Who Knows Where the River of Fate Will Meander
For the whole of the past month, Edgar had been unusually pensive, barely saying a word to his wife, Margaret. Margaret eyed him with growing suspicion.
Hes definitely ill. Thats ithes coming up to forty-five; were meant to be celebrating his birthday in a nice bistro, and hes moping about. I need to take him by the hand and drag him to Dr Bells surgery. He needs a blood testor whatever it is these days
She unburdened herself to her best friend, Joyce, sharing every gloomy theory and grim notion. Joyce, never lacking an opinion, suddenly blurted out:
My Dave was just the same when hed fallen in love with someone else. He wandered round like a sick sheep.
Oh, for heavens sake, Joyce. Dont start comparing your Dave to my Edgar, Margaret huffed.
And what makes your Edgar better than my Dave, eh?
Well, thats just ithes not. Your Daves a proper heartbreaker, a charmer, always cracking jokes. My Edgar, on the other hand, can barely string two words together. I had to propose to him myself, back in the day. If I hadnt moved in, hed still be the loneliest man in Durham.
Last year, Joyce had caught Dave with some woman from the dog-walking group. Margaret did her bit as a loyal friend.
Just dump him, love. Focus on yourself for once! Chuck the traitor out and have a good crythen move on.
Joyce took this very much to heart, although perhaps not in the way Margaret intended. She kicked Dave out, started bar-hopping, flirted with men like it was a new sport, cut her hair shortexplaining with a stubborn grin, Ive got a new look! Margaret watched her friends transformation in utter dread. Shed meant a pottery class, or perhaps a little Zumba, even some online learningnot the real-life equivalent of Bridget Jones on a bender.
Yet, eventually, Joyce forgave Dave. Margaret couldnt fathom it.
If Edgar ever did that to me, Id never take him back, shed confided, quite certain.
She and Edgar had been married for what seemed an eternitycoming up to twenty-six years, no less. They knew each others tea preferences, shoe sizes, and exact threshold for putting up with irritating in-laws. Theyd raised two sons together and could start looking forward to gentle dotage. Not that they were old yetthere was still that milestone birthday to celebrate, for which Margaret had already recruited half the family for planning. Shed fill Edgar in later.
Their wedding had been timed perfectly to coincide with the end of university. Theyd met on a hiking trip (she was English Lit, he did Chemistry). Both lived in Durham, as fatenegotiated by university buseswould have it. On their final-year group trek, they found themselves sitting by the campfire; it was Margaret who first noticed the shy Edgar. Shed been awkward at first, then, in the blink of an eye, theyd grown close. She even mended his shirt when he tore it scrambling over a stone wall.
Edgar, in turn, lugged her rucksack without complaint. Their friendship quietly slipped into something more. Margaret was, as always, the one to say it first. Im in love with you, she admitted. Edgar, clearing his throat, replied, Margaret I think I feel the same.
Well, in that case, we should just move in together, and Ill sort out the paperwork. Edgar raised no objections.
So she moved her bits and bobs into the flat Edgar shared with his elderly granny, Doris. Edgars father was delightedthe less said about his mothers feud with Granny Doris, the better. Edgar was a saintly grandson, moving in years ago to help his ailing gran, who now had Margaret for company and care.
Oh Edgar, your Margarets a marvel! You hang onto her. Do buy the girl a ring. When you marry, Ill sign the flat over to you both. You must look after her, my boy, Granny used to dote.
So they tied the knot. Granny passed away not long after. Their sons arrived swiftly one after the other, now both over twenty. Life plodded on nicely; holidays by the seaside, a trip to Scotland, once even Mallorcafamilies in tow, of course.
But lately, Edgar seemed a different man. Only the other day, hed said:
I suppose, really, that life has passed us by, Mags. Weve not seen much excitement. Margaret almost spat her tea out.
Edgar! How can you say that? Weve never spent a single school break at home, been to the Lake District, to Whitbyand, honestly, two holidays in Spain! Raised fine boys; grandchildren soon.
Thats not what I meantnever mind, Edgar dismissed her with a wave, an odd look in his eye.
Margaret had other things on her plate anyway.
Do you think we should invite Tom and Alice for your birthday bash? Theyre old friends, even if theyre only in Sheffield these days.
