Youll never manage without me! You cant do a thing on your own! my husband shouted as he packed his shirts tightly into a big holdall.
But she did manage. She didnt crumble. Maybe, if shed let herself dwell on how she would survive with two children, perhaps conjured up a list of terrors, maybe she might have forgiven his betrayal. But there was no time for any of that; she had to get her daughters to nursery and dash to work. Her husband had only returned home half an hour before, smug with his newfound love, brimming with the sort of confidence only some men can summon when they believe the world owes them nothing and will grant them everything.
So, shrugging on her coat, Tessa gave clear, quick instructions:
Olivia, help Annie do up her jacket and make sure she eats well at nursery. The nursery teacher said shes been refusing her porridge lately.
And Harry, try to take all your precious possessions with you at once. Dont drag things out. Drop the flat key in the letterbox on your way out. Goodbye.
Olivia was born half an hour before Annie, so she took on the elder sister mantle. Both were four, both fiercely independent with their own peculiarities. Olivia would quietly eat detested semolina just because she should, while Annie would firmly disagree: Its lumpy. I wont eat that.
Fortunately, the nursery was just around the cornera quick ten-minute walk. The girls chatted away, unwittingly distracting her from the growing knot of worry about their future. Work too left no room for personal pondering; as a GP, Tessas appointments were scheduled to the minute. Home visits filled any gaps.
Only in the evening, when she saw the empty coat hangers in the hallwhere his jackets should have beendid she fully realise she was now alone. But self-pity wasnt her style; life had to go on, better than before. Theres always the option to wallow in misery, or to calmly review what’s needed, look for solutions, and try to spot a sliver of good. For a start, there was dinner to prepare.
So whats really changed for us girls? Tessa mused, slicing up salad vegetables. My husbands gone. What did he actually do that I cant? Nothing I cant handle. I just need to tweak our routine a bit. Well do fine. Itll be even better. I dont want to live constantly wondering where he isoff with his girlfriend again? Id rather face the challenge alone. Its harder, but its peaceful.
After reading another chapter from The Adventures of Pinocchio and kissing the girls goodnight, Tessa hurried to the bathroom; the washing machine had finished, and the laundry needed hanging.
Before bed, she made herself a cup of tea, gathered her thoughts, and planned out tomorrow. The twins were like two peas in a pod. Two children perhaps made things trickier, but Tessa had never thought of it that way. She was always surprised when others pitied her.
Were fine, shed say, Nobodys running themselves into the ground. I can cope.
The kettle boiled. She brewed herself a mug of tea with her favourite lemon balm, clicked on the warm lamp. Outside, the weather was drearya mix of sleet and snowbut the flat was warm and peaceful except for the gentle ticking of the wall clock
Thats when the doorbell rang. Tessa opened the door and was surprised to find her neighbour standing there: Mrs. Jenkins, an elderly widow whom she had always found rather off-putting. Every morning shed see Mrs. Jenkins walking her scrawny mongrel, never failing to greet Tessa, albeit with thin lips pursed in a frosty Good morning. Tessa had seen that dog by the bins more than once, watching the rubbish intently, starving and scruffy. Clearly, the old lady had taken pity and brought her home. No one ever visited Mrs. Jenkins; she just popped to the shops and walked her dog.
Im sorry to bother you, Mrs. Jenkins said, pulling her shawl tighter, but I saw your husband loading his things into the car today. Has he left you?
Thats none of your business, Tessa snapped.
No, your husband isnt my business. But I just wanted you to knowif you ever need a hand, you can always ask me. I could watch the girls, or help in other ways.
Come in, Tessa offered, slightly embarrassed. Whats your name? she asked, pouring out two cups of tea and setting out a tin of biscuits. Help yourself.
My names Evelyn Jenkins. And yours, I knowTessa. Mrs. Jenkins nibbled a biscuit and said, Im not trying to interfere. Just know that if you ever need anything, Id be glad to help. Not for moneysimply for the pleasure. It does me good. Really.
She sipped her tea and nodded appreciatively. Lovely. Is this lemon balm? I grow all sorts of herbs in my garden, including that. Do come down in summer to visit. There are plenty of apples on the old treedelicious
Tessa looked at Mrs. Jenkins and wondered why shed found her unpleasant. Perhaps because she hadnt ever fawned or pried, never asked if Tessa coped with twins, nor dived into her private life like others. She just walked by quietly. Tessa had mistaken silence for pride. And now, Mrs. Jenkins hadnt said a word about her husband, hadnt poured salt on the woundjust offered genuine help.
Tessa took in Mrs. Jenkins with new eyes: neat, fresh slippers, hair in a tidy bun, a dress with a lace collar, carrying with her a gentle trace of perfume.
Listening to her neighbour talk about the garden, the apples, the little hot shed for summer, and the lake by the cottage where greedy ducks waddled all season, Tessas worries melted a little, leaving warmth in their place.
She remembers it all, though five years have passed. Remembers her husbands words bellowed in her face: Youll never manage! You cant do it! But thats all behind her now.
Evelyn deftly slices apples, arranging them on pastry before slipping the tray into the hot oven. The salads are prepared, the stew quietly simmers on the hob. Today is Evelyns birthday. Its August, and the windows and doors of the cosy cottage are thrown open. The air is filled with the scent of apple pie.
How shes helped me! Tessa thinks, watching her neighbours cheeks flush at the ovens warmth. What would I have done without her? The girls adore Granny Evelyn, as they call her. Yet Mrs. Jenkins might easily have shut the door all those years ago, but she hadnt.
Her girls are nine nowschoolchildren. Every summer, they head to Evelyns welcoming cottage: theres a lake, friends, and their beloved Granny. Family, close and kind.
Im off to gather more apples for the compote, Tessa says, picking up a basket and stepping into the garden.
Under the apple tree, in the shade, lies Alicethe Labrador. Who would have thought that sorry scrap of a mutt from the bins would one day be this beautiful dog?
Its all about love. Only love saves us, Tessa thinks, and offers Alice a biscuit from her handShe pauses for a moment amidst the dappled sunlight, letting the laughter from the kitchen drift out to her, bright as butterflies. The air is crisp with the scent of ripe fruit, and high above, the branches hum with bees. Tessa rests her hand against the rough bark, feeling its steady pulse beneath her palmyears of weathering storms, of growing steadfast and fruitful.
Behind her, Annie and Olivia erupt into giggles as they help Evelyn dust flour from her hands. It occurs to Tessa that, after so much uncertainty, this is what she has grown: not just survival, but a life bursting at the seams with just enoughfriendship, family, peace. She smiles, her heart swelling with a gratitude too deep for words.
The apple drops gently into her palm, heavy with promise.
She heads back to the cottage, light-footed and sure, the basket swinging at her side. And as she crosses the garden, the sounds of homereal, chosen, warmembrace her, and she knows: everything she ever needed, she already has.
