We meet the wrong people, we marry the wrong ones
Life’s journey isn’t easy, and you can’t outrun your fate. Each of us has our own path, our own version of the truth. I grew up in a house ruled entirely by women. “Ruled” might be too strong a wordreally, it was just a simple cottage with a vegetable patch, a woodpile, water drawn from an old stone well, chickens and a cow, and a never-ending list of chores.
Grandma Frances lived by herself in our village for many years after she was widowed at a relatively young age. Her daughter, my mum, Margaret, ended up on her own as wellher husband left when I was two. So, it truly was a home for women only. From early on, I, Emily, was gathering eggs, hauling water, and learning those plain village recipes handed down through the family.
Frances had passed her fiftieth birthday long ago, but one evening, she came home from the farm utterly spent and sighed, Maggie, love, Im so tired of all this
Mum perked up, and I, her granddaughter, wasnt far behind.
Whats wrong, Mum? she asked.
“Oh, its all become too much: shovelling manure, never having a day off. Don’t we deserve something more? A better life, perhaps?” Grandma said, resting her strong, work-worn hands on her knees.
What do you suggest, Mum?
“Lets go, lets sell this place and move to the city. Ive managed to squirrel away a bit of money over the years, and we can get ourselves a flat. A new start.”
Oh, Grandma! I want to go to the city so much! I squealed, jumping for joy.
And so, thats what we did. Frances elder brother, Robert, lived in Birmingham, and he put us up to start with.
You can have the spare room for now, Roberts wife bustled around us, and once you find your own place, you can move in.
The family treated us kindly, even with all the fuss of extra people in the house. Mum set out looking for a place, and Robert even lent a hand. Eventually, we found a flat and settled in.
We should really fix this place up, Frances mused, but what with paying for the flat, all the moneys gone. Oh wellgive it time.
Yes, Mum, youre right, Mum nodded. Anyway, Ive landed a job at the bakery down the road, starting tomorrow. Emily needs enrolling at the local school. Shell begin soon; summer holidays end in a month and a half. Theres a school nearbyIll pass it each day on my way to work.
Dont worry, love; Emily and I will go register her. Youve got your hands full with work now, Frances assured her.
So, I got placed in Year Six at a school within walking distance. I was thrilled about it, and assured my gran, I promiseIll do my best at a city school.
When Mum returned after her first day, Gran had news for her.
Theyve offered me a job as a cleaner at Emilys school. I might as well work as long as Ive got the strengththe money will help.
Oh, Mum, you should really take it easy and just enjoy your pension.
“No, Maggie, I feel better keeping busy. Besides, Ill be able to keep an eye on Emily at school. Shes new, after all
The months rolled by. Gran worked as a cleaner, and though it was tiring, she didnt mind. Mum kept slogging away at the bakery, and I did well enough in my classes.
By the time I finished Year 8, I decided not to go back to school. I knew I had to help Mum and Gran keep things afloat. Walking past a cafe, I saw a kitchen assistant wanted sign and walked straight in. I got the job immediately.
I worked hard: scrubbing dishes, peeling potatoes, helping the cook when she popped out to run an errand, making sure nothing burned. I got on well with the other girls, and we started going dancing together at the local club.
Mum, Im off out to the club, Id call. Ill be back later.
Be sensible, Emily, Gran would warn. Watch yourself with the ladsthey arent always what they seem. Use your head.
Oh, Gran, dont worry. I know what Im doing.
Thats where I met Tom. He asked me to dance, and we didnt leave each others side the rest of the night.
Ill walk you home, Emily, he said confidently, and I couldnt say no.
We started seeing each other. But one evening, Tom said, Emily, Im going into the Army. Will you wait for me? Ill write, and you can write back.
Of course Ill wait, I promised.
I saw Tom off and wrote back faithfully to every letter. He promised hed come back after a years leave, and my hopes soared. When the day finally came, it was a happy reunion.
So, Em, not married off yet? Tom asked with a smirk.
I said Id wait, didnt I?
Well, right, but his voice was flat, and he avoided my eyes, keeping his own on the ground.
