“Weve spent forty years under the same roof, and at sixty-three you suddenly decide to reinvent yourself?”
Margaret sat curled up in her favourite armchair, looking out at the drizzle and battling memories of the day. Only hours earlier, shed been bustling about, sorting out supper and waiting for Harold to come home from his fishing trip. He returned not with a catch, but with news he’d apparently been sitting on for ages.
I think we should get a divorce, and I hope youll understand, Harold said, eyes fixed stubbornly on the carpet. The girls are grown and old enough to make sense of it, the grandchildren are frankly more interested in TikTok than our drama, and we can part ways quietlyno need for shouting.
Forty years, Harold! And at sixty-three you want to change things up? Are you having a late-life crisis? asked Margaret, baffled. You owe me an explanation, at least.
Youll stay in the flat in Sheffield, Ill move to the cottage near York, Harold said, looking suspiciously as if he’d rehearsed this. Theres nothing to split, and anyway, the girls will inherit it all sooner or later.
Whats her name? Margaret asked, resigned.
Harold went the shade of a beetroot, suddenly busy picking up odd socks and pretending he hadnt heard. It was obvious there was another woman; Margaret had never faced such a scenario in her youth and certainly hadnt expected to be left for another, now of all times.
It might still turn out alright, Mum, soothed their daughters, Victoria and Alice. Try not to take Dads behaviour to heart.
It wont, darling, Margaret sighed. But theres no point changing anything. Ill just carry on, and cheer for your happiness.
Victoria and Alice went to the cottage for a heart-to-heart with Harold. On return, they were gloomier than a sodden biscuit, and reluctant to spill the beans. Instead, their advice shifted: they began championing the joys of solo living, saying there was no need to look after anyone else. Margaret understood perfectly, but chose not to pry. It wasnt easy, since every Auntie Brenda and Cousin Graham in the Midlands hid their curiosity poorly.
Well I never, forty years together and in his twilight he legs it for another woman! remarked an indiscreet neighbour. Is she younger, or just richer?
Margaret hadnt a clue what to say but became increasingly curious herself. She decided to drop by Harolds cottage under the guise of retrieving her summer chutney jars. She didnt tell him she was coming, hoping to clash with his new flameand indeed, she did.
Harold, you didnt tell me your ex would be showing up, did you? snapped the new lady, boasting enough makeup to stock a Boots counter. Thought youd sorted everything. She shouldnt be here.
You gave me up for this? Margaret asked, surveying her rival who radiated audacity.
Are you going to let this woman insult me, Harold? screeched the extravagant dame. Im barely a few years younger than you two, and look far better.
If she honestly thinks at our age that garish makeup is the thing, I pity her, Margaret said, trying to catch Harolds awkward glance.
Margaret trudged to the bus stop, enduring yells from her ageing Barbie lookalike nemesis, fighting back tears that she finally let spill at home. She rang her sister, Pauline, and asked her to visit.
Come on, enough of that, Pauline said, brewing a comforting pot of mint tea. You said Harolds new girlfriend isnt pretty and, clearly, shes not the sharpest tool in the shed.
Maybe shes right after all, and I really do look like a pensioner in my years, Margaret doubted.
You look splendid for your age! Pauline insisted. Honestly, I think its a grave error to be wearing leopard print leggings or miniskirts in your seventies. A woman can be lovely at any age, if she presents herself well and dresses sensibly.
Margaret sized herself up in the mirror, realising Pauline had a point. She was in decent shape, mostly healthy, dressed nicely, and was often gifted makeup by her daughters. Never one for tasteless bravado, Margaret couldnt imagine herself behaving like her rival.
Well, there we are, Pauline continued. Now youre a free womanlive it up. Your girls are independent, theres plenty of ways to enjoy culture and the arts at our age, so youre not allowed to mope.
True to her word, Pauline whisked Margaret off to the theatre, parks, and concerts. Soon, they’d collected a lively crew of contemporariesin fact, one gent started paying Margaret special attention, but she swiftly nipped that in the bud.
So now you’re running about with your theatre mates, found new friendsbet you’ll be married again soon! quipped Harold after a chance encounter at Sainsburys.
And what brings you all the way here for groceries, Harold? Nothing closer to the cottage, or does your new flame not cook? Margaret teased.
Ive always shopped here. Impossible to break habits at our age, Harold grumbled.
Margaret didnt pursue the conversation and hurried off home. At that moment, Harold desperately longed to chase after her and confess his regret. His whole life had been with Margaret and their girls, but then lively Brenda swept him into a whirlwind of excitement.
At first, he thought life with Brenda was thrilling. Then, it became clear she disliked chores, preferred gossiping, hobnobbing with men, and getting loud at village parties.
Nowadays, Harold often dreamt of returning home, and after seeing Margaret again, his longing intensified. She never staged scenes or arguments, but carried herself nobly through it all. Hed never have guessed how much hed miss that calm and comfort, which apparently only existed with Margaret.
Youve bought dried apricots againI said prunes, Harold! Brenda barked at his shopping selection. And the cheese is too fatty, and you forgot the mayo altogether.
Margaret used to shop, or wed do it together. You want me to do everything myself, Harold snapped.
Stop comparing me to your ex, Brenda shouted. Youll say next you regret ditching her for me!
Harold did regret it, though he knew saying so would do no good. Margaret hadnt schemed for this or manipulated anyone; she just stayed herself, and Harold secretly yearned for her forgiveness.
But he knew perfectly well that Margaret would never trust him or take him back. He considered calling her a dozen times, and after another argument, showed up at the door of his old flat for the first time.
Need to pick anything up? Margaret asked coolly, not letting him past the threshold.
I thoughtI mean, could we talk, if youve got time? Harold mumbled, catching the scent of his favourite plum tart wafting from inside.
Ive got no time, no opportunity, and no interest, she replied calmly. So grab what you need, as Im expecting guests.
Harold had nothing to collect, everything he wanted to say turned to mush. He trudged back to the cottage and set about making his own dinnerBrenda was off gallivanting again. She returned in high spirits, and Harold made his decision, giving her time to pack her belongings.
After Brendas latest tantrum, Harold nearly rang Margaret to spill everything, but soon thought better and let himself be. He knew Margaret too well to harbour silly hopes for forgiveness or for her to forget the hurt.
Perhaps, one day, he might come seeking absolution and theyd talkhe needed to do it for his own peace. He secretly hoped for her pardon, albeit not for a reunion; Margaret couldnt forgive such betrayal, and Harold knew it full well when his affair began.
So, he carried on at the cottage, Margaret thrived in her Sheffield flat, doting on daughters and grandchildren, attending plays. For her ex-husband, there was simply no place left in her new life.
