Start packing your things, I ran into my first love, declared Edward. But an hour later, he was the one standing in the hallway with a suitcase.
Edward returned from his school reunion on a Sunday evening. Judith was finishing the washing up in their small kitchen.
Something about him was unusually brighta flush in his cheeks, a spark in his eye. He looked like someone who had just been promoted at work, or had won big on the lottery. Judith glanced over as she dried her hands on the tea towel, thinking, Well, he mustve had a good time.
Edward said nothing. He changed, and went straight to bed.
In the morning, he sat at the table with the solemn air of a man who has come to a life-altering decision. Like a scene from a filmhis hands folded, gaze serious. Judith set his coffee down and rummaged in the fridge, planning to finish off the leftover sausages. Thats when he spoke.
Judith. We need to talk.
Here we go, Judith thought. Those wordseveryone knows them. The prelude to everything that ever goes wrong in life.
I saw Harriet last night. Do you remember? My first love.
Judith remembered all right. Harriet surfaced in conversation every five years or so, usually when Edward was tipsy and a bit sentimental. We were so young. The usual tale.
We talked. For a long while. So, you should start packing, Judith.
She turned, sausages forgotten on the fridge shelf.
Sorry, what?
Weve decided to be together. Me and Harriet. You understand?
Judith stared at him for a moment.
The flats mine, anyway, Edward added, just in case, the way people say and besides. Youll need to find something else.
Judith returned the sausages to the fridge, shutting the door gently, mindful not to knock off the little Brighton Pier magnet.
Youve sorted everything, then? she asked.
Yes.
She nodded, and walked away.
Judith sat on the edge of their bed, eyes fixed on the wall. There hung a calendar with kittens, bought on a January trip to the market, only because they needed something and it was two quid. January and February had both gone, the kittens still hung there. A ginger one with a red ribbon stared back at Judith with what she imagined as philosophical empathy.
So, thats that, Judith mused.
Shed spent twenty years with the man now waiting for her to pack, sitting in the kitchen like it was just another day. Twenty years was no small thing.
The memories ran wild. Their first grotty rented flat in Croydon, where the taps leaked and the neighbour, Tim, shouted all night. The time Edwards building supplies venture went under, when he was grey with worry and she pretended not to notice him drinking on the balcony. The night she rushed him to A&E in agony, the doctor later saying, Another hour and it might have been too late. The school leavers party, where shed been teaching English, Edward arriving with flowers, bashful and so pleased with himself. All thatlived, shared, and suddenly none of it seemed to matter.
Judith got up, paced the room, stopped by the wardrobe.
On the top shelf, tucked away, were important documents.
Edward sat at the table, flicking through his phoneno doubt messaging Harriet, for a soft, triumphant smile kept crossing his lips. The sort worn by people who feel certain they’re about to get a standing ovation.
Judith returned and placed a folder on the kitchen table.
Packing your papers already? Edward asked, glancing over.
No. I want to show you something.
She opened the file.
Judith, can we not
Silence, Edward. This wont take long.
She found what she was after and set it before him.
Fifteen years ago, when Edward dreamt up his bout with entrepreneurship, a solicitor advised a prenuptial agreement. Edward didnt care much. Formality, Judith. Were family. Shed gone to the solicitor on her own, signed, and brought back a copy.
Edward had merely muttered fine and shoved it in a drawer. Judith had quietly moved it to the wardrobe.
She wasnt cunning, just careful.
That businesscheerful forecasts, big planshad collapsed in fourteen months, spectacularly, as such things tend to do when built on little more than hope.
The debts were sobering. The one time, Judith suggested selling the flat to clear it all. Edward refused. Ill sort it out. He did, eventuallytook him six years, not three months as hed boasted. Judith worked extra hours and never complained.
Edward read the document.
Judith poured herself some cold coffee and drank.
Wait, said Edward, voice now smaller, hesitant. This says.
Yes, Judith replied.
That the flat is yours, if we divorce.
Yes.
But
Edward studied the paper again, then let it fall.
Judith waited. Let him read. Let the truth sink in. There had been fifteen years to learn this, and now here it was, crisply typed.
And the loans? he asked.
Theyre yours. See clause four.
Edward fell silent. His phone screen flashed. Harriet, no doubt, wanting an update. He didnt reply.
Judith, he breathed.
Yes?
Did you keep this on purpose?
Judith considered. Answered honestly.
No. I just never throw things away.
It was true. She kept everythingreceipts, appliance manuals, letters from doctors. Careful, methodical. It was her nature.
