Weve lived under the same roof for forty years, and at sixty-three you decide you want to change your life?
I sat in my favourite armchair, looking out the window, trying to forget the days events. A few hours ago, I was fussing about the kitchen, preparing dinner and waiting for William to return from his fishing trip. When he did come back, it wasnt with a catch, but with news hed clearly been dreading to share.
I want a divorce. Please try to understand, William said, avoiding my gaze. The girls are grown now, theyll get it, and the grandchildren wont be bothered. We can end this easily and without a fuss.
Forty years together, and now, at sixty-three, youre changing everything? I asked, unable to process it. I have a right to know what comes next.
You can keep the flat in Nottingham; Ill move to the cottage, William explained, his mind obviously made up. Theres nothing to divide and eventually, the girls will inherit everything anyway.
Whats her name? I asked, defeated.
He flushed, fumbled with his things, and pretended not to hear me which told me everything I needed to know. In our youth, I never imagined this sort of trouble; never believed Id grow old alone with my husband off chasing another woman.
Maybe things will get better, Mum, my daughters, Victoria and Harriet, tried to reassure me later. Dont let Dads behaviour get you down.
Nothing will get better, I sighed. Its pointless to change anything now. Ill see out my days and find joy in your happiness.
Victoria and Harriet drove to the cottage to speak with their father. They returned home dispirited, but refrained from telling me what was said. Instead, their tone changedthey insisted living alone might suit me and that I wouldnt have to look after anyone else. I understood without asking any more, and simply tried to carry on. It wasnt easy; relatives and neighbours couldnt help but ask probing questions and show curiosity.
Imagine, all those years together, and now hes run off with another woman, the more tactless neighbours commented. Is she younger than you or richer?
I never knew what to say, but increasingly wondered about the woman herself, wanting to see her. With that in mind, I decided to visit Williams cottage, using the excuse of picking up some homemade chutney from summer. I didnt warn him, hoping Id meet herand I did.
William, you never said your ex would turn up, complained an extravagant lady with garish makeup. I thought all those matters were settled; I dont see why she needs to be here.
So you seriously traded me for this? I asked, sizing up the brash woman.
Will you just stand there and let her insult me? she screeched. For your information, Im only a couple of years younger than you and look far better.
If she really believes her loud appearance is her main value at this age, I said, meeting Williams embarrassed gaze.
On my way to the bus stop, I could still hear the shrill calls of that gaudily painted ageing Barbie, trying not to cry. Once home, I let my feelings loose and phoned Nina, my sister.
Come on, dear, Nina soothed, brewing mint tea. You said yourself Williams new flame isnt pretty and seems rather daft.
Maybe shes right, maybe I do look like an old woman, my doubts crept in.
You look good for your age, Nina replied, honestly. I just think its a mistake for women in their seventies to squeeze into leopard leggings or wear a mini. A woman can be lovely at any age if she presents herself and dresses appropriately.
Staring at my reflection, I had to agree. My health was decent, and I dressed wellmy daughters always treated me to nice makeup. Id never been one to show off or become a spectacle; so I couldnt imagine behaving like Williams new partner.
Well, then, Nina continued, since youre single, you can live as you please. The girls are grown, there are plenty of opportunities for cultural outings and growth at our age. I wont let you give up.
True to her word, Nina dragged me to the theatre, for walks, and concerts. Before long, wed gathered a group of peerswith one gentleman even paying me too much attention (which I promptly discouraged).
Heard youre off to the theatre these days, found new friendsmaybe youll even get married again? William teased during a chance encounter at the supermarket.
And what brings you so far for groceries? Is there nothing closer to your cottage, or does your new wife not cook? I asked.
Ive always shopped herehard to change old habits at our age, he grumbled.
I refused to continue the conversation and used my supposed busyness to head home. William seemed to want desperately to catch up to me, confessing his regret over the split. Hed spent his whole life beside his wife and daughters, then got swept up in the dizzy antics of lively Tiffany.
At first, life seemed fun with herbut soon Tiffanys dislike for chores came to light. She preferred spreading gossip, flirting with men, and noisy gatherings.
Now, William found himself longing for home; after seeing me, that feeling grew. I didnt create drama, didnt quarrelI simply endured nobly. He hadnt realised how much hed miss the calm and comfort that he only had with me.
Youve bought apricots again; I asked for prunes, Tiffany scolded, inspecting Williams shopping. And the cheese is the wrong fat content, and you forgot the mayonnaise entirely!
Maria used to handle the shoppingor we did it together. You expect me to do everything alone, William retorted.
Stop comparing me to your ex, Tiffany shrieked. Admit it, you regret leaving her for me.
He did regret it, but there was no point in saying so. I hadnt manipulated or plottedjust remained myself, while William desperately wished for forgiveness.
But he knew that I would never trust him again or let him back in. Several times, he tried to call, and after one argument with Tiffany, he even came to the door of what once had been our flat.
Did you need to collect something? I asked, keeping him at the threshold.
I just want to talk, do you have time? he stammered, catching the smell of his favourite plum pie wafting out.
I havent got time, or patience, or inclination. I replied calmly. Take whatever you came forIm expecting guests.
He had nothing to collect, but plenty to say, although the right words escaped him. He returned to his cottage, cooked for himself whilst Tiffany busied herself in the village. When she returned, suitably tipsy, William finally made up his mind and gave her time to pack her things.
After the drama Tiffany unleashed, he nearly phoned me to complainbut decided against it, soothing himself. He knew me too well to hope for forgiveness or reconciliation.
Perhaps, someday, he might come by, seeking redemption and we would talk. He needed to do it to find peace, but he knew Id never forgive him or let him backnot after what hed done with Tiffany.
Now, William spent his days in the cottage, while I lived in the flat in Nottingham, enjoying visits with my daughters, grandchildren, and outings to the theatre. There was no longer a place for my former husband in this chapter of my life.
