Youll never manage without me! You cant do anything! her husband shouts, hurriedly folding his shirts into an oversized suitcase.
But she does manage. She copes. Perhaps if shed given herself time to imagine how she would survive with two children, she might have conjured up endless terrors, and maybeeven, who knowsshed have forgiven the affair. But theres no time. The girls need taking to nursery, she has to dash to work. Her husband only strolled in half an hour ago, brimming with the confidence of new love, utterly self-assured.
So, pulling on her coat, Tanya briskly delegates:
Holly, help Sophie do up her coat, and make sure she has some lunch at nursery. The staff say she keeps turning down her porridge.
And you, Ben, make sure to take everything that belongs to youno dragging it out. Drop the flat key in the post box, will you? Goodbye.
Holly came into the world a neat half hour before Sophie and holds the title of big sister. Theyre both four now. Independent little souls, each fierce with her own stubborn streak. Holly will eat the hated semolina simply because its expected, but Sophie will tangle in debate: There are lumpsIm not eating it!
Fortunately, their nursery is just round the cornera ten-minute walk at most. Along the way, their chatter dampens the looming worries of the future. At work, theres also no spare moment for broodingher day is booked out, patient after patient. Then there are home visits too. Only in the evening, when Tanya comes home to the empty hallwaybare hangers where his coat should bedoes it truly hit her. From now on, shes on her own. But moping isnt her style. Everything must carry on as normal, if not better. In any situation, you can either buckle and drown in self-pity or think things through calmly, try to find solutions, and even sniff out a bit of positivity. For now, making dinner is a good start.
Whats actually changed for us, girls? Tanya ponders, chopping vegetables for the salad. Hes gone. What did he really do, anyway? What do I have to take on? Nothing I cant handle. Ill have to tweak our schedule, thats all. Im alright. Well be alright. In fact, things will be better. Id rather be alone than constantly wonder where he isout with her again? Harder, yes, but so much more peaceful.
After reading a chapter from The Adventures of Pinocchiothe English editionand tucking the girls in, Tanya hurries to the bathroom. The washing machine is done; time to hang the laundry.
Before bed, she brews a cup of her favourite lemon balm tea, letting her thoughts settle, and maps out tomorrow. The twins are as alike as two peas in a poda handful, sure, but Tanya never lets herself believe its unmanageable. She laughs when people offer sympathy.
Were fine, she replies, no ones run off their feet. I manage.
The kettle whistles. Tanya pours her tea, flicks on a cosy lamp. Outside, sleet pelts the windowrain mixed with snowbut inside its warm, quiet, except for the gentle tick-tock from the kitchen clock
The doorbell rings. Tanya blinks in surprise to find her neighbour at the threshold, an older woman shes never much warmed to. Mrs Jenkins, alone except for that miserable terrier she walks every morning, always greets Tanya with a stiff nod and a thin-lipped frown. Tanyas spotted the doga scraggly thinglurking near the bins more than once, famine-eyed, tracking rubbish bags with mournful hope. Presumably, it was Mrs Jenkins who felt sorry and took her in. No one visits Mrs Jenkins. She shops, walks the dog, and thats that.
Sorry to trouble you, dear, Mrs Jenkins says, wrapped up in a thick shawl, but I saw your husband loading things into his car this morning. Did he leave you?
Thats really none of your business, says Tanya, a bit sharply.
Your husbands not my business, no. I just wanted to sayhere Mrs Jenkins hesitatesif you ever need help, you can call on me. Watching the girls, anything at all.
Come in, please, Tanya offers, softening, And whats your name? she asks, pouring tea into two cups and setting out a basket of biscuits. Help yourself.
Im Edith Jenkins. And youre TanyaI know that. If you ever need anything at all, Tanya, Mrs Jenkins says, breaking off a biscuit, Im here. No charge, honestly. Just because Id like to.
Mrs Jenkins sips her tea, nods, and adds, Lovelylemon balm, isnt it? I grow all sorts in my garden, and lemon balms one of them. Do come in summer, the apples are delicious.
Tanya watches her, wondering why shed always found the woman disagreeable. Was it just that Mrs Jenkins never put on fake smiles, never pried into how she coped with twins, nor pressed into Tanyas private life? She just passed quietly by, never pitying or interfering. Tanya had mistaken her reserve for pride. Here Mrs Jenkins doesnt even ask about her husbandspares her the wound. She simply offers help, unconditionally.
Looking at Mrs Jenkins with a new perspective, Tanya notices her neatnesssmart new slippers, hair bundled tidy, dress adorned with a lace collar. Theres even a faint, pleasant trace of perfume.
Mrs Jenkins tells stories about her cottage, the apples, her tiny but inviting sauna, and the ducks that live on the lake all summer long. Tanya feels her worries ebb, warmth spreading within.
Tanya remembers it all clearly, though its five years gone now. She remembers her husband shouting, Youll break! You cant manage! But all thats in the past.
Edith Jenkins slices apples with deft hands, laying them over bright pastry and sliding the tray into the hot oven. Salads are ready, the casserole simmers on the hob. Today is Tanyas beloved neighbours birthday. Its August, and doors and windows of the cheerful cottage thrown wide. The kitchen fills with the aroma of apple pie.
How she helped me Tanya thinks, watching the old lady flushed from the ovens heat. What would I have done without her? The girls adore Granny Edith, and she might never have let Tanya in that first night. Now the twins are nineschoolgirls. Every summer, they spend here, by the lake, with friends and their beloved granny. Family, truly close, deeply kind.
Ill pop out to pick a few more applesmight boil up a compote, says Tanya, heading outside with a basket.
Under the apple tree, in the cool shade, lies Albie the Labrador. Whod have believed that scrawny, sorry little mongrel Mrs Jenkins took in from the skip would blossom into such a beautiful, gentle girl?
Its all love. Only love saves us, thinks Tanya, offering Albie a biscuit from her palm.
