Lydia is a bad woman.
Very bad, reallyyoud almost pity her, shes so very bad.
Everyone tries to make sure she knows it: Lydia is trouble.
Bad, and to make it worse, unlucky.
No husband, of course, her sons grown up and living his own life.
Lydias on her own, not needed by anyone.
She turns up at work on Monday; everyone is swapping weekend stories about cleaning the house, scrubbing the patio, and being altogether wonderful.
One spent her time digging the garden, another boiling up homemade jam.
Lydia sits quietly, what is there for her to report? Nothing. No husband to fuss over, no young child demanding her attention. So she just sits there, silent as a mouse.
She asks to leave work early today, a little earlier than usual, and everyone knows she slips away a couple times a month.
They shake their heads with thinly veiled judgement. Theyre sureabsolutely certainLydias off to meet her string of secret lovers.
Everyone at work is convinced Lydia must be seeing a horde of men. I mean, what else could such a bad woman be getting up to?
Shes bad, no doubt.
The other ladiestheyre good women. All proper, all either married or busy keeping homes ticking over. But Lydia, shes just not like them.
Lydia, her mother says, why cant you be more like everyone else?
How do you mean, Mum?
You know, settled. Why dont you try and find yourself a man, honestly, darling. Its not too late. You could even have another child, plenty have babies in their forties nowadays.
Mum, why would I want just any man? Why do I need another child with someone random? Ive got Maxhes more than enough. And as for a blokewhat would I even do with him? Besides, Ive got Oliver.
Lydia! her mother gasps, shocked. Lydia, come to your senses! Oliver isnt your man!
Says who, Mum? Hes perfectly lovelytakes me out once a week, gives me nice presents, helps sort holidays, doesnt wind me up, doesnt send me off to clean his own mums windows, doesnt make me wash his socks and pants, never demands dinner on the table, doesnt dump his problems on me, isnt glued to the sofa all evening.
Bliss.
Yes, blissall that falls to poor Olivers wife.
And would you honestly want it all dumped on me instead? No, thank you! Im just over forty, Mum, Ive been marriedtwice, just in case you forgotand both times, I couldnt get out quickly enough.
My first husband, Maxs dad, do you remember? You practically forced me into that, said I should snatch him up the moment I turned eighteen. Because he was older, so more mature, more serious, loved me, respected me, established, didnt you say?
I spent five years cooped up at home. No studying, no time with my friends, barely allowed to spend time with Maxwhat did I know, right? I was young, always doing something wrong. I was basically the unpaid housekeeper for him and his mum.
At least I was draped in gold, right?
Hed take me out just once a month, like a show pony, just to prove he had a young, sensible, model wifenot like those other dolled-up girls everyone else had.
Not that hed say no to those dollsno, he had his fun.
And when I finally left him, divorced thanks to my gran helping me, he wanted it all backincluding the knickers.
Second time, I married for love. I was studying and working all hours then, remember, Mum?
Id study all day and work all night just so you and Dad wouldnt think I was freeloading…
Lydia! Dont you dare! I never begrudged you a crust or a bowl of soupnot to you or your boy.
Not you, Mum… But it wasnt just you I had to worry about, was it? There was Dad, scared Id become his problem and set up shop with Max in tow.
You were working two jobs and stretched thin, dashing into the shop on your way home, looking after your grown boysone slouched on the sofa, one glued to a computer…
Cooking, cleaning, washingdoing everything.
So, for lovewell, in haste, anywayI rushed into a second marriage. No love, just not wanting to be alone.
Did it change anything?
Not much. More worry, if anything. Lydiawith another surname, now forever keeping things going for everyone.
My darling on the sofa, me at work, then picking up Max from nursery, my own childheaven forbid I burden a man with a child, thats not his place, even if he were his ownafter all, men get tired, dont they?
Dash to the shops, lug the kid and the groceries home, because of course I had no carhe needed it more, didnt he? What, is he going to ride the bus to work? All women do this, whats exhaustion? And as for dinner, whos going to make that?
So I did, cooked, fed everyone, washed up, did the laundry, ironing, then God forbid I forget to treat my husbandcant let him go without his ration of warmth and affection, or else hell find it elsewhere.
Oh, theres not enough money? Well, thats your childnot mine. If only youd had my own child, my flesh and blood, an heir, maybe Id care. Otherwise, off you gofind some mug to look after you and your spawn. Not my problem.
Sorry, loveyouve picked on the wrong one.
What do you mean you wont chip in for the car repairs? Doesnt matter if its minearent we a family?
