I was waiting for my husband to come home from the works, and I sat at the kitchen table sipping thymeinfused tea, taking my time with each swallow. When I heard the click of a key in the lock, I rose and paused in the doorway. In stepped Ian, my husband, looking grave and silent.
Hello, I was the first to say, late again, Ive been waiting forever
Hello, Ian replied. You could have missed me; Im not hungry. Ill be in and out, just grabbing a few things and then Ill be off, he said without even taking off his shoes. He drifted into the hallway, opened the wardrobe and began shoving his belongings into a suitcase.
I stood there, stunned. I watched, bewildered, as he tossed the first random items into the bag.
Ian, explain whats happening, I demanded.
You dont get it? Im leaving you, he said flatly, avoiding my eyes.
Where to?
To another woman
Youre off with some young thing, are you? Youre only forty, thats not old, I snapped, a hint of sarcasm creeping in as the reality hit me. I wont shed a tearhe wont see my grief, I whispered to myself, then out loud, How long have you been seeing her?
Almost a year, Ian said calmly. Seeing my surprise, he added, Thats your business. If you never noticed, I was doing a fine job of keeping it hidden.
Youre going for good or I blurted, halfasked.
Emma, are you completely clueless? Listen carefullyIm leaving you for someone else. Were expecting a child with her. We couldnt have a baby together, so Kate will give me a son. You have one month to get out of my flat. Where you go and how you manage that is your problem. Well be living with Kate and the baby while she stays in a rented house.
Ian walked out. I was left alone, the walls pressing in, the flat dead quiet. I turned the television on just to hear something. Ian and I had spent twelve years together; it took me about a week to pull myself together, but I managed.
My late parents had left me a cottage in a village. I didnt want to live alone out in the sticks.
I cant stay there, I thought. Its far from civilisation, no amenities, no workat thirtyfive I dont want to spend my days in a rural hole. Ill sell the place and use the proceeds to rent a room in a council flat or a dormitory; the rest will sort itself out.
So I sold the cottage as soon as I got back to the village. My neighbour Margaret was waiting for me.
Darling, thank goodness youre here. We were about to drive into town looking for you.
Whats happened? I asked.
My relatives want to buy your house. Theyve come down from the North and need a modest place they can fix up. They want to be near usmy sister and her husband
My God, Margaret, thats why I came. Lets just agree on a price. Heres my number
Within ten days the money was in my handshardly a fortune, but enough from a dilapidated property. I bought a tiny room in a council block. The kitchen was shared, two other occupants lived in adjoining rooms, and the third I kept for myself. I called it a council flat.
The other flatmates seemed quiet, respectable folk. I barely crossed paths with them; my days were spent at work, and it was there that I fell into a romance with a colleague, Tim. Everything seemed to be going well, at least from my point of view.
A few days before International Womens Day, Tim told me:
Ive got a lot to think about. Im not sure about my feelings. Lets take a break.
Finewhy dont you just disappear into the woods? I snapped.
That evening I came home angry, my thirtysixth birthday approaching, with no time for pauses. I decided to vent my stress on food. I opened the fridge and saw a small slice of ham, but it wasnt there. My stomach clenched.
Who took my ham? I shouted across the kitchen.
It was me, love, replied Vera, the woman next door, I tossed it two days ago. Itd gone green and smelled foul, so I thought you wouldnt want to eat it. Better not risk your health.
You dont get to decide what I eat, I retorted, furious. Dont touch my things.
I erupted, directing all my anger at Vera. Not only had I split with my husband and lost my home, but now my colleague was pulling away, and now my neighbours were pilfering my food.
Vera, calm down, said Ivan Clarke, the older gentleman from the next room.
He was about sixty, silverhaired, bespectacled, and always perched in his armchair with a newspaper. Vera looked upset.
Sarahs anger is running high. Shes lashing out at you because someone else has hurt her. Dont take it personally, Ivan said, still reading.
What would you know? I snapped. No one asked your opinion.
Believe me, I know a bit, he replied.
If youre so wise, why live in this shabby council flat? I ranted, unstoppable.
Later I softened and decided I ought to apologise. Vera looked away, then retreated to her room. I slammed my door shut and flopped onto the sofa.
Another kitchen philosopher, always doling out advice, I muttered, hungry and irritated.
An hour passed. I calmed down, opened my laptop, and remembered Id bought that ham ages ago. I felt foolish.
Ive offended Vera for nothing, and shes been nothing but kind. My nerves are frayed; I dont want to be a scandalqueen, I thought. I need to apologise.
I found Vera in the kitchen.
Forgive me, Vera, I dont know what came over me. So much has piled up Ivans right, I said.
She smiled, wrapped me in a hug.
It happens, love. Lets have tea with biscuits. You should also apologise to Ivan, hes been through a lot. He used to be a university professor, had a lovely flat in the city centre, a good job. Then his wife fell ill with brain cancer. Doctors said it was too late. He tried a clinic in Israel, borrowed a massive sum, and they operated. It didnt help much; she lived a bit longer and then passed. He quit his job, cared for her, and after she died sold his flat to clear the debts. Thats how he ended up here.
I nearly wept at his story.
Thank you for sharing, I whispered. Tomorrow Ill apologise properly.
The next day, after work, I knocked timidly on Ivans door, holding a small gift.
Good evening, Ivan, I said, extending the present. Please accept my apologies, for Gods sake. I didnt deserve to offend you yesterday.
He listened without interrupting. When I finished, he smiled.
What a pleasant surprise. Ill accept both the gift and your apologyif youll join me for a celebration. Its my birthday today.
Oh, happy birthday! The gift is perfect, I replied, delighted. How can I help?
Vera and I set the table together. While we were arranging the dishes, I opened up to Vera, telling her about my youthful follyhow, as an innocent university student, Id trusted a married man, become pregnant, and hed taken me to the hospital and paid for everything. We later split; I never managed to have a child, and perhaps thats why my exhusband left.
Just as the table was ready, there was a knock at the door. A tall, smiling man in his forties stood there.
Good afternoon, Im Roman, Veras son, he introduced himself.
Come in, Sarah, make yourself at home, Vera said.
The conversation at the table was lively. We wished Ivan health and happiness, laughing heartily. Roman turned out to be a fascinating conversation partner; hed been a geologist once, now worked as a longhaul truck driver, so his stories were endless.
Only the day before, Id known none of these people; now we were sharing a meal as if we were family.
After a few hours, Ivan and Vera retired to their rooms. Roman suggested:
Shall we take a walk? Tell me about yourself. Im not often here; I have a flat in the city and travel a lot, but my mother refuses to move in with me. Secretly, shes a bit infatuated with Ivan, and I think he feels the same, he laughed. Im rarely home, so marrying seemed out of reach. I was married when I was a geologist; while I was away, someone else took my place.
Winter had just arrived in the town, snow falling in thick flakes, the world hushed and still. Roman and I talked for hours, the cold never reaching us. Eventually we went our separate ways.
Three days later Roman announced he was heading out on a long haul.
Will you wait for me? I asked.
For a week, then Ill be back. Will you wait?
Of course, Ill be waiting, I promised.
Thus began our romance, which blossomed into a deep love. We married, I moved in with him, and a year later our little boy, Archie, was born. When Roman was away on his routes, Archie and I would return to my council flat for a spell.
Days of waiting passed quickly. Vera and Ivan proved wonderful grandparents to Archieno better nannies could be found.
