I never loved my husband.
Really? How many years were you married?
Lets see we got married in 71. You can do the maths.
But how is that possible, being together for so long?
We were both sat on a bench beside the graveyard path, two women whose only connection was tidying graves nearby. The day had brought us both here, and somehow, we started talking.
Another woman, dressed in a grey beret, glanced at the photograph on the headstone, Your husband? she asked, nodding at the stone.
I dabbed at the corners of my tartan scarf and nodded, My husband. Its been a year now I still cant get used to him being gone. Miss him more than words can say. I loved him deeply.
There was quiet before she let out a sigh, Well, I never loved my husband.
Curiosity got the better of me. But how many years did you spend together?
Oh, as I said, we married in 71. Long time, isnt it?
And all those years? How could you not love him?
She shrugged, I married him out of spite, honestly. I fancied another lad but he went off with my friend. I thought, Ill get in first and marry before the two of them! And then there was Rogersuch a soft, awkward chap. He trailed after me, clearly keen, so I just thought why not.
And?
I almost legged it from my own wedding. The whole village was having a knees-up and I was in tears, thinking about my youth being over. Looked at Roger and, honestly, I could have howled. Scrawny, a bit short, receding already with sticky-out ears. The suit looked like a cow in a saddle. He was just beaming at me, not taking his little blue eyes off I thought, Well, its my own doing, isnt it?
So what happened next?
Well, we moved into his parents house. Lovely people, couldnt do enough. I was big and strong then, thick plait down my back, eyes like damsons, full figure that would burst the seams of a dress. Everyone knew we were a mismatched couple. Mornings, my shoes would be cleanedhis mums doingand Id just huff and boss them about, sometimes even shouting at her. But really, I was drowning in self-pity. Who can love a daughter-in-law like that?
So Roger says to me, Shall we go up north and earn a bit? To distance from his parents. I just thought, as long as it meant going somewhere, anywhere. My head was full of nonsense.
At the time, the government was always on about sending young people up to work on the railway. Roger managed to get us on a team. We left for Newcastle first, then on to the wilds of Cumbria. They put the women in one carriage, men in another. Roger had no foodthe bag was with me, but you couldnt get from carriage to carriage in those days.
I didnt care much. Fell in with a right crowd, a proper laughsharing everything. Gave away all the cakes his mum packed for the trip. When he finally got a chance to speak to me at the station, he just asked if there was any food left. I felt a pang of guilt. Told him there was nothingthough it hurt me. He saw that, so tried to make light of it, said everyone was sharing in his carriage, too. Looked cheerful, but I knew he was lying. Hed never have joined in. He was just trying to put me at ease. Soon as he was gone again, I forgot all about him.
When we arrived, they put us in this barrack hotelthirty-five women and girls in one room, men separate. Temporary, they said. They promised the married couples their own rooms, but I couldnt have cared less. I dodged Roger as best as I could, made myself look busy, like I was always running off somewhere. The other women even told me off for it: He is your husband, after all. He used to stand outside the barracks hoping to see me, rain or shine, but I never gave him the time of day.
Eventually, I decided Id leave him. No childrenGod didnt give us any, though it had been a couple of years, and there was no love. Once or twice I stayed with him out of pity in his side of the building.
Then along came Gordon. Tall, dark, a shock of wavy hair. Life was rough but lively out therelots of work but good pay, Czech beer, oranges and sausage like Id never tasted back home, concerts, dances just for us.
The girls wanted Gordon but he only had eyes for me. We fell madly in lovereal passion.
Roger tried to plead and reason with me, but I was swept away in it all. Im divorcing you, I told him. By then wed got our own room, thin walls but our own. Still, I didnt bother sleeping with Roger anymore.
Even so, wherever I was with Gordon, I felt as if Roger was somewhere nearby. But I didnt care
The woman in her black scarf listened, enraptured, How did Roger stand for that?
He just did. Because he loved me. Then Gordon ran off with Katie, the bookkeeper. Didnt care about me anymore. When I told him I was pregnant, he dumped me and started shaming me in publicsaid Id clung to him because my husband was pathetic. Word got back to Roger, of course. By then, all that love had drained the sense from him! He fought Gordon behind the stationI didnt even know. Someone told me Roger had been taken to hospital.
I was furious with him, driving over there, but when I saw him black and blue, leg in a cast. I asked, Why did you do it? He just said, For you I felt sorry for myself, sitting there. They sent pregnant women home from the siteyou werent wanted then. Which meant Id be back in the village, everyone would ask whose child it wasit clearly wouldnt be Rogers. I wasnt even sure myself, to be honest. Couldve been either.
I visited Roger in hospital, brought him what he needed. Not out of love, just responsibility. The day he got on crutches, I visited again. We stood by the window; he looked old and sunken in his hospital pyjamas. He said, Dont divorce me, lets move away from here, the baby will be mine. And I, instead of being grateful, just asked, Why do you want this? He said, Because I love you. And I just said, Do as you like, and walked away, though I felt a flutter insideat least I wouldnt have to go home; itd be easier with him.
We moved to Shropshire then. Roger was so quiet, but at work they noticed him straight away with his mechanical engineering college degree. Made him foreman for some big hydraulic system, travelling all over. Every time he came home, hed bring food, gifts, never kept the best stuff for himself.
Got a wife, hed boast. Shes expecting. He was proud. I just lowered my eyes. We got a council flatthey made me a bookkeeper.