Lets have a look at what you earn compared, just sitting around, and what I make…
Youre just lucky, arent you?
Sorryleaving? Oh, do go on, whod want you anyway, single mum and all. Hah.
So thats how I tried marriage, Mumbeen with a man who earned more, and one who brought in less. It made no difference.
Everyone else was happy. Only, funny enough, I was the one who wasnt.
Lydia, everyone lives like this, darling.
Well, let them. But not menot anymore.
How was your Saturday?
Oh, you know. Edward and Sarah dropped off their two, Olivia and Ben, for me and your dad to look after. I took them out to the park, made pancakes, did a bit of dusting, hoovered, mopped the floor, did some laundry, put the kids to bed, fed your dad, did some ironing, and finally got to bed after midnight.
Kids woke me up at dawn, asked for more pancakes, not much choice really. Then Edward and Sarah came back for the kids; I roasted a chicken, made salads, baked pizzas, served up tea. Cleaned up a bit, and by eleven I was asleep on the sofa, Dad woke me up in the night to get to bed…
Funny, Mum, I cant recall you ever looking after Max like that. I cant recall ever dumping my child on you and running for a break, eyes wide with freedom?
Lydia, you were always independent, but these twogood grief…
Want to hear how I spent last weekend, Mum? Friday night Max called, asked if Id look after Timmy for the weekend so they could sneak away to the Lake District.
Of course I did, why wouldnt I?
Timmy is Marinas cat, Maxs girlfriendyes, Mum, if you werent so busy minding Edward and his crew, you might know what your eldest is up to nowadays.
So, they dropped the cat and a takeaway pizza and off they went.
I spent the whole evening watching boxsets and eating pizza. No one drags me out of bed at dawn for pancakes.
Saturday morning, I fed Timmy, brewed a coffee, dusted around, threw a wash on and rang you, wanted to see if you fancied a museum trip or a coffee.
Dad answered, said you had your hands in the washing up, didnt have time.
He called me a layabout, said you bust a gut every weekend running around after my nephews, while I float about museums like Lady Muck.
I was going to be offended, but whats the point? Dads always right.
Anyway, I went to see that exhibition you loveyour favourite artist, remember? You used to like them, once.
Sat at a café, wandered round the shops, fed the cat when I got homehe was still asleep.
Then, I just flopped on the sofa with Timmy and watched TV.
Sunday, we slept in till nearly noon, was going to ask you on a river cruise when Sarah answered the phone, mouthful of cake, said you were busybet you were clearing up lunch or washing the table.
Oliver rang me that evening and asked me out to dinner, so I wentwhy should I say no?
Im a free woman, dont ask him about his wife or any of that, we dont talk about it. He doesnt dump his problems on me, I dont dump mine on him.
Had a wonderful night and went to bed refreshed, ready for Monday.
I have tried dating single men, Mum.
Its a nightmare.
You get boys looking for a mother figure, or the unlucky onesdivorced once, twice, even thrice, kids everywhere.
Why are you looking at me like that? Times have changed, Mum.
One told me flat out that it was my duty to love his children because youre a womanof course you love children, all children. Hed pay his ex and the kids maintenance, because shes the mother of his children and he owed her that, but wed have to live on my salary, as what was left of his would fund fishing trips for his hobby.
In return, hed feed me fish.
I asked if hed help Maxhe was shocked, of course not, Max has a dad, let him help him.
Fair? Sure. Thats why I said cheerioMax has his dad and, more importantly, me.
So yes, Ive become badmean, tight, calculating, crafty. Apparently I wanted to palm off my child on some poor man and live the easy life.
So, Mum, thats why I have Oliver now.
Bad in all their eyes, but honest to God, Im not ashamed to live like this.
The only thing that makes me sad is seeing how you live. Thats why I do my best to pull you outside, just for a little while, like today, for example, when I told you and Dad I needed help.
Mum, Im alright, really. Now come on, were going to do something for ourselves, spend proper time togetherjust you and me.
Youve lost your mind, Lydia. What about your father?
What about him? Is he ill?
No, but lunch, you know
I bet youve already made lunch, though, haven’t you?
Well, yes, but youll need to warm it up and Edward…
Mum! Dont make me beg… I know you think Im bad, but cant I be good for a day? Come on, just relax for once… Im asking you.
Back at work on Monday, the women swap tales about how exhausting their weekends of rest were.
But Lydia just gives a sly grin. Everybody knows Lydia is badas she sashays to her desk with a smile, secretly pleased by something nobody else could ever guess.
And of course, everyone knows whats on Lydias mindsomething scandalous, obviously.
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