Toms leave flew by and he left again. After that, his letters grew few and far between, short and perfunctory. Then they stopped altogether.
The time came for Tom to return home for good, but this time, I never heard from him. There were no mobile phones in those days, and he never showed up at the club again. I suspected he was back, but he kept out of sight.
Walking home with the girls one night, I said, What on earths happened to Tom? He should be home by now. Ive no idea where his folks live to go check.
Oh, why dont you pop round, one of the girls said sarcastically. Say hello to his wife while youre at it. You can be pretty daft sometimes, EmTom married while he was still serving. Brought his new bride home with him. Thats why you havent seen him since. Move on. Forget him.
My heart dropped. Id been too naive. I waited for him, but he hadnt waited for me.
Not too long after, I ran into Tom in the park as I was leaving work. He sat on a bench just like we used to.
Hello, Em, he said, leaping up.
But I just kept walking. He hurried after me.
Wait, Em… Im sorry. I made a stupid mistake. I think about you all the time, dream about you. I dont love her. Shes pregnant, though, so I had to do the right thing. Its you I miss.
I stopped and looked him in the eye.
And what do you expect from me? To sneak around while you live with your wife? Absolutely not, Tom. You lied. Youre not someone I can count on. Make your marriage worklook after your child. Leave me out of it. I wish you happiness, Tom. I patted his shoulder and left.
I carried on at the cafe. One day, the manager pulled me aside.
“Emily, youre a natural in the kitchen. Fancy the idea of becoming a chef? We can send you on a proper cookery course if youd like.
Oh, Id love that! I really enjoy cooking.
Dressed in my best, with a fashionable new coat, I stood nervously on the train platform, waiting to head off to London for my first course. A bunch of young lads walked by, bantering, strumming a guitarthey were there to see off a mate just back from the Army.
Suddenly a lad in uniform separated from them and hurried over.
Hi there, miss. Chat for a minute? Im James. And you?
Emily, I replied, almost without thinking.
Waiting on the same train? he asked. I nodded.
The train arrived, and James dashed off to catch up with his friends, but then, to my surprise, he found me in my carriage as we set off.
Aha, here you are! he said, happy. I searched half the train. Ive only got a little timehome on holiday from the Army. But you caught my eye from the start. Lets swap addresses and write, yeah? Where are you off to anyway?
To a chefs course. Just for a few months, I said.
We sat, chatting the whole way. He seemed trustworthy, someone who wouldnt let me down. We exchanged addresses and parted ways.
I didnt expect much. I had learned from experiencea new Army lad was just as likely to break your heart. But James seemed genuine, good-humoured, and made no grand promises. Writing letters didnt bother me anyway.
As Gran Frances used to say, We meet the wrong chaps, marry the wrong ones. I had little hope James would turn out to be the right man.
But almost a year of letters passed, and James returned from the Armyand came straight to see me. It just so happened I had the day off, and we were both thrilled to meet. I realised I could count on himhe hadnt let me down.
Time moved on. I married James. I worked as a chef in town, and he worked at the local factory. I had a passion for keeping things orderly and brighteverything in its place, laundry done, shirts ironed, meals ready. Our two beautiful twin boys toddled around, scrubbed clean and smiling.
My only headache was James habit of leaving things everywhere. Socks on the stairs, tools in every corner. I nagged, picked up after him, argued. Then I realisedId have to try something different, maybe some warmth and patience could help.
I tried a gentler approach: praised him, coaxed him along. Gradually, James began leaving his grimy overalls in the porch, kept his tools out in the shed, even took to sweeping the yard and tidying the garage himself. It made me quietly happy.
In the end, despite my grandmothers words, I did meet the right man and marry him.
We shared many good years, but one day James didnt come home from workhis heart gave out, no warning at all. I grieved for him deeply.
Now I find myself alone, as did Grandma Frances and my mum, Margaret. The children and grandchildren visit often, but no one escapes their fate in the end.
Looking back, Ive learned this: you cant control who you meet, or what life throws at youbut its up to you to notice when someone finally stays, and choose to make the best of it.
