12January
Tonight it feels as if the whole world has turned its back on me, and Im left alone with a halffinished shopping list and a house that smells faintly of the perfume Ivy once gave me.
Im leaving! Edward shouted.
Leaving where? I asked, my mind still on the mince pies and the roast potatoes I was planning for NewYears Eve.
Completely!
How completely? I pressed, trying to keep my voice steady. What about NewYears?
He rolled his eyes, his expression as tired as a London commuter after the last tube strike. What NewYear? When will you ever learn?
He spoke each word as if he were reciting a nursery rhyme, the syllables hanging awkwardly in the kitchen. Im leaving you. Completely. Ive found someone else and were expecting a baby. Is that clear now?
The words landed like bricks. My heart thumped against my ribs; the thought of the empty future he described was almost too much to bear. I wanted to ask, And what about me? but the question felt as pointless as asking a weather forecaster why it rains.
Edward had already packed a woollen sweater with reindeer motifsa gift hed coveted for years, which Id bought for him in a shop on Oxford Street for the price of a few pence. Hed wrapped it, slipped it into a box, and left it on the hall table, hoping perhaps that a material token could cover the emotional chasm hed created.
He had already arranged his new life, the younger womanLucywho, Im sure, looks fresh and lively, certainly more in line with his whims. He boasted about the forthcoming child as if it were a promotion at work, his eyes glinting with a perverse sort of pride.
I stared at the list Id been drafting, the one that included turkey, Brussels sprouts, and a bottle of Prosecco for the party wed planned with my friends. The house was decorated with a twinkling fir, its ornaments reflecting the soft glow of fairy lights. The snow outside had been sparse this year, a disappointment to the festive spirit, yet the December sales had already begun in the high street, and I had managed to secure gifts for everyoneearrings for my sisters, a scarf for my mother, a new set of teacups for my grandchildren.
All of that now seemed absurd.
A muffled knock on the door pulled me from my reverie. It was Edward, his knapsack slung over his shoulder, a swaddled infant cradled in his arms.
Hes five months old, he said, almost matteroffact.
Wheres Lucy? I asked, my voice flat.
Shes moved on, he replied, eyes flicking away.
I felt a strange mixture of anger and pity. You want me to take this baby? I asked, the words tasting sour.
He tried to laugh it off, I cant manage alone.
I imagined the tiny life in my arms, the soft breathing, the helplessness. The idea of caring for anothers childespecially one tied to a man who had just walked out on mefelt like an impossible hill.
Fine, I said finally, the words slipping out like a reluctant surrender. Ill look after him for a night.
He hesitated, then stepped inside, the door closing behind him with a soft click. The house seemed suddenly colder, the festive lights casting long shadows across the floorboards.
Later, after Edward left and the infants quiet sighs faded, I stood in the kitchen, the list still halfwritten. My hand hovered over the line that read Prosecco. I crossed it out with a decisive stroke, the pens ink a blur of regret.
The phone rang. It was Molly, my dear friend from school.
Whats happening with you and Ian? she asked, her tone a blend of curiosity and concern.
Ian left, I whispered. Hes gone with his new love and a baby.
Molly sighed, Everyone knows now. Im sorry, Eleanor.
Silence settled between us, thick as the fog over the Thames.
The night stretched on, the city lights twinkling far below, and I walked home alone, the snow falling gently, muffling the worlds noise. I told myself, Let them be happy. Its not my burden to carry their misery.
A year later, the calendar turned again. The tree was once more adorned with ornaments, the kitchen again littered with a fresh shopping list. This time, I was meeting Molly for NewYears at her flat, and Victormy new acquaintancehad asked me out for dinner, promising a fresh start.
Just as I was about to head out, there was a knock. Edward stood there again, a sack over his shoulder, the baby now asleep in his arms.
What are you doing here? I asked, a mix of astonishment and irritation bubbling up.
Thought Id drop him off, he said, eyes darting. If I cant keep him, perhaps you can.
I stared at the tiny face, the innocence of it cutting through the hurt Id built around my heart. I took a deep breath, feeling the cold air fill my lungs.
Fine, I said, softer than I intended. But youre not staying.
He nodded, relief evident on his tired features. Im sorry. I was a fool.
As he left, the door closing with a soft thud, I stood alone again, the babys soft coo lingering in the hallway. I realized that life, much like a British summer, is unpredictablefull of sudden bursts of rain and sunshine.
I went back to the kitchen, crossed off Prosecco once more, and wrote a new line: Buy ingredients for Victors favourite lasagne. The future felt uncertain, but for the first time in months, there was a glimmer of possibility on the horizon.
