Just before New Years, my wife gave me a shock so strong it nearly floored me. After twenty years togetherwhat Id thought a happy lifea lovely grown-up daughter married off and already with a grandson, I thought I had everything a man could want. What more do you need? I should have been content, just enjoying what I had.
But apparently, things werent as rosy as Id believed. Id worked all those years as a lorry driver, away from home more than I liked, just to make sure my family had everything they needed. I sent them on holidays, bought a car, renovated our flat, organised a beautiful wedding for our daughter. I rang home several times a day from the road, always thinking of them, always missing them. But for all that, while I was away, my wife had been having an affair behind my back for years. I never had a clue. Shed feed me linesI miss you, Im lonely, I cry myself to sleepall while she was carrying on like nothing was wrong.
It all fell apart the day I came back early from a jobjust like in those old jokes. I didnt argue, didnt shout. I quietly packed what I could, grabbed my papers, got in the car and drove off. Once Id got out of the city, I just stopped the car and sat there with my hands shaking, unable to process it all.
Everything Id done was for the family. And yet, it had all been for nothing. I wasnt a perfect man; I know what some blokes get up to on the road. But Id never strayed. I loved my wife and treasured what we had. The betrayal hit me like a bucket of cold water.
Calls poured intwenty missed by the time I pulled over. My wife, my daughter. I switched the phone off. I couldnt bear to hear any excuses. All those memories flashed before my eyesthe registry office, bringing our baby daughter home, her first day at school, the smiles and the homecomings. How did I miss that my wife had stopped loving me?
My late mother-in-law had warned my wife so many timesMoney isnt happiness, love your husband, these long absences will ruin you. She saw what was coming. Locals had hinted too, but I never listened, always trusted her completely.
I didnt really know where I was going. Id not been back to my old home village in over a decade; the place might not even exist anymore. With nowhere else to turn, I decided to head there. Anything to get away from my old life and what used to be my family.
I stopped by a roadside shop and loaded up with supplies, half-crazed, tossing anything and everything into the basket as if I was heading to the end of the earth. Turned out, I wasnt wrong. The further I drove, the fewer signs of life there werevillages that used to stand proud now dark, windows boarded up, just the odd light flickering here and there as snow began falling and the wind howled. But I remembered every bend and laneId always loved that village.
My mother never agreed to move to the city with me. She spent her last years alone, the only home shed ever known too dear to leave. I felt guilty about it, wanting to give her more, but shed always said, Here everything is familiar; in your cities, Id waste away. She died there, and after the funeral, I locked up the house and hadnt been back since.
As the blizzard thickened, I finally reached our old streetthe house nearly invisible under drifting snow, windows still boarded from the day I shut it for the last time. I found the spare key in the shed, like always, and slid the clumsy padlock from the door. The house was exactly as Id left it, only colder and dustier, and empty without my mother.
First, I fetched some logsthere was always a stash by the porchand got the fire burning in the old range. Soon warmth crept into the parlour. I took water from the well out back (amazing it still worked), boiled a kettle, and rolled up my sleeves for a deep clean. Old habits never left meId grown up helping Mum, never afraid of a bit of housework.
Within an hour or so, the place felt less like a crypt, and I laid out some groceriessliced some ham and cheddar, buttered some bread, opened a tin, and made a fry-up. When the old clock struck eleven, I poured myself a whisky.
Well, I said to the empty room, heres to the New Year. I suppose its time for a new life. How, I dont know yet. But as Mum used to say, Things look different in the morning.
I was just about to raise the glass when there was a tremendous banging at the window. I nearly dropped the drink.
Someone was out thereit seemed I wasnt the only soul left in the village after all. I opened the door, and in tumbled a woman, her cheeks red with cold, shawl covered in snow. Her eyes were scared and tear-streaked.
I dont know your name, she said breathlessly, Ive just moved in here three months back. My little boys terribly ill, and theres no doctoronly a handful of houses occupied. I think its his appendix. Please, can you help us?
Without thinking, I grabbed my coat and hat. Lets not waste time. Well need the shovel, thoughroads are snowed under, took me forever to get here. I picked up her boy, burning with fever, and we hurried for the car. We were lucky; we made it to the main road, but still had to dig our way in places to get to the nearest town.