Edward looked from the paper to the view beyond the window.
Judith gathered the folder and left the room, putting her mug in the sink.
Edward, she said from the door. One of us really should look for another place. Youre right.
She left. He sat for twenty minutes, maybe half an hour, Judith couldnt be sure. She kept busytidied books, moved the geranium, dusted the wardrobe. Busy hands, quieter mind.
Edward squinted in at the doorway.
Judith.
She turned. He was clutching the agreement, as if it could save or condemn him.
Please, lets talk, he said.
Lets, Judith said evenly.
This contract, it was a long time ago. We never thought
Thought what?
Edward stopped, unable to finish. That theyd split? That the contract might actually matter? That theyd been foolishly careless?
Its legal, Judith said. I checked five years ago.
When?
Five years back. Just in case.
He regarded her like realisingjust nowhow much hed overlooked.
Did you plan this?
She paused.
No. Im just organised.
It was true: she had rung the solicitor once about her mothers estate and threw in an enquiry about the prenup. Still valid, dont worry, hed said. Judith nodded and forgot it, until this very morning.
Edward shuffled back to the kitchen. Judith heard him moving about, then going still.
She peered in.
He was staring at the corner.
What are you doing? she asked.
Thinking.
About what?
No response.
Judith set the kettle on.
Edward. Did you ever think where youd go?
He just watched her, eyes blank.
I see, Judith said.
She realised hed pictured it all differently: solemn words, Judith weeping and dashing off to a friends; Edward left behind, Harriet arriving. Simple, predictable. The contract had never entered his imaginary script.
The kettle clicked. Judith made tea.
Im not leaving, she said calmly. I own this flat, and Im staying.
Edward sat in silence.
What about me?
Go to Harriet, Judith reminded him. Isnt that what you said? Youve chosen.
At that moment, Judith thought of Harriet with neither anger nor malice. She was just someone from Edwards half-dreamt world, conjured over prosecco and nostalgic chatter. Judith had no place thereshe was simply in the way.
So be it.
She Edward hesitated, She isnt sure. We never really discussed living arrangements. Shesnot ready.
Judith set down her cup.
Edward. Are you telling me to pack when you havent even sorted things with Harriet, or decided where youll go?
He was silent, guilt on his face.
Some men cling to big decisions; its the details that undo them.
Judith pulled out a brown travel bag and set it on the table.
There. Take what you need.
Judith
Edward. You made your choice. Ive heard it. Put it into action, please.
He stared at the bag. Something broke in him, finally.
He went to pack.
She remained in the kitchen, hearing drawers open, wardrobes creak, the faint cling of his razor.
Twenty years together, and all his belongings fit one overnight bag.
An hour later, Edward emerged into the hall, suitcase in hand, face drawn and pale.
Judith, Ill call.
All right, she replied.
Well need to, you know, arrange paperwork.
Ring me.
He lingered, as though waiting for dramatears, pleading, a fight, anything to restore sense to his universe. But there was nothing but silence.
Edward opened the front door and left.
Three weeks later, Judith learnt from Mrs Watson, a retired colleague with an uncanny knowledge of everyones business, that things with Edward and Harriet had come to nothing.
It transpired Harriet lived with her sisters family in a one-bedroom flathusband, two children. Not exactly loves young dream. Edward rented a room off an elderly landlady in Streatham, no smoking, guests only by arrangement.
When Harriet learned about the rented room and realised Edward had neither home nor prospects, her ardour quickly vanished. It seemed the fantasyof a man ready to give up all for lovewas more appealing than the reality: a man with one bag and a heap of old debts. First loves look best from a distancecloser up, theyre something else entirely.
Judith listened, nodded, and poured Mrs Watson another cup of tea.
How are you, dear? Mrs Watson asked, with the gentle stare promising infinite sympathy.
Im all right, Judith said truthfully.
In those three weeks, shed signed up for massage classessomething shed always wanted but kept putting off. Shed reached out to her friend Sally, whom she hadnt seen in three years; they met in a café, talked for four straight hours. She bought a swimming pool membership. Small things, but life is made of such.
Now and then, if the flat was quiet late in the evening, Judith thought of Edward, without bitterness. Just idle thought. One night, it struck her: it was good hed opened that door himself. She might have lived on for years, never opening it at all.
The kitten calendar was still hanging there. January, Februarya ginger kitten in a red ribbon, each still in their place. Judith looked at it, thinking she ought to finally turn to the current month.
Then she decided: theres time.
