Let Sleeping Dogs Lie Taisha often reflects on her life now that she’s crossed the threshold of fifty. She can’t call her family life happy, and it’s all because of her husband, George. They married for love as young sweethearts, yet somewhere along the way George changed, and Taisha missed the moment. They lived in a cottage in a quiet English village, under the roof of George’s mother, Anne. Taisha worked hard to keep the peace, respecting Anne, who treated her with warmth. Taisha’s own mother lived in the next village with her younger son, bedridden by illness. “Anne, how do you get on with your daughter-in-law Taisha?” nosy villagers asked at the well, in the shop, or just walking down the lane. “I’ve nothing bad to say about Taisha; she’s respectful, keeps the house well, and helps me with everything,” Anne always replied. “Oh, we’ll believe that when we see it! When has a mother-in-law ever praised her daughter-in-law?” scoffed the women. “That’s your concern,” Anne said, walking on. Taisha bore a daughter, Violet, and everyone rejoiced. “Taisha, Violet looks like me,” Anne searched for her features in the baby, and Taisha just laughed, not caring whom her daughter resembled. When Violet turned three, Taisha had a son. Again, the happy bustle. George worked, Taisha was at home with the children, and Anne helped a great deal. They lived quietly, peacefully—even better than most. George wasn’t a drinker like other husbands. Some wives would search for their men behind the village pub, dragging them home drunken and cursing the whole world. When Taisha was expecting her third child, she found out George was having an affair. In a small village, nothing stays hidden; soon everyone was talking about George and Tanya, the widowed neighbour. The neighbour, Valerie, wasn’t above coming over. “Taisha, you’re carrying George’s third child and he’s running off with other women,” she said bluntly. “Valerie, surely not? I’ve noticed nothing,” the wife said, surprised. “Exactly, how could you notice—two children, pregnant with a third, the house and the farm. He’s living for himself. Everyone knows now, and Tanya doesn’t even bother hiding it.” Taisha was upset. Anne knew as well but kept quiet, not wanting Taisha to find out. She often scolded her wayward George. “Mum, you didn’t see anything, did you? Women gossip; that’s what they do,” he retorted. One day, Valerie rushed in: “Taisha, George just sneaked into Tanya’s yard, I saw him myself from the shop. Are you going to let him leave you alone with three children? Go give that shameless woman a piece of your mind. You’re pregnant—George wouldn’t dare lay a finger on you.” Taisha knew she didn’t have the courage for a fight with Tanya—Tanya’s reputation for defending herself was well-known. Still she went: “I’ll look George in the eye and get the truth. He’ll just deny it and call it gossip,” she told Anne, who tried to stop her. “It’s late autumn, Taisha. Be sensible,” Anne pleaded. It was getting dark. Taisha knocked on Tanya’s window, waiting, but Tanya addressed her through the closed door, refusing to let her in and telling her to go home. Taisha left, knowing her efforts were wasted. George came home after midnight, drunk, though he rarely drank. “Where were you? At Tanya’s, drinking together—I know! I came over and she wouldn’t open the door,” Taisha confronted him. “What are you imagining?” George protested. “I was drinking with Ben down the pub. Got carried away with the time.” Taisha didn’t believe him but said nothing. What could she do? As the saying goes, “innocent until proven otherwise.” She spent that sleepless night pondering: “Where would I go with two children and a third on the way? Mum’s ill, my brother’s family is crowded—how could I fit in their house?” Her own mother had always said, when she complained: “Grin and bear it, daughter. You married and have children—bear it. Do you think it was easy for me living with your father? He drank and chased us, remember how we used to hide with the neighbours? God sorted it in His own way and called him home. But I endured it. Your George doesn’t drink much and he keeps his hands to himself. Endurance has always been a woman’s lot.” Taisha didn’t always agree, but she understood there was nowhere to go. Even Anne soothed her: “Daughter, you’ve got children, almost three now. We’ll manage together with him.” The third, little Annie, was born weak and prone to illness—perhaps from Taisha’s stress during pregnancy. But in time, Annie grew stronger, thanks to Anne’s tender care. “Taisha, have you heard? Tanya took in Michael after his wife threw him out,” Valerie came saying—the village’s fastest news-bearer. “No matter, let her. At least my George won’t go there now,” thought Taisha to herself. But a month later, Valerie showed up again: “Michael’s gone back to his wife. Tanya’s on the hunt again. Keep your George close by, you know what she’s like.” Life with George settled for a while. Anne was pleased. But once a man’s restless, he won’t stay put. On her way back from the market, Anne met an old friend, Annie: “Anne, what’s wrong with your George? Taisha’s a gem, a good mum and wife. You praise her yourself—what more does he want?” “Aye, Annie, is George at it again?” “He is, running after Vera, the divorced one at the village café…” Anne told off her son privately. But secrets don’t stay secret for long. Taisha learned of George’s latest affections, again thanks to Valerie. Tears and pleas didn’t help—George continued his affairs but never left the family, enjoying the comfort of home while chasing other women for fun. Anne now scolded him openly, but a grown man seldom listens to a tired mother. He’d yell: “Mum, I work for the family, bring in money, and you two accuse me, listening to village gossip.” Years passed. The children grew up. Violet graduated college and settled with her husband nearby, the son finished university and married a local girl. Young Annie finished school and made plans for further study. George finally calmed down—nowadays it’s work and home, even lying on the couch more often as his health declined. He gave up drinking altogether. “Taisha, my heart’s been playing up again,” he would moan. “And my knees ache—maybe it’s my joints. Should I see the doctor?” Taisha no longer pitied him; she’d cried enough tears and endured too much disappointment. “He’s stayed home only because his health’s failed; let his former flings nurse him now,” she thought. Anne passed away and was buried next to her husband. George and Taisha’s home was quiet, but sometimes children and grandchildren visited. The two were happy then. George would complain to the kids about his health, even blaming Taisha for not looking after him. Violet brought medicines, fussing over her father, telling her mum: “Mum, don’t nag Dad—he’s poorly,” and it hurt Taisha that Violet took his side. “Daughter, he brought it on himself, lived too wild a youth, now wants sympathy. I’m not made of stone—I lost my own health worrying about him,” she tried to explain. The son comforted his father when visiting, talking mostly to him—as men do. The children never seemed to understand their mother, no matter how she explained that she tolerated George’s infidelity for their sake, never wanting to deprive them of a father. The pain and loneliness. But their answer remained: “Mum, don’t dredge up the past. Don’t make things hard for Dad,” Violet said, her brother agreeing. “It’s all behind us now, Mum,” her son said, patting her shoulder. Taisha felt a little hurt that the children sided with George, yet she understood. Life simply is as it is. Thank you for reading, subscribing, and for your support. Wishing you all the best in life!

