug. What was done was done. There was no way to take those words back.
Why did you tell him that, Abby? she asked quietly, rocking her daughter. We were managing well, werent we? Now the drama and the complaints will begin again. It makes me want to switch my phone off altogether.
Abigail wriggled out of the embrace and sat up straight, meeting her mothers gaze with a seriousness that startled Eleanor.
Because youre amazing! Abigail said, confidence ringing in her voice. Youre clever, you look great, youve loads of friends, and men are always interested in you! You think I dont notice? Dad talks rubbish about you all the timeIve had enough!
Eleanor stroked her daughters hair, fingers sifting gently through the soft blond strands. In those eyes she saw affection and a flicker of bewilderment.
I understand, sweetheart, truly, she murmured. If Im honest, I thought you might not want me seeing anyone new its barely six months since the divorce.
She hesitated. Somewhere inside, she worried that Abigail would see it as a betrayal, or a weak attempt to replace her father. Eleanor searched her daughters face for the faintest shadow of disapproval.
Dont be ridiculous! Abigail huffed, the clarity of her tone forcing a reluctant smile from Eleanor. All I want is for you to be happy!
Abigail folded her arms, grinning up at her mum. In that moment, she looked older than her yearswise, and fiercely loyal to what she believed was right.
As Eleanor continued to look at her daughter, all the anxiety slowly loosened its grip. Abigail spoke so surely, it was as though fear and doubt at last had begun to ebb away. Perhaps, Eleanor thought, she really did spend too much time mired in the past and dreading the future.
You clever thing, Eleanor whispered, hugging her tightly again. Thank you for looking after your mum.
Abigail nestled closer, content. Right then, the two of them felt warmer, saferlike whatever storms waited outside, their little family could weather them together.
***************************
Eleanor sat at her desk, straining to focus on a quarterly report. The rows of numbers blurred together, while a dull, persistent ache hammered away behind her temples. Shed already massaged them several times today, purely by force of habit.
After some hesitation, Eleanor finally leaned over and asked her colleague to pop to the chemist, just a couple of minutes walk from the office. When the painkillers arrived, she swallowed them with water from the office jug and stared at the documents again. Useless. Her head felt heavy, every noisea clattering keyboard, the low hum of air conditioning, distant laughteramplified the pain.
Just then, the security guard poked his head round the door. He looked polite, but tense.
Miss Carter, theres someone to see you, he said, holding the door a crack. Your ex-husbands insisting. Shall I have him shown out, or do you want to go down?
Eleanor froze, a fresh wave of fatigue and irritation rising inside her. She drew a slow, steadying breath.
Ill be down in a moment, thanks. Sorry about this, she replied, standing up.
Mentally, she swore. Could this day get any worse? The work was relentless, her headache brutaland now Simon appeared out of nowhere. Why hadnt he phoned? What was he thinking, marching into her workplace? Did he plan to make a scene in full view of her colleagues?
She moved slowly, mindful not to inflame her headache with brisk movements. The corridor buzzed with activity: people huddled by the photocopier, others laughed over tea. As Eleanor passed by, she felt the weight of tension gathering between her shoulder blades.
Emerging into the reception hall, she spotted Simon at once. He strode up and down, flinging his arms, arguing with the guards at the desk, voice sporadically climbing above the hubbub. The security team tried to keep their cool but looked ready to intervene if he got any more riled.
What do you want, Simon? Eleanor barked, skipping any attempt at polite greeting. Her voice was steady, but her nerves were frayed. Whats this circus supposed to behoping for a run-in with the police, are you? Because I can arrange that.
Simon jerked around at the sound of her voice. His face was blotchy and flushed, eyes blazing with a strange mix of anger and excitement. He stormed over, jabbing an accusing finger at her.
You! he all but shouted. Abigail told me everything! Only six months since the divorce and youve already found yourself another man?
His voice was tangled with disbelief, bitterness, and a telltale jealousy. For a moment, he must have thought Abigail was winding him up. Now, with Eleanor staring back, calm as ever, he understood it wasnt a joke.
