LIFE IN ORDER
Lydia, I forbid you to talk to your sister and her family! They have their life, we have ours. Have you called Daphne again? Complained about me? I warned you. Dont blame me if something happens, Bernard said, gripping my shoulder hard.
Whenever things turned sour like that, I would quietly retreat to the kitchen. Bitter tears pricked at my eyes. No, I never once complained about my life to my own sister. We only talked about familyour elderly parents, things that needed sorting. But it infuriated Bernard. He couldnt stand my sister, Daphne. Her home was full of peace and plentysomething I could never say of mine with Bernard.
When I married Bernard, there was not a happier girl in all of England. Bernard swept me up in a flurry of passion. I didn’t mind that he was a head shorter than me. Nor did I pay much attention to his mother, who turned up at the wedding barely able to stand straight. Later, I learned my mother-in-law had long given herself to the bottle.
Blinded by affection, I chose not to see the faults. But after a year of marriage, I seriously began to doubt the happiness Id imagined. Bernard drank heavily, often crawling home drunker than a lord. Then came a string of affairs. I worked as a nurse at the local hospital, earning barely enough pounds and shillings to scrape by. Bernard, meanwhile, spent his days and nights with his drinking mates.
He had no intention of providing for me. If, in the early days, Id dreamed of children, by now Id settled for doting on a pedigree cat instead. The desire for a child with a drunken husband had vanished, even though (foolishly enough) I still loved Bernard.
Youre a silly thing, Lydia! Look about you, men buzz like bees, gazing at you, and yet you, blinders on, are fixed on your little fellow! What do you see in him? Forever turning up battered and blue from his blows. Do you really think no one notices the bruises under your makeup? Leave him before his anger does you in, you daft woman, my friend and fellow nurse warned.
Yes, Bernards anger flared without warning, and he was quick to use his fists. Once he beat me so badly, I couldnt show up for my shift. Worse still, he locked me in the flat and took the key with him.
After that, I lived in fear of him. My heart would race, my spirit shrink, at the sound of his key in the lock. It seemed he blamed mefor failing to give him a child, for being a poor wife, for… everything. So, I never resisted when he lashed out or hurled abuse, or when he mocked me. I never could explain why I still loved him.
His mother, who looked every inch the hag, once told me:
Lydia, do as your husband says, love him with your whole heart, forget your family, and avoid those friendsnothing goodll come of them.
And so, I did. I abandoned friendship, stayed away from my loved ones, yielded myself entirely to Bernards control.
There was something intoxicating about the way he apologised, toobegging on his knees, kissing my feet, pleading for forgiveness. Our reconciliations were sweet and slow, almost magical. Bernard would toss armfuls of fragrant rose petals across our bed. In those moments, I would soar, rising to the heavens where I found my own little paradise. Of course, I knew hed plucked those roses from the garden of his drinking friends wife. She carefully tended her roses, while her husband sneaked them out for a song, trading them among the drunks. Wives would melt at the sight of the gifted blooms and quickly forgive their wayward husbands.
In truth, I would likely have lived out my days meekly as Bernards shadow. Each time my fragile paradise shattered, Id try to piece it all back. But fateor perhaps luckintervened.
Let Bernard go, Ive a son by him. Youre barren, a dead blossom, declared a stranger, brazenly demanding I surrender my husband for her childs sake.
I dont believe you! Go, and good riddance! I snapped at the unwelcome visitor.
Bernard denied it for all he was worth.
Swear to me thats not your son! I demanded, sure he could never disown his own blood.
Bernards silence spoke volumes. I understood everything.
Lydia, Ive never seen you happy. Is something troubling you? It was the hospitals chief physician, Mr. Graham Lewis. I thought he scarcely noticed my existence, but that day he took an interest.
All is well, I stammered awkwardly.
Thats good. When a person has life in order, life is grand, Graham Lewis said, his words sinking deep.
He had once been married, raising a daughter, or so the rumour went. Left his wife for her unfaithfulness. Now, Mr. Lewis lived alone at forty-two. Nothing much to look ata bit balding, small in stature, always behind his glasses. But when he approached, something in me stirred. He wore a scentperhaps some aftershavethat set my head spinning.
It was impossible to resist the quiet magnetism of Graham Lewis. I found myself fleeing his presence, terrified by the temptation. But after hearing his simple wordsThats good, when alls in orderI was unsettled. My own life was in utter disarray. Time rushes on; you can’t beg it to pause while you sort yourself out.
At last, I left Bernard and returned to my parents. Mother was shocked.
Lydia, whats happened? Did your husband throw you out?
No, Mum. Ill explain it all later, I lied, too ashamed to describe my married life.
Later, Bernards mother called, raving and cursing, laying blame and hexes at my door. But I was already free, breathing deeply, with shoulders straightened anew. My thanks went silently to Graham Lewis.
Bernard raged, threatened, watched my every step. But he never knew that he no longer had any power over me.
Bernard, dont waste your time on me nowdevote yourself to your son. He needs you. Ive turned our page. Goodbye, I told him with a calm Id never known.
At last, I rejoined my sister Daphne and my parents. I became myself again, no longer a puppet in someone elses play.
My friend immediately saw the change in me: Lydia, youre transformed! Youre glowing, light as springa real bride!
And then Graham Lewis asked me to marry him.
Lydia, lets wed. I promise youll never regret it. Only one thing: call me Graham, save the Mister for work.
But do you love me, Graham? I said, taken aback by his proposal.
Ah, forgive mewomen need words. Very well, I love you. Still, I put my faith in deeds, not declarations, Graham replied, pressing a kiss to my hand.
I accept, Graham. I believe I can come to love you, I said, my heart overflowing with hope.
Ten years have flown by since.
Graham has shown me daily, through actions, what true love is. He never showered me with empty words or kneeled in dramatic apologies like Bernard. Instead, he cared, protected, cherished. His generosity and manly surprises were beyond words. We never did have children; maybe I really was a dead blossom. But Graham never reproached me, never uttered a single hurtful word.
Lydia, perhaps it was simply meant to be the two of us. And I wouldnt have it any other way, Graham would comfort me whenever my heart ached for the child Id never have.
Grahams daughter gave us a granddaughter, little Alexia, who became the child of our hearts.
As for Bernard, he drank himself into an early grave before reaching fifty. Bernards mother, should we meet now and then at the market, still burns me with her stare, but her spite vanishes into thin air, and I can only pity her.
And so, Graham and I live on. All is well. Life, at last, is wonderful.
