The Secret Beneath the Sofa
Eleanor sat by the kitchen window, watching the autumn wind dance with fallen leaves. Her thoughts were interrupted when Grace burst in, her voice bright with excitement. “Mum, guess what! I’m getting married! Liam and I just filed the papers—the wedding’s in a month!” Eleanor froze, hardly believing her ears. “Darling, are you serious?” she breathed. “Why so sudden? You never mentioned a thing!”
Grace, glowing with joy, explained how Liam, her sweetheart, had swept her off to the registry office on a whim. “We were walking past, and he just grabbed my hand and said, ‘Got your ID? Let’s do it!’ I didn’t even argue,” she laughed. Eleanor, still reeling, murmured, “Liam’s coming tomorrow with his mother to ask for your hand.” She gazed at her daughter, struck by how swiftly time had flown. “Best get ready,” she thought, her heart tightening with joy and unease.
At dawn, Eleanor rose early. The table needed setting, and she had to make herself presentable—guests like these didn’t call every day. As the apple pie baked in the oven, her mind wandered. She liked Liam: steady, five years Grace’s senior, he’d run his own auto repair shop for a year now. Raised by a single mother, he was hardworking and dependable. But her thoughts drifted further back, to a life that hadn’t turned out as she’d dreamed.
Twenty years ago, Eleanor had been a girl in love with Anthony. They’d met at a dance in the town hall, he a tad older, full of charm. They’d strolled till midnight, rowed on the Thames, breathed in the scent of freshly cut grass. She’d never been happier. Then everything changed when she learned she was expecting. Her mother scolded but stood by her. Anthony, when he heard, agreed to marry. “We’ll be a family,” he’d said, and Eleanor believed him.
While she prepared for the baby, Anthony left for work up north. Money was tight, especially with a child on the way. He’d return with what seemed like fortunes, then vanish again. Her mother-in-law, a kind soul, had adored Eleanor from the start. When it was time to bring her and Grace home from the hospital, Anthony never came. Her mother and his arrived with flowers, but their evasive glances unsettled her. She told herself he’d been held up, but her heart knew better.
Lost in motherhood, Eleanor stayed with her mother-in-law—Anthony’s doing. Then one day, tidying the room, she found a letter wedged beneath the sofa. His handwriting. “Mum, don’t know how to tell Eleanor, but I’m in trouble. Met a girl at a mate’s birthday. She’s seventeen, pregnant. Her brother and dad gave me an ultimatum: marry her or else. I chose marriage. Don’t want the hassle. Tell Eleanor yourself. We’ll divorce. I’ll support Grace, won’t abandon her.” The words choked her, tears hot on her cheeks.
How had she survived the betrayal? With her mother and mother-in-law’s help. She moved back home, despite the older woman’s pleas to stay. “I couldn’t bear it if he brought his new family here,” she’d explained. Yet her mother-in-law never wavered. She visited daily, brought treats for Grace, as if atoning for her son. “You’re like a daughter to me,” she’d say. “Grace is my sunshine.” Eleanor bore no grudge, seeing how the woman adored her grandchild.
But her mother-in-law’s health failed. One day, after three silent days, Eleanor rushed over. The woman, clutching her hand, confessed, “I’ve been ill a year and a half. Forgive Anthony. He shamed me. Promise you won’t call him, even when I’m gone. The house and savings are Grace’s.” Eleanor kept her word. The funeral passed without Anthony.
Three years later, Eleanor’s own mother died. Left alone with Grace, now thirteen, she found solace in her daughter’s brilliance—top of her class, sweet-natured. Years slipped by, until one evening, outside their flat, she ran into Anthony. He was haggard, weary, none of his old swagger left. “Ellie, hello,” he tried to smile. She steadied herself, betraying nothing.
“How’s Grace? Brought some money—know I owe you. Life’s not been kind,” he muttered, digging in his pocket.
“We’re fine,” Eleanor said coolly. “Your mother didn’t want you called, even when she was ill. She couldn’t bear to see you.”
Anthony mumbled something about wanting to meet Grace, but Eleanor was already inside. Later, neighbours gossiped: his marriage had crumbled; the child wasn’t his but his wife’s and her schoolmate’s. She’d left him, and he’d never remarried.
The scent of pie brought Eleanor back. She laid the table, glancing out the window. “How time flies,” she mused. “Grace a bride. Feels like yesterday I braided her hair, and now she’s marrying.” Through the glass, she saw Liam help Grace from the car, then offer his mother an arm. “Such a gentleman,” she smiled.
“Mum, this is Liam’s mother, Margaret,” Grace announced.
“Just Maggie,” the woman smiled, offering her hand. “Pleasure.”
The youngsters vanished into the parlour, while Eleanor and Maggie chatted like old friends. They laughed, shared stories, both certain their children would be happy. They blessed Grace and Liam, vowing to fill their lives with love.
