I managed to get my son to divorce, and now I regret it
My daughter-in-law brought my granddaughter again for the weekend, moaned my neighbour, Margaret, as we met on the staircase. And I simply cant get the poor child to eat properly! Mummy says princesses dont eat very much! she tells me, after two spoonfuls. Shes practically see-through! All green and glowing with hunger.
Margaret had disliked her son Thomass wifeAnnabelfrom the very start, simply because Annabel was seven years older than Thomas, who was barely out of school when they met.
Hed never even known a woman before her! Margaret fumed. He fell under her spell, of course! She dazzled him with her worldly ways and that was that!
Annabel was strikingalways smartly dressed and taking immaculate care of herself, busy climbing the career ladder. I saw nothing mysterious about Thomass infatuation with her; men fall for whats in front of their eyes, and Annabel gave him plenty to look at.
Her strict eating habits extended to their daughter: portioned plates, no overindulgence, always mindful of health and appearance.
Just a few months after they started seeing each other, Annabel was expecting. Maybe it was a deliberate move to spite her future mother-in-law, who did her best to sabotage their relationship, or maybe it just happenedeither way, it hardly mattered. Thomas was adamant he would marry Annabel, though hed just turned eighteen and she was twenty-five.
Thomas started at a technical college straight after school, juggling a part-time job. They set up their nest away from both families, renting a flat at first, then buying a single room in a shared house.
They were deliriously happy, but Margaret wasnt letting up. If it wasnt Annabels odd meals, it was an un-ironed shirt, or the wrong childrens outfit. According to Margaret, her daughter-in-law was a walking flaw. Margarets relentless sniping wore her out.
Annabel responded by withdrawing. She took on all the fetching and carrying: after nursery it was ballet, then chess club, always dashing from work to the next thing. There were her own appointments toogym, manicures, haircuts. Home became somewhere she passed through, not lived in.
Thomas arrived home to an empty flat: daughter at clubs, wife off with her or ticking off her endless to-do list.
One evening the neighbour, Susana 38-year-old widow with two teenagersknocked on Thomass door. The tap in their shared kitchen had burst and she pleaded for his help before a mini Niagara swamped the downstairs neighbours.
Thomas hands quickly halted the flood and fixed the pipes, while Susan made tea and sausage butties as thanks. Annabel never fried sausages, barely made any home mealsshe was simply too busy. Susans kind offering was a rare treat, and Thomas was grateful.
From then on, Susan welcomed him to the kitchen whenever Annabel and their daughter were out. The evenings grew warm with pie and conversation. It was a slow, surreal drift; neither noticed how their friendship grew into something else entirely, both caught in a fog of comfort and gentle domesticity.
Inside the shared house, nothing was ever privatestories travelled quickly along the corridors. Soon, someone tipped off Annabel that her husband and the widow spent a little too much time sharing recipes.
There was a grand showdownechoing up the stairwellwith Annabel throwing Thomass things into the hallway, voice booming all the way to the attic. Midnight now, Thomas had nowhere to turn but Susans always-open door.
Their daughter was six by then. Thomas was twenty-five, Annabel thirty-two, Susan thirty-nine.
When Margaret heard Thomas had left, she rejoicedvictory at last! But when she found out he had gone not back to her, but straight into Susans homea woman not only a mother of two but fourteen years his seniorshe fell eerily silent.
It was bizarre. After years of hounding Annabel over her age, now there was nothing from Margaretonly quiet acceptance, or perhaps the hush of defeat.
The divorce was ages agosome fifteen years back, now. Thomas stayed with Susan. They never had children together, but lived peacefully, soul to soul. Despite the rift of years, Thomas is now forty, Susan fifty-four, and Margaret welcomes them both with tea and cake and not a single complaint. Harmony reigns: odd, dreamy, but deeply true. And to my eyes, Thomas is truly happy.
What do you thinkcan happiness flourish when shes the elder?