Eleanor arched an eyebrow, letting her expression slip into bored amusement.
Am I supposed to be eternally faithful to you, Simon? Even after the divorce? Honestly, you ask a lotespecially since you never showed much interest in fidelity yourself.
Simon faltered, left momentarily speechless. His still-extended hand sank to his side. Confusion flashed across his facehe clearly hadnt expected such cool composure.
Around them, the normal rhythm of the office continued: employees passing by, a delivery man signing for a parcel, someone checking the time. Yet here, in the centre of it all, stood a little island of bitterness, old wounds, and new realitiesrealities Simon clearly wasnt ready to face.
You you just he sputtered, but Eleanor cut him off.
Lets not do this here, Simon, her tone softened but held firm. If youve something to say, say it calmly. Not like this, not in front of everyone.
A scene? Ill show you a scene!
He all but bellowed, voice reverberating through the foyer. Red patches bloomed on his face, the veins in his neck standing out, his fists clenching and unclenching with frustrated energy. He started to pace, as if torn between confrontation and retreat.
I wont have my daughter living under the same roof as some stranger! he shouted, oblivious to curious glances from staff. Ill take Abigail! Youll never see her againnot ever! You
His sharp, almost hysterical words hung in the air, but Eleanor simply raised an eyebrow, a look of mild indifference on her lips. Take Abigail? Shed like to see him try. Any judge would see sense.
Finished now? What a performancehonestly, Simon. The circus should sign you up.
Whats happening here? came a new voicea deep, steady one from the entrance.
Simon stopped mid-rant, spinning to face the newcomer. In the doorway stood a tall man in a perfectly cut navy suit. He radiated a quiet confidence and, as the guards straightened up, it was clear he was a person of consequence here.
Nothing to do with you! Simon snapped, turning the full force of his glare on the stranger, whose expression remained relaxed. This is a private matter!
The man didnt answer at once. He approached at a measured pace and stopped a short distance away, watching them both with a slight, amused smile that only seemed to antagonise Simon further.
A private matters when you speak quietly and alone, the man said at last. When you start shouting in public and disrupting the peace, Im afraid that becomes everyones concern.
Eleanor observed in silence, feeling the tension in the room grow thick as fog. She hadnt expected George Huxley, the managing director, to appearbut his intervention broke Simons tide of threats and outrage, just when things threatened to boil over.
Simon turned on George, gearing up for another outburst, but George didnt so much as flinch. His gaze was calm, almost impassive, the sort of composure honed from years of dealing with difficult people.
And who are you, exactly? Simon spat out, clinging to the shreds of his dignity. Meddling in other peoples business!
George stepped closer, stopping beside Eleanor and, with deliberate ease, slipped an arm around her waist. It was a gesture both subtle and pronounced, cutting short any further speculation.
Who am I? George replied in a cool, matter-of-fact tone, though there was steel in his voice. Im the man who makes Eleanor happy. And I dont take kindly to your shouting at her. Try anything like that again, and Ill make sure youve got more trouble than you could possibly handle. And if you ever think to use Abigail as some sort of bargaining chip well, I think you understand me.
Simon stood frozen, the angry flush draining from his cheeks, replaced by a waxy paleness. His eyes darted between George and Eleanor as if only now realising hed lost whatever control he imagined hed had. For a moment, he looked utterly lost.
For several seconds, he seemed torn between lashing out and simply fleeing. But Georges calm, certain manner left him nowhere to go.
At last, Simon muttered something indistinct, turned on his heel, and stalked out of the foyer, his posture stiff with wounded pride. Just before the door swung shut, he called back over his shoulder:
Dont count on a penny from me!
Never wanted it, Eleanor called after him, her light, mocking tone edged with relief. And at least Abigail wont have to visit on weekends now.
Suddenly Eleanor realised Georges warm, steady hand still rested at her waist. The gesture, so ordinary yet so intimate, left her faintly flustered. She glanced down, a rosy glow creeping up her cheeks, and gently eased away.
Thank you, George, she said softly, her voice full of genuine gratitude. Youve no idea how much that helped.