After an anxious ninety-minute drive, we roused up the on-call surgeon at the hospital. Shed been rightit was his appendix. They rushed the lad into surgery. It was two in the morning by the time he was in recovery.
So, Happy New Year, I said wryly.
Sorry to have ruined it for you, she replied, wiping tears.
Dont be daft. All that matters is hell be alright.
We sat through the endless wait in the corridor. Finally, the surgeon emerged: Good thing you got here when you did. Hes out of surgery now, stable.
Ruththat was her nameand I waited until morning, when she was finally allowed to see her son, Jamie. I drove back to the cottage, lit the fire, had something to eat and drifted into a fitful sleep. By early afternoon, I thought Id see how they were.
Jamie was awake, a little grumpy about spending New Years in hospital, and more upset that Father Christmas hadnt found him.
He always leaves my present under the tree. I bet he couldnt get in this yeardoors locked. Im not little any more. I know he doesnt come down chimneys. Jamies eyes were big and sad.
Thats not it, I reassured him. I saw some big footprints near your house last nightmustve been Father Christmas. And since it snowed after midnight, it cant have been anyone else. Ill bet your present is just hidden somewhere waiting to be found when you get home.
Jamies face lit up, and he looked at Ruth for confirmation. She nodded silently, wiping her cheek.
Ruth told me, later, that she hadnt managed a present this year anywaymoney was tight. Shed had to leave her husband after another drunken rage turned violent; hed lashed out at her then raised a hand to Jamie, and they escaped one night with nothing but a suitcase. The cottage by the main road had belonged to her late auntthe only refuge she had. Hed have sold it and drunk the money if he knew, she said quietly.
On the way back, I stopped at the toyshop and bought a bright, shiny toy fire engine, along with some treats. Ruth resisted at firstThats far too generous, you hardly know us!but I insisted. Let me do something good for someone in the New Year.
That week, I kept myself busy in the villageclearing snow, chopping logs for Ruth, checking in on Jamie at the hospital. It turned out, I enjoyed it. When Jamie finally came home, he was beside himself searching the house, until he found the fire engine hidden in the airing cupboard.
He didnt forget me! Jamie shouted, jubilant. Hes real! Mum, you couldnt afford thislook how new it is!
Giving gifts like thatit felt wonderful.
Ruth invited me to dinner to say thanks. As we sat by the fire, both a bit shy and awkward, Jamie fell asleep, clutching his new toy.
Thank you, Ruth, I said. I cant remember the last time I felt warmth like this.
Wheres your family? she asked.
There was one. Not anymore. Can we talk about that another night?
Time sped by. I told Ruth Id need to leave next morningmy lorry job couldnt wait forever.
Will you come back? she looked hopeful but didnt want to ask.
Dont know yet, I hedged. Lifes tangled up right now. But you and JamieI wont forget you.
I was away for three weeks, all around the country, but I couldnt get Ruth and Jamie out of my mind. When my run finished, I nipped into the city to see my daughter, spoil my grandson a bit, and let my soon-to-be-ex know divorce papers were on their way.
With nowhere I wanted to be, I soon found myself heading back to the village. When I pulled up, Jamie was out front as if hed been waiting all along.
Youve been gone ages, he said, shaking my hand like a grown man. Mums missed you. She keeps watching out the window for your car. Shell be cross if you dont go inshe wants to talk.
Inside, Ruth said, I didnt think youd really come back. Whats here, after all?
I needed time to thinkafter twenty years with my wife, you dont move on overnight. But I never stopped thinking about you. Would it be alright… if I stayed?
Her eyes filled with tears, and she reached up to hug me.
We ended up moving in together. Over the summer, we fixed up Mums housesorted the water, re-roofed the old shed, grew veggies, kept hens and a goat. Ruth rented out her aunts cottage to city-folk wanting a country break. Jamie started calling me Dad before long.
Life, as it turns out, does what it wants. You never know whats next, what surprises lie ahead. As the old folks say around here, living life isnt just a walk in the park. It throws you curveballsbut sometimes, out of disaster, a door opens to something entirely new. Thats the lesson Ive learned: sometimes, when it feels like everythings lost, lifes just pointing you towards a better beginning.
