The beginning is always possible.
“Mum, have you completely lost your mind?”
Emily’s words struck Lydia like a knife between the ribs. It hurt. She kept peeling the potatoes in silence, gripping the peeler a little tighter.
“People are pointing at us! Dad—fine, he’s a man, but you?! A woman! The heart of the home! Aren’t you ashamed?”
A tear rolled down Lydia’s cheek, then another… Soon they flowed freely, but her daughter didn’t let up.
Her husband, Graham, sat on a chair, shoulders slumped, lips pouting.
“Dad’s health is in ruins—how can you?! He needs care!” Graham sniffled. “Is this how you repay him? He gave you his whole life, you raised a child together—and now what? The moment he’s ill, you’re looking elsewhere? No, love, that’s not how it’s done.”
“How *is* it done, then?” Lydia asked softly.
“What?! Are you mocking me?! Dad, can you hear this? She’s mocking us!”
“Emily, you talk as if I’m your worst enemy, not your mother… Oh, how you worry for your father!”
“Mum! What nonsense is this?! That’s it—I’m calling Gran, she’ll talk to you! This is disgraceful!”
“Can you imagine,” Emily scoffed, turning to her father, “I’m coming home from uni, and there they are—strolling down the lane, arm in arm! Reading her poetry, no doubt—something he wrote himself, eh, Mum? About love, I bet?”
“You’re cruel, Emily. Cruel and foolish. Too young to understand…”
“Not a shred of regret! Right, I’m calling Gran—she’ll sort you out!”
Lydia straightened up, smoothed the wrinkles in her dress, brushed off invisible dust. She stood.
“Alright, my dears. I’m leaving.”
“Where to, Lydia?”
“I’m leaving you, Graham.”
“Leaving?! Where?! What about me?!”
Emily was shrieking something furious into the phone.
“Em—ily!” Graham wailed, as if mourning the dead. “Emily!”
“What, Dad?! Your back again?! Where?!”
“Oh… oh… Em… she… your mum… she said she’s leaving!”
“Leaving?! Where?! Mum, what madness is this?”
Lydia smirked, carefully packing her suitcase.
She’d meant to leave before, but then Graham fell ill—his sciatica flared up. The groaning, the whining…
“Lyd… I think it’s a slipped disc…”
“The MRI showed nothing.”
“What do those doctors know?! They never tell you straight away!”
“Really? Why not?”
“To squeeze more money out of you! Same thing happened to Geoff at work—creams, pills, then—bam! A slipped disc! And a rare one at that, no name for it!”
She hadn’t left then. She couldn’t abandon the “poor soul.”
But now…
“How many years do you have left, Lyd?” her friend Margaret had said. “You’re slaving away for them like a convict. What’s Graham ever given you? *Nothing*!” She smacked the table.
“Spent his prime years gallivanting! Like a tomcat! That hairdresser—what was her name—”
“Millie.”
“Yes! Dragged her around like a prize cow! And you—two jobs, still scraping by, while he lounged on the sofa!”
“Margaret, you sound like you *hate* Graham…” Lydia had ventured timidly.
“I’ll say it.”
Lydia braced herself.
“I’ve no reason to love your ‘darling.’ Remember when he tried it on with me? His birthday at the cottage—I’d had too much, passed out… Woke up to his hand over my mouth, the other up my blouse.”
The worst part? His mother was in the next bed—*watching*. Later, she’d hissed, “Your fault, tempting my Graham.” Threatened to tell Emily I’d thrown myself at him if I spoke up.
So.
Lydia had sat in silence.
How had she never seen it before?
She remembered other wives boasting of holidays, gifts… And her? A vacuum cleaner. A steamer, because Graham liked dumplings. Cheap perfume his mother kept in the display cabinet.
Margaret was right. She’d slept through her life.
“Why *did* you marry him?”
“Pity… He seemed so lost. Big glasses, hopeless at everything… His mother said, ‘If he’s willing, take him—don’t shame us.'”
They’d cried, laughed, remembered.
“If I hadn’t pushed you away back then—”
“They convinced me married women don’t need friends.”
Lydia glanced around the room.
Leaving was terrifying—but possible. A rented flat. A divorce. Splitting assets… She’d earned it all herself.
Emily would side with her father? So be it.
She wasn’t leaving for another man. She and Peter were just friends.
She longed for silence.
***
Oh, how the relatives tore into her!
“Go back to your husband! Beg forgiveness!” her mother screeched.
Her mother-in-law feigned a dramatic “heart attack,” but Lydia stepped over her and walked out.
And then…
Emily came to apologise.
They’re learning to rebuild their bond.
Graham? Within a month, he was strolling arm in arm with Millie. His back pain vanished.
Word is, Millie doesn’t tolerate nonsense…
But Lydia doesn’t care.
She’s learning to live.
Emily booked her a spa day.
Peter invited her hiking—like old times.
It’s never too late to start fresh.
Hard at first, then… smooth sailing.