Dont Dig Up the Past

I often find myself reflecting on my life now that Ive crossed the threshold of fifty. If Im being honest, I cant call my marriage with George a happy one, and its largely his doing. We married young, swept up by love. Back then, we were genuinely fond of each other, and when things began to change, I didnt notice until much later.

We lived in a little cottage in the countryside, sharing the roof with Georges mother, Margaret. I always tried to maintain peace and treated Margaret with respect; she returned the favour with warmth and kindness. My own mother lived in the next village with my younger brother, often unwell and frail.

Local gossip tended to circle around Margaret at the village shop or the post office, never missing a chance to poke into our business.

Margaret, how do you get along with your daughter-in-law, Tessa? theyd ask, half-mocking.

I dont have a bad word to say about Tessa, Margaret would reply. Shes respectful, knows her way around the house, keeps everything running, and helps in every way.

Oh, well believe it when we see it! When has a mother-in-law ever praised her daughter-in-law? came the retort.

Thats up to you, Margaret would say, and carry on her way.

I had our first daughter, Alice, and everyone in the family rejoiced.

Tessa, doesnt Alice look just like me? Margaret searched for her own features in the child, while I just chuckled, not really fussed about who our daughter resembled.

When Alice turned three, I had a son, Samuel, and we found ourselves caught up in joyful excitement again. George worked, I cared for the children at home, and Margaret was always willing to lend a hand. We lived simply, perhaps even better than most; it was calm and steady, and my husband didnt drink like so many others. Some wives would be out searching for their husbands at the pub, dragging them home in the dead of night, cursing their lot all the while.

I was already expecting our third child when I learned from whispered rumours that George had strayed. The village hides nothing; news travels fast. Word was going around about George and that widow, Claire. Our neighbour, Valerie, came by herself just to inform me.

Tessa, youre carrying Georges third child, but he she used a harsh word, cant keep his trousers on, chasing after other women.

Valerie, really? I exclaimed, bewildered. I havent noticed anything odd.

Of course you havent, she replied. Youve your hands full with two kids, the house, Margaret, everything! Hes living it up while everyone else knows about his shenanigans. Claire doesnt even bother to hide it.

I was crushed. Margaret knew, too, but kept quiet, not wanting me to suffer. Shed tell her wayward son off, hoping to knock some sense into him, but George brushed it off easily.

Mum, come on, you werent actually there, were you? Women gossip, thats just their way.

One evening, Valerie rushed over again.

Tessa, Ive just seen George go into Claires! Saw it myself as I came from the shop. Do you want to end up alone with three kids? Go and pull that shameless womans hair out! Youre pregnantGeorge wouldnt dare lay a finger on you, she prattled on.

But I couldnt bring myself to pick a fight with Claire, knowing her fiery temperament. Her husband had drowned, drunk, and shed grown tough through years of rows. After thinking it over, I decided to confront George instead.

Ill go, look him in the eye, get the truth. Hell never admit it, says its all womens idle talk, I told Margaret, who tried to dissuade me.