When the baby arrived, I knew right away he was Gordons. Dark hair, not Rogers. Roger never said a word, just watched the boy, smiling, nearly cried when he brought us home from the hospital.
Matthew was a difficult child from the offloud, sickly, restless. Roger was worn thin from the worry; even so, not a cross word. A year later, our daughter arrivedMary, named for his mother. That, at least, pleased his mum a little. But towards Roger, I felt neither love nor hate. With two small children close in age, theres no time for feelingsjust hoped hed help out. And he did. He cleaned, tidied up, made sure I could get some sleep.
Once, he offered to soak the laundry, nearly snatched the basin away. I remember thinking, What would the blokes at work say? Their chief, washing womens underwear! He just said, Waters freezing. Why should you do it and fall ill? Let them talk. It drove me mad then, his fussing, his constant lovetoo much sometimes, it grated on me.
As Matthew grew into a teenager, he was already getting in trouble with the police. Through that, I met Steve, the officer in chargedecent man, unmarried, got on with Matthew far better than his father did. Roger was too soft, couldnt discipline him, and Matthew just ignored him. Id turn to the belt sometimeshard not to when someone keeps nicking cigarettes. Roger would grab it off me.
Then Roger was sent for training in London. By now we had a good flat in Nottingham. He said, Say the word and Ill stay. He could sense things were wrong.
I told him, Go. He left, full of sadness. Steve pushedsaid, Leave your husband, you dont love him. And I
She flicked leaves from the bench and fell silent.
And did you? I asked, quietly.
She looked at me, her brow all furrowedclearly old memories weighed on her.
I kept thinking. I got a letter from Roger. I still have it, no one knows. He wrote that he realised hed ruined my life because I never loved him, only tolerated. He said, if I told him not to come back, hed never return. Promised half his salary for the kids, let me keep all the rest, wished me happiness. Not a trace of bitterness in it. He kept all the pain to himself, left me with a chance to be happy.
A gust shook the birch treesleaves tumbled onto the table, day still gentle and golden, a blue sky above. The woman in the black scarf dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief.
Why are you crying? I asked.
Oh sometimes lifes just so much, all you can do is cry at the memory. Go ondid you leave him for the policeman?
I didnt sleep for weeks. Matthew was out of control. I didnt know what I wanted. I fiddled with that letter day and night. There was an older woman at the factory, a foreman. She became a friend. Said to me one day, Lydia, youre a fool! Men like Roger are rare as gold dustyou treat them right.
One morning, I suddenly went cold, thinking, What am I doing? The mans lived his whole life for me
I remembered everythinghow he chased after me, how he always helped. Once, I ended up in hospitalgynaecological op, it went badly. Doctors whispers, thought I was done for. When they let me onto a ward, there was Roger waiting. The quietest man on earth, but he kicked up such a fuss for megot the staff running about, smoothed my hand, hired a nurse with his own pocket, got all the medicines.
If it hadnt been for him then
And once, by mistake, we took someone elses parcel from the post. A helicopter flew supplies in to the village, parcels dumped in the snow, and we picked up the wrong one. When we got home and realised, Roger took it all the way through a blizzard to the next village. I tried to stop himhe wouldnt be budged. People are waiting, you know, he said. He got frostbite on his cheeks, was ill for days.
And I realisedI didnt want anyone except him.
But a letter? After all these years, how could I write what I felt? Id spent so many years showing him he didnt matter. Could I possibly tell him?
In the end, I thought, he must believe Id gone for good, that I loved someone else.
It was autumn, just like todaysoft, warm. I got the children sorted, asked for leave, and went to Euston to catch a train to London. I can still remember how slow that train was, desperate to see him again. I could picture his face, so familiar, so comforting. I loved every bit of him, his bald patch, his ears, his bellyeverything.
They told me where the college was, but they wouldnt let me in. So I waited on the steps, searching every face. When Roger came out with his group, I almost didnt recognise himso self-assured, in a smart cap, short coat, files under his arm. I was frozen to the spot, suddenly weak from love for my own husband. His mates didnt understand why I called out. He stared when he heard me, stopped, couldnt believe his eyes. We just stood there, watching each other while the leaves drifted down.
We both bolted at the same time, his paperwork flung onto the path, arms around each other, no words could come out. All his course mates started laughingsaid, Now thats love! Married for ages, and still like newlyweds meeting for the first time.
The woman in blacks handkerchief was soaking through. She blew her nose.
So, you spent your lives together in love after that?
Till the end?
She nodded towards the grave. Is your husband buried here?
No Thats our Matthewour son. Gone before forty, poor lad. Got into trouble, ended up in prisona hard life in the end.
And your husband?
Oh, Rogers still alivethank God! He brought me here, then went off to run errands. We help our daughter these days. She half-smiled and looked around. There he is now, come to fetch me. Weve been talking ageswould you like a lift somewhere?
No, Ill pay my respects a bit longer, thanks.
Roger waddled upa stout, kindly-looking man in a black jacket and leather cap, round face and gentle eyes. He greeted us with a grin. Had enough, love? You look worn out. I brushed dust from his shoulder and insisted on carrying away the rubbish myself, fretting for his bad back.
We walked together, arm in arm, down the golden avenue between graves. At the turn, I looked back and waved, and Roger waved too.
As the autumn leaves rained down, I looked at the photo on Matthews grave and thought: Happiness isnt something that simply existsyou have to make room for it in your heart. All it ever really is, in the end, is to love and be loved.
