Andrew hardly recognises his wife anymore. He cant understand whats happening to her. Fiona always used to keep the house spotless, cooked, ironed but now, shes stopped doing it all. Gently, Andrew asks whats going on. Fiona simply replies, Ive spent years running around after you all cant I have a little rest?
Andrew immediately suspects Fiona might be seeing someone else. He decides to check her things. Then, suddenly, in Fionas handbag, he notices a strange letter.
He barely recognises Fiona these days. Seventeen years of marriage, and shes always been warm and understanding, never any drama or secrets, which was exactly why hed married her. She cooked porridge or an omelette for breakfast, came home from her job and went straight to making dinner. Every Sunday shed iron exactly fifteen shirts one per day for him and their two sons. Admittedly, the boys made do with two or three, as they never quite matched Andrews standards for neatness.
But now, for the second week in a row, breakfast is only toast or cereal. Worse, Fiona suggests they make it themselves. As for dinner, at best, Andrew and the boys find leftovers from the day before, or theres just a note: Back after nine, stick some pasta on.
At first, Andrew had put all this down to a conference at Fionas college, but the conference is over and life just hasnt gone back to normal.
He tries to ask gently whats up. To which Fiona says, with a sigh, Cant I have a life of my own? Ive waited on you all for years surely I deserve a little break!
Of course, absolutely, Andrew replies.
He wants to ask how long this little break will last, but he bites his tongue. Time goes by, but Fiona keeps disappearing off to the cinema, the theatre, art exhibitions. Hes especially rattled by the saucy new dresses appearing in her wardrobe, and that instead of prepping breakfast, shes busy putting on mascara and lipstick. Dark suspicions niggle at Andrew could Fiona have someone else?
He feels a bit ashamed for even thinking it, but the worry gnaws at him so much he starts snooping checking her phone, bank statements, even her handbag. And there, in a little inner pocket of her bag, he finds a battered, faded letter, clearly treasured and reread. Its obviously a love letter, written in a tone that only someone very close could use. Fiona, I miss you so much, I cant find the words to say how hard it is waiting to see you again. I hear your voice everywhere, I look for your smile but never find it
Reading this makes him feel sick. Judging by its battered state, this affair has been going on a long time, which makes it far worse perhaps he could have forgiven a brief office fling, but this Was their whole marriage just a sham?
He stays silent for three days, drowning in heavy thoughts all the temptations hes resisted, all the times he could have been unfaithful but wasnt On the third day, he breaks.
I know everything, he says flatly.
What do you mean? Fiona asks, surprised.
Her tone is calm, just a little thrown. But Andrew is sure hes read the letter. Theres no mistake.
Youre seeing someone else, he accuses.
Fiona laughs. Dont be ridiculous, Andrew. You cant be serious.
If shed confessed or even cried, maybe it would have been easier, but this
I read his letter! Andrew blurts. Who do you take me for? Nobody writes words like I cant wait until were together again, our souls destined to walk together until the end of time unless they mean it. He swears under his breath.
Fiona bursts out laughing, which only annoys him more.
Are you being serious? she asks, eyebrow raised.
Are you? he shoots back, scowling and breathing hard.
So you were poking around in my bag?
Yes.
And you read the letter?
Yes.
And you dont remember that you wrote it yourself?
What?! Andrew is stunned.
Thats your handwriting, Andrew. You wrote that letter to me, when you were on a work trip and I was at home with Charlie. Dont you remember?
You must be joking! Id know my own handwriting. I would never write things like that!
Fiona sighs, fetches a box from the top shelf, sets it on the bed, rummages, then pulls out an envelope and hands it over.
Look. Youd hurt your right hand, so you wrote it left-handed.
Andrew checks the envelope its got his name, his writing, and the address from when he was working in Manchester. He vaguely remembers the accident on site. Could it be?
Why are you carrying this letter around with you? he asks gloomily.
A therapist suggested it, says Fiona matter-of-factly.
A therapist?
Yes, Andrew. Im tired. All my life Ive been running after you three, and since Charlie was born, Ive had no life of my own. I dont even hear a thank you! You only get me flowers on Mothers Day, and I cant remember the last time you told me you loved me. And Im not that old I am still a woman. Honestly, I even thought about divorce. But our family is good, and I value it. So I went to a professional. She gives me advice, and I follow it.
Andrew is taken aback by this. Divorce? She wants to leave him?
Are the suggestions helping? he asks.
Sometimes, she says with a smile.
And the letters?
To remind me of our love.
Andrew nods. He needs to think. He gets up and steps out onto the balcony. They dont bring it up again.
***
Next morning, Fiona gets up to an unusually busy house, the smell of vanilla lingering in the air. She doesnt know whats going on until she steps into the kitchen.
Her eldest son is at the cooker making omelettes, the younger one dishing out pancakes. On the table stands a vase with her favourite flowers.
Whats all this? she asks in surprise.
Good morning, Mum, the youngest grins. Tea or coffee?
Fiona can hardly believe her eyes or ears.
Coffee she replies.
Omelette or pancakes?
Pancakes
Theres no sign of Andrew, but she knows hes behind all this. As soon as she takes her first bite, Andrew appears, holding out a folded piece of paper.
Morning, love.
Whats this? she asks.
A new letter, Andrew says, smiling. Just in case it helps.
Fiona smiles back, and from that moment on, things get better. Not every morning brings such a breakfast lets be honest, miracles dont happen every day but sometimes they do. And now, when Fiona goes to the cinema, Andrews happy to join her. Their marriage, at last, has been saved.