Tessa, youre expecting, please look after yourself

It was late autumn, nearly dark. I knocked at Claires window, waiting for her to come out. She called through the door instead.

What do you want? Why are you banging on my window?

Open the door, let me in. I know my George is here; people told me, I said loudly.

Oh sure, Ill run right along and let you in. Go homedont make a fool of yourself, she laughed from within.

After standing there for a moment, I realised she wouldnt open up. I went home, crestfallen. George staggered in after midnight, drunk. It didnt happen often, but sometimes he did indulge. I was waiting.

Where were you? Youre always at Claires, drinking together. I came round and she wouldnt open the door. You know its true.

Youre imagining things, George snapped back. I wasnt there; I was with John, having a drink. We lost track of time.

I didnt believe him, but kept quiet, too drained for a row and never one for drama. What could I do? As the saying goes, innocent until proven guilty. I lay awake all night wondering,

How would I manage with two kids and another on the way? Mums sick, my brothers got his own familythree kidsin a house bursting at the seams. Where would we go?

My mother would always tell me, whenever I complained of Georges straying,

Bear it, love. You married, had children, so endure. Do you think it was ever easy for me with your father? He drank and drove us outremember when we hid at the neighbours’? God called him home eventually, but I got through it. At least George doesnt drink much or raise a hand to you. Women have always had to bear things.

Though I didnt always agree with her, I knew I wouldnt be able to leave George. Margaret would comfort me, urging me not to make a rash decision.

Where would you go with the children, with another soon arriving? Well manage together if we have to.

Our third child, Lily, was born frail and often unwell, probably as a result of all my stress during pregnancy. After a while, she grew calmer, with Margaret lavishing her with attention.

Not long after, Valerie came running again, eager to spread the latest village news.

Claires let Michael move in, the one who got thrown out by his wife.

Well, let her, thats her business, I replied, relieved. At least George wouldnt be going there anymore.

But a month later, Valerie returned,

Michaels left Claire and gone back to his wife. Now shell be after another man. You keep George close; you never know, he might go back to her, she warned.

Life calmed down for a time; Margaret was pleased. But if a man has an itch, eventually hell stray. On her way back from the shop, Margaret was stopped by her old friend, Annabel.

Margaret, whats wrong with your George? Tessas a lovely wife and mother. Havent you always said so? What more does he want?

What have you heard now, Annabel? Is George running after other women again?

He is, and how! Hes living in luxury with you lotfed, washed, looked afteryet hes sneaking off to Veronica, the divorcée who works at the village café

Margaret never said anything to me, but told George off in secret. Still, gossip doesnt hide for long. Once again, I learned of my husbands antics from Valerie. Tears and pleas made no difference. George continued on his wayward pathnot willing to leave his family, knowing he could never abandon us, but never faithful either. He enjoyed the arrangement: wife, children, mother, a settled home, and a second life on the side.

Margaret increasingly scolded her son, desperate to talk sense into him. But grown men seldom listen to their mothers. George shouted at her to mind her own business.

Mum, I do my bit for this family, bring home the pay, and you two accuse me! You believe every bit of tittle-tattle.

And so the years rolled by. The children grew up. Alice married in the county after college and stayed there with her husband. Samuel finished university in the city and married a local girl. Lily was finishing school and planning to continue her studies in town.

George eventually quieted down, sticking to work and home. He took to lying on the sofa, complaining of aches and pains. He gave up drinking altogether, not that he over-indulged before.

Tess, my hearts not right, feels odd in my back, hed grumble. And these knees! Must be the joints. Maybe I should see the doctor in town.

I didnt feel much pity for him. My heart had long hardened from all the tears and disappointments I endured for years while waiting for him to change.

Hes only at home now because his health keeps him in, Id think to myself. Let him go and complain to his old flameslet them pamper him now.

Margaret had since passed, buried beside her husband. The house became eerily quiet for George and me. Occasionally, the children and grandchildren visit, and we both light up at the sight. But George takes the opportunity to moan about his health and even blames me for not taking care of him. Alice brings medicine and fusses over him, then says to me,

Mum, dont be hard on Dad, hes not well. I find it hurtful that she takes his side.

Love, hes no saint; he was wild in his youth but wants sympathy now. Im not made of steel either, lost my health worrying about him, Id try to explain.

Samuel tries to cheer up his father when he visits, sticking more to Georgewell, men do.

Its as if the children dont understand my side, no matter how I tell them their father was unfaithful and I put up with it for their sake, to keep them with a dad around. How hard and lonely it was! But all I heard was,

Mum, let sleeping dogs lie. Dont torment Dad, Alice would say, with Samuel agreeing.

Mum, whats done is done, hed say, gently patting my shoulder.

It stings a little that my children side with George, but I get it, and I dont hold it against them. Lifes just like that.

The lesson Ive drawn from all this is not to let old pains poison the present. The past will always linger, but the future is lived one day at a time.