I levelled the garden, set up raised flower beds for Julie, put up a gazebo. Even inside the house, you could see the difference a solid mans hand made. No, Julie chose well. Absolutely the right choice. And I earned a living tooalways trying to spoil Julie with presents.
You never loved me, did you? I said to her one evening as we sat, my spirits low. You only married me without any love. Will you leave me now that Im ill?
I wont leave! Julie hugged me tightly and said, Youre the best man in the world! Id never leave you
It almost seemed too good to be true. I could hardly believe it, but Julie meant it.
Julie had been married for twenty-five years and, throughout all those years, men were still drawn to her. Shed been the most sought-after girl in her younger days. Even back at school, nearly all the boys had eyes for Julie. Yet shed never been a classic beauty.
Despite that, she never left her husband, Tom, though he was a characternever straightforward, always a bit unpredictable. Julie kept her vows until the very end. We raised a daughter, sent her off into the world. Sophie married, her husband whisked her away off to France, where theyd send back beautiful photos and invite us out to visit. Yet Julie never took them up on it. Maybe one day shed go. But for Tom, it was all over.
Tom died in a car accidentsuch a senseless thing. Later, they said hed probably taken ill at the wheel. His heart might have faltered, he got confused and lost control.
Maybe he blacked out? she guessed.
Well never know now, sighed her friend, Helen, a doctor. Cause of death: multiple injuries incompatible with life.
Julie was in shock. Helen stepped in to help organise everything. She found out all the details through her own contacts. Tom was buried, and Julie was left alone in the large house she and Tom had built themselves over the years.
For two, it was just comfortable enough, especially when guests came round. But for one the place was enormous, a weight to carryespecially for a woman.
A house is still a house, but you need a man’s touch to keep it going.
Sophie came back for her fathers funeral. She tried to convince her mum to sell the house, buy a flat, maybe even move across to France.
Oh, no! Julie said sharply. I didnt build this house just to go and sell it. And Im not moving to France. Ive seen France
Mum!
Youre daft, Sophie! Julie smiled tearfully. Im just joking.
Well, if youre joking, maybe things arent so bad.
The whole situation was complicated. Just like Tom wassometimes a caring and loving man, sometimes ruled by his moods. There were days hed fray every last one of Julies nerves. But hed always be sorry, apologise, and Julie was the forgiving sortshe never held on to things for long. Thats how they lived. Twenty-five years! Enough to drive anyone barmy.
After the funeral, Sophie went back home. Her husband worked long hours; she was needed at home to keep the fires burning. Julie was left alone.
But knowing herself, she didnt expect to stay alone for long.
And she was righthalf a year of sadness, then she dried her tears and realised she already had a small fan club fluttering about her.
Even Julies own mother found her popularity with men surprising.
I dont know what they see in you. Theyre falling like dominoes! Youre not even what Id call a beauty or am I missing something?
Youre kind, Mum, Julie would reply, dabbing on lipstick. Beautys nothing. Its just noise. A woman should have charm and spirit. A spark.
Oh, off you go now, girl, her mother laughed. Or your suitor will get tired of waiting and leave.
Therell be another, Julie would shrug nonchalantly.
Nearly thirty years passed since that old chat with her mum, but nothing had changed. Women complained there were no men left to marry after forty, no one decent. Julie never understood that problem. At forty-six, she had not one, but two suitors, both good men.
Julies heart leaned towards Peter. She liked himclever, charming, a great conversationalist. With Peter, she felt both comfortable and stimulated, and he looked the part too. But Peter was all talk, a master of words. Julie liked him for those words, but she was honest enough with herself to knowhe wasnt right for her home, her life.
The other man, John, was a straightforward, solid bloke. The sort who might drink a bit too much at a party, but with hands that could mend or build anything. An easy-going fellow but with a core of steel. With his wife, hed be as gentle as a puppy, but if need be, hed move mountains for her. Yet, oddly, Julie fancied John less. That was silly womans logic.
He didnt sweep her off her feet with romance. Sober, John was the quiet type; get a few pints in him and hed open upcrack a joke, tell a good story and brighten up a room. He could really put it away, but he was right as rain the next daycold shower and back to work. Not much for words, but when he spoke, it mattered. Julie chose John.
Peter huffed off, stung that all his flowery speeches had failed.
Julie married John, and he was over the moon. He drank a bit too much at the wedding, sang, danced until he dropped.
Honestly, Julie, Helen said at the wedding, its barely been a year since Tom passed. Nothings changed! Other women cant find a man for love nor money, but youstep out your front door and they line up!
Dont you start, Julie laughed. Go on, ask me what they see in me, since Im not a looker.
No, noI wont say that. But your popularity iswell, odd.
I dont know myself. Go and discuss it with Mum.
Julie winked at her friend and went to dance with her new husband, whod just come over and asked her. While dancing, she dispelled any lingering doubts. So what if John was simple? He was strong, skilled, and still looked good. And if he kept quiet most of the time, that wasnt so bad either. If shed picked Peterwhat would nice words have got her? Words dont build a home.
Within months, John transformed Julies garden into a dream: cleared old trees, laid new beds, built a gazebo. His hard-working hands were everywhereinside and outside the house.
Julie couldnt help but think how she wished shed met John earlier. He was a gem.
In the warmer months, theyd barbecue outside, dine under the shelter John built, with its sturdy wooden table and benches.