Georges eyes warmed as he smiled.
Shall we discuss it over lunch? he suggested, extending his hand.
Eleanor hesitated a moment, doubts flickeringwas it too soon? Did it look impulsive? But she dismissed the worries. George had been respectful and calm. She did want to talkand to know more about him.
Of course, she replied, laying her hand in his.
His grip was quietly reassuringfirm, never overbearing. Gradually, the stress that had haunted her since Simon appeared ebbed away, replaced by a gentle excitement and the odd flutter of hope.
Later, over a cosy lunch in a small bistro nearby, the mood softened. Warm light danced over polished cutlery, the smell of fresh bread in the air, lending an almost confidential air to the table.
In time, Eleanor learnt that George had carried feelings for her for some time. He spoke plainly, with no grand embellishmentsjust a quiet, honest affection that had waited and grown.
I held back for a long while, he confessed, stirring his tea. You always looked so focused, so reserved I wanted to give you space, after what youd been through.
She listened without interruption. There was no trace of arrogance in his wordsonly integrity and genuine regard for her boundaries.
And when I saw him shouting at you like that” Georges brow furrowed. Well, I couldnt just stand by any longer.
Eleanor couldnt help but smile. So thats how things really were! Shed noticed his glances before, had even liked him in returnbut the difference in their positions had always put her off making the first move.
*******************
Three months after that dramatic scene in the office, Eleanor and George were married. The wedding was elegant and tasteful, with every detail arranged just the way Eleanor had always pictured. George made sure each one of her wishes was granted.
Abigail was genuinely happy for her mother. On the wedding morning, she helped Eleanor get ready, making sure every last detail was in place. When the couple exchanged rings, Abigail beamed and hugged them both tightly.
Im so happy for you! she whispered, sincere delight in her eyes.
Still, Abigail made clear she couldnt yet call George Dad.
I like you, George, she said during one of their first evenings together as a new family. And Im glad Mums not alone now. But my dad will always be my dad.
George nodded, not the least bit offended.
Thats exactly as it should be, Abi, he said gently. What matters is that were all together now.
Simon received a wedding invitation, but it was mostly out of courtesy. Eleanor hesitated, then sent an envelope anywaylet him see that her life had gone on, no thanks to him. There was no note, just the date, time, and address.
Of course, Simon didnt show. The very idea of attending only stirred bitterness in him. Instead, he took to ringing their old friends.
The first call he made was the day after the invitation arrived. His tone was overly measured, but the strain seethed underneath.
Can you believe she invited me to her wedding? he blurted, never waiting for greetings. After everything that happened!
A mate from Simons uni days politely inquired what was so outrageous about it. Simon huffed and spluttered:
Its humiliating, thats what! How could she?
For days the same scene played outSimon dialling one number after another, repeating his tale of woe and injury, seeking validation, hoping someone would echo his outrage. But none did. Instead, they offered bland platitudes, or silence.
Frustrated, Simons complaints shifted.
Shes rushing thingsonly six months! Who finds real love that quickly? Shes just running away from reality. Trying to forget me, you see?
At other times, he changed tack:
She never even gave me a chance! If wed only talked I might have He never finished the thoughtto win her back, to change, to start again.
Sometimes, his protests grew almost incoherent:
I did so much for her, and what does she do? Gone without so much as a thank you. Took Abigail too!
Even these tantrums about ingratitude fell flatfriends only shrugged uneasily.
What does she owe you, Simon? You were marriedshe doesnt owe you for that.
He would fall silent, realising that no one saw things his way. No one condemned Eleanor, no one called her reckless. In fact, most seemed to think she had every right to start overand it infuriated him.
In the end, drained by the fruitless rants, Simon gave up. He sat in his flat, staring at the old photos and small relics left behinda hair grip, a faded albumrecognising now that life was moving on. He just couldnt find a place in the new order.
As Simon faded from their days, Eleanor, George and Abigail found a fresh rhythmpeaceful, steady, built from simple pleasures: shared dinners, weekend walks, good-natured arguments over which film to watch And somehow, day by day, their little family grew stronger.