What birthday? Edgar asked, genuinely astonished.
Your birthday, dear! Forty-five, at the bistro.
Oh, am I? I see youve decided…, Edgar gave her that strange look again, but Margaret shrugged it off.
Now Margaret had been sitting alone on the sofa for three hours, staring at the carpet, not crying but close.
Never thought it would happen to me, she muttered.
That evening, Edgar came home early, which was unheard of since hed started working late shifts eighteen months ago.
Evening! he called, plonking himself down in the kitchen without so much as taking off his Barbour jacket.
Edgar, for goodness sake, take your coat off, wash your hands, lets have dinner, Margaret chided with the ease of habit.
But Edgar only sat, staring at his shoes.
Margaret, Im leaving you. Im sorry, he said quietly.
Leaving? Leaving where? Take your coat offyou must be out of sorts, I always saidlets get you in to see Dr Bell
Edgar looked her dead in the eye.
Im not ill. Never mind Dr Bell. Im in lovehave been for two years now. With someone from my office.
Found yourself a young thing, have you? Margaret quipped, suddenly sharp.
No, not younger. Just different. Not a beauty queen. But simply a woman, a real woman.
And what am I, Edgar? Margaret said, utterly bamboozled.
You? Youre my manager, Margaret. And I Im like a dog on a leash. I cant so much as take a step without your nod. You run my life without ever asking what I want. You decide what I wear, where I holiday, what I eat, how to celebrate my birthday. I cant even go to the football because youve decided its a waste of time, even though I love it.
But Ed, I was only trying to make things nice, to organise for you! Margaret protested, but Edgar wasnt finished.
I hand you every penny I earn. You dole out money for my cigarettes and coffee. Have you ever considered how humiliating that is for a grown man? I cant go out for a pint with the lads after work, I can barely buy myself lunch, much less join them at the pub. EverythingI mean everythingis determined by you, he said, quietly but firmly.
Margaret knelt before him, searching his face in a panic.
But Ed, weve always done it this way! If thats what you want, Ill give you a tenner every Friday for the pub. Well go to football. Well do a proper shopping trip. You can pick your own shirts. Im not a monster.
But Edgar just shook his head.
You still dont get it, do you? I want room to breathe, to make decisions, to eat what I like, to exist somewhere youre not overseeing every move. I want a life where I have a say. I mean, even the cat gets more independence; at least she can hiss at you.
With a defeated wobble in her voice, Margaret tried one more time.
And she? Shes not like me? Margaret whispered.
No, she lets me look after her. She lets me be a man. Can you understand? Edgars eyes sparkledjust like they had when he was young and slightly less balding.
Margaret had never seen him so animated. He looked ten years younger. And it all felt absolutely wrong. She thought, At our age? Honestly. What are we playing at? Out loud, she said, Edgar, are you seriously wrecking our family for a whim? What will people say? They think were the perfect couple!
What people, Margaret? What perfect?
Suddenly, Margaret saw it: Edgar wasnt having a mid-life crisis, he was staging a revolution. She burst into tearssomething, frankly, she thought herself immune to.
Youre crying, Margaret? Edgar sounded genuinely surprised.
She hugged him, but he gently separated her arms, collected a suitcase and slipped out of the door, leaving Margaret in the quiet.
Whod have thought, after years of being the respectable wife, Id find myself facing old age alone, she mused, staring at a spot on the carpet.
She rang up Joyce, who was at her door in a flash and tried her best to be comforting.
Marg, get a grip, will you? Honest, were not old. Remember how you lectured me about those adult courses when Dave did a runner? Didnt even need them, as it turned outDave begged forgiveness and, honestly, where else would he find someone like me? Your Edgar well, he might come back. People do.
Although secretly, Joyce didnt believe it either. Edgar was nothing like her Dave.
No, Joyce. Edgars gone for good. Said some things you wouldnt believe. Nohe wont be back, not him. Youd have to know Edgar.
When Joyce left, Margaret just sathours of silence and tea running together. Whom would she fuss over? Whod follow her lists? Shed have to get used to her own company. Or maybe, just maybe, the river of fate would surprise her after all. Who knows to which shore shed one day wash up?