After stuffing herself with steak, Julie would laze like a contented cat, and John would smile at her.
What is it, John? shed ask.
Nothing. Just happy.
Johns first wife was a bore. Hed never believed hed find such happiness again.
They enjoyed four blissful years before John started to feelnot right. Hed tire quickly, grow thin for no clear reason. If he had a drink, hed feel dreadful.
John, you need to see a GP! Julie insisted. Somethings not right.
Nonsense, love, itll sort itself!
What is this, the dark ages? Suppose it doesnt? Are you afraid of doctors like most men?
No.
He didnt say what really scared him. Truth is, he was terrified Julie would leave him if he turned out seriously ill. After all, how many women would stick by a sick man?
He wasnt daft; he knew Julie married him for sensible reasons, not passionate love. But he loved her, all the same.
Hed first spotted her in the shop, struggling with her purse in her bag, and lost his heart instantly. That vulnerability was unbearably touchinghe wanted to scoop her up and protect her forever. Even his mum had her doubts when she met Julie:
Son, its your life, but what have you seen in her? Shes no great beauty and hardly young. You could marry a much younger lass!
But John wanted no one but Julie. And now, if he truly was ill, would Julie still want him?
Julie couldnt persuade John to the doctor. One Saturday, Helen and her husband, George, came over for a barbecue. John and George stood over the grill with their beers. In the kitchen, Julie asked Helen,
Do you think Johns ill?
Wellhes looking worse. Lost a lot of weight. And his skin looks a bit yellow to me, Helen replied quietly.
Oh Lord! Helen, please, can you convince him to see someone? He might listen to you, since youre a doctor.
Helen looked at her friend seriously.
Julie do you love him? I remember you had your doubts
Julie bit her lip and said nothing.
Helen never got the chance to talk him roundJohn collapsed at dinner. We called an ambulanceJulie rode with him. He never regained consciousness. She held his hand, praying for him.
They operated almost immediately.
A tumour on the liver, the surgeon told her.
Cancer? Julies voice shook.
Were waiting for the results.
The tumour turned out benign, but it was large by the time John was operated on.
Afterwards, the doctors banned just about everything and said recovery would be slowand maybe not complete. Age catches up eventually.
John was utterly disheartened. While Julie was at work, his mother, Mrs. Wilkins, visited him in hospital with homemade food he was allowed, though the list was depressingly short.
Son, I hardly recognise you! Mrs. Wilkins said sternly. Cheer up! You survived this and its not cancer. You ought to be grateful, not moping! Here, eat your mince and mashed potatoes.
Not hungry.
Well, you need to eat. Is Julie visiting?
She comesfor now, said John gloomily.
What, you think shell leave you? Then shed be a fool!
Im useless now! Cant even work. Ill be fifty come June, and Im an invalid. Who needs an invalid?
Julie walked in, catching the tail end.
Whats all this racket in here? she said, washing her hands. Shouting loud enough for the whole ward! Good afternoon, Mrs. Wilkins.
Im off. Hello, Julie. Goodbye.
Whats happened?
Mrs. Wilkins waved her off and left. Julie sat by Johns bed.
Whats this all about, you silly man? All limbs present and correct. The rest will mend. You know what I read about livers?
What?
Its the only organ that can regenerate entirelyif at least fifty-one percent is left. Youve got sixty percent. Give it time, and you’ll mend.
Will I have enough time?
What?
Time, Julie.
John, whats wrong? Is there something they havent told me? Did you ask the doctors to keep something from me?
Its not that…
He was discharged, and the next part was the hardest. Any hint of work left him utterly exhausted. That stung his pride more than anything.
And his fiftieth was around the cornernot a happy thought. Couldnt eat properly, certainly couldnt drinkwhat joy was there in that?
Julie seemed not to notice how quickly he tired. She happily tucked in beside him to their diet food.
Julie, he said one day, summoning courage. Whatll happen to us now?
What dyou mean? she asked, puzzled.
I meanIm slow to recover. Youll leave, wont you? Best to tell me now.
Why ever would I leave you? I love being with you.
That was when I could do everythingwork, fix things. Now whats left? I cant even stand myself some days.
Nonsense. Pull yourself together!
Im trying! But whats this? Two taps with a hammer and Im done in for the day.
Julie hugged him from behind, resting her cheek on his shoulder.
I love you. Ill never leave. And dont rush your recovery. Let things happen as they will.
Do you love me? Really? he murmured.
I really do.
And she didnt leave. Slowly, John did start to bounce back.
Julie organised his birthday without any alcohol so he wouldnt feel left out. A few close friends came, they sat in the gazebo, played games.
Youve done well for yourself, John, his mates remarked as they left.
You lotll probably be off home for a sneaky pint, eh? he said slyly.
They laughed and headed off.
That night, Julie and I sat out on the porch, staring up into the stars. For the first time in months, I felt something like happinesshope. That maybe I wasnt as broken as I feared, and that my wife truly wouldnt leave me. I pulled Julie in close.
What is it, John?
Everythings alright, I told her.
At last, Julie sighed, kissing me on the cheek.
We were happy.
And what I learned was this: A good marriage isnt about grand gestures or perfect words, but about standing together through itrain or shine. Love isnt always loud and passionate; sometimes, its simply never giving up on each other.
