THE UNGRATEFUL GREG
That morning, Greg called Alice at her office and said hed be going straight to Mark and Karens after work to celebrate with his colleagues.
If you fancy it, come along, he added indifferently, convinced she wouldnt go, expecting Alice would rather spend her evening reading or glued to her laptop.
Alright, she replied just as flatly, but during her lunch break, she wandered over to John Lewis to find a present for her husband. The perfume section was bustling with women.
Alices eye went straight to a bottle of expensive colognea suave man reclined across the glossy black box, jacket slung over one shoulder, a cheeky, amused squint in his eyes. He looked uncannily like her husband, Greg.
The shop assistant was expertly wrapping gifts in shiny foil, sticking on bows with neat precision. Suddenly, an old lady shuffled closer and commented,
Aye, love, you spoil the chaps with aftershave, but itll be other women sniffing it and admiring their ties, you know.
The women burst into laughter, but Alices thoughts turned inward. Shed always lived for Gregeverything for him, and yet he was always turned outward, giving little in return. Shed adored him madly when they were young, and hed basked in her adoration. He did a part-time uni degreeshed stay up through the night writing his assignments. When their children were young, she took on all the burdens herself.
In the beginning, hed been grateful. That faded, replaced by habit. He took her care for granted. If anyone had looked in, perhaps theyd have thought them flawless: comfortable, peaceful, intelligent, well-behaved kids. But the children grew up, left for their own adventures. Alice was left with Gregand she realised something vital was missing.
Her own mother had warned her, all those years ago. Just look at him, hes too handsome for his own good, and he knows italways admiring himself in the mirror. These mentheyre never yours alone. All the women will be after him, and youll be left with the least, though youll have the most right. At the time, Alice, doe-eyed and lovesick, hadnt listened. Obstinately, she married him. Now she was forty-three, feeling invisible, unwanted.
Alice gazed out of the window. The sun was shining with that springtime promise. Mothers Day soon she thought vaguely. So what? Another one by myself How did my life end up herewhats next?
Through the open window came the cheery chirp of a sparrow, followed by an insistent tapping on the glass. Looking down, she saw a scruffy little bird parading along the ledge, one round eye fixed on her.
Thats a sign, if ever there was one, Alice mused. At that very moment, the clock on the wall chimed deeply.
So theres still time! she thought. If no one loves you, you have to love yourself first things first.
She slammed the door behind her and hurried down the stepsoff to the hairdressers, then straight to the shops.
By half past six, her own reflection barely recognised hera mysterious stranger perched in her computer chair. A little black dress, a modern, choppy bob with streaks of gold and auburn, and her eyesalluring and deep with carefully blended makeup. Her lips, with a touch of pencil and gloss, looked plumper and just a little mischievous.
Well then, point two: life really does begin at forty!
She stepped into the kitchen, poured a glass of wine, and clinked it against her reflection with a wry smile. And point threedo I really need a husband who cant appreciate a woman like this?
It hardly needs saying that when she walked into Mark and Karens, teetering on slender heels, the room stopped and several men leapt to help with her coat, offer a chair, or hand her an apple.
Oh, really? Whats that? My husbands here? I didnt even notice
Greg looked utterly floored, caught off guard by her unexpected arrival, her poise, her witty ripostes, and the admiration she stirred.
The next morning, trying to reclaim a bit of territory, Greg tried a familiar tone. Are we ever going to have breakfast? he huffed. But hed misread the moment, or perhaps just hadnt woken up yet, because beside him was no longer that self-sacrificing yes dear Alice.
Instead, a serene, teasing woman stretched out, utterly self-assured and unconcerned.
Without turning her tousled, tricolour head, she purred,
Breakfast? Did you make it yourself, darling?
She rolled over and, drifting back to sleep, smiled to herself: Thats how it is now, love. Otherwise, well, were back to point three, arent we?Greg floundered, searching for the old equilibrium. Alice he began, but the words melted into silence. Alices only answer was a gentle, contented sigh, her hand curling beneath the duvet, every inch the woman whod found herself anew.
Downstairs, the kettle whistled and sunlight spilled in bright shafts over the kitchen tiles, illuminating an untouched bottle of cologne in silver wrappingher would-be gift. With an unhurried grace, she rose, slipped on her robe, and padded to the window. The same sparrow appeared on the sill, cocking its head in greeting. Alice laughed, warm and light, and opened the window wide.
Outside, the world awaitedpossibility humming in the budding trees, the clear morning sky. Alice took a deep breath. Time for someone to enjoy breakfast, she murmured, and, for the first time in years, meant herself first.
She left Greg in the bedroom and walked out under the open skyeach step certain, her spirit as bright and brisk as spring itself. And as she moved forward, her old shadows fell quietly away, replaced by the sure, shining promise of herselfat last, ungratefully free.
