Even thirty years of marriage is no reason to tolerate betrayal.
Margaret turned the small jewellery box in her handsa touch faded, the gold lettering worn away. Inside, three delicate stones sparkled quietly. Beautiful, she had to admit.
Five hundred pounds, said David, flicking through news on his tablet. Got it at Goldsmiths, used my loyalty card.
Thank you, darling.
Something tightened in my chest. Not because of the pricewhat could I complain about at our age? But there was something in the way he spoke. So casual. As if he were telling me about buying a pint of milk.
Thirty years together. A pearl weddinghardly common these days. Id woken up early, laid out the embroidered white tablecloth with lace trimmy mother-in-laws wedding gift. I baked a vanilla sponge cake, the one David once called a piece of heaven.
Now, he sat glued to his screen, responding to my questions with a distracted grunt.
David, do you remember how you promised to take me to Rome for our thirtieth anniversary?
Mmm, he replied, eyes still fixed on the tablet.
Perhaps we could go to Cornwall then? We havent had a proper holiday together in ages.
Margaret, Ive got a deadline at work. Cant right now.
It was always somethingespecially in the last eighteen months, since David had suddenly caught a fever for youth. He joined a fancy gym, bought overpriced trainers, changed his wardrobe. Even his haircut was trendyswept fringe, shaved sides.
Midlife crisis, my friend Sophie would say. It happens to all men. Itll pass.
It didnt pass. It got worse.
I tried the ringit fit perfectly. At least he remembered my size after all these years. The stones glinted with a cold light.
Its lovely, I said, turning the gift in my fingers.
Yes. Modern setting. Youthful design.
That evening, we sat almost silently at the table. The cake was soft and light as always. David ate a slice, praised it automatically. I watched him and wondered: when did my husband start to feel like a stranger?
So, who is this woman? I asked suddenly.
What woman? David looked up from his plate.
The one who helped pick the youthful ring.
What does she have to do with anything?
David, my voice was calm, Im not stupid. A woman chose this ring. No man describes jewellery as youthful design.
A long, uncomfortable pause.
Margaret, what nonsense is this?
Is she called Alice?
David went pale. He didnt even ask how I knew. He realised I was right.
I saw your messages by accident. A month ago, when you asked me to find the insurance companys number on your phone. Sweetheart, see you soonring a bell?
He didnt reply.
Shes twenty-eight, works in your office. Posted a photo yesterday from that restaurant by the windowyou were sitting at that exact table. I recognised the cloth.
How do you know about the restaurant?
Sophie saw you. By chance. Do you really think people around town wont notice?
David sighed heavily.
Fine. Yes, theres Alice. But its not what you think.
Then what?
She gets me. Conversation is easy, interesting. We talk about books, films…
And with me, you have nothing to say?
Margaret, look at yourself. Its all about the kids, health, supermarket prices. With Alice, I feel alive.
Alive, I repeated. I see.
I wasnt trying to hurt you.
David hung his head.
Does she know youre married?
She does.
And shes fine with that? Okay with seeing a married man?
Margaret, shes a modern woman. She has no illusions.
Modern, I scoffed. And these thirty yearswere they just an illusion?
I got up, started tidying. My hands trembled, but I tried not to show it.
Margaret, lets talk properly.
Whats left to say? Youve already made your choice.
I havent chosen anyone!
You have. Every day. When you come home late, when you lie about business trips, when you buy her gifts with my money.
Our money!
Mine too. I work, remember?
I washed the dishes, put them on the rack. Folded the tablecloth and tucked it away. Business as usual, except my hands kept shaking.
What do you want, Margaret? David asked, standing in the doorway.
I want to be alone. Tonight. To think.
And tomorrow?
I dont know.
For two days, I barely spoke. David tried to start conversations, but all he got was polite one-word replies. On the third day, he snapped.
How long is this going to go on?
What are you unhappy about? I asked, ironing his shirt. Im still cooking, cleaning, washing. Just like always.
But you wont speak to me!
Why bother? You have Alice for that.
Margaret!
What? You said I was boring, with nothing to talk about. Why force it?
He left for the eveningclaimed he was going to see friends. I knew betterhe went to her.
I sat at the computer and looked up Alice on social media. Pretty, young. Photos at fancy resorts, fashionable outfits, clinking glasses of champagne.
Yesterdays post: Life is wonderful when someone truly values you. With hashtagslove, happiness, matureman.
Mature man. I laughed. Labelled like some commodity.
Her friends commented: Alice, whens the wedding?, Youre lucky!, What about his wife though?
Alice replied, Their marriage is just for show. Theyre more like flatmates.
Thirty yearsas flatmates.
The next morning, I made an appointment with a solicitor. Young fellow with glasses listened intently as I told my story.
Understood. Joint assets get split fifty-fiftyhouse, cottage, car. If we prove adultery, you could claim a larger share.
I dont need more, I said. Just whats fair.
At home, I wrote out a list:
Housesell and divide equally.
Cottagehe can keep it. Ive no intention of going there again.
Carmine. He can buy himself a new one.
Bank accountssplit.
David came home late, saw the list on the table.
Whats this?
Divorce.
Youve lost your mind.
No. Ive finally found it.
Margaret, I explained! Its just infatuation. It will pass!
And if it doesnt? Should I wait another thirty years for you to grow out of it?
David slumped onto the sofa, buried his face in his hands.
I never meant to hurt you.
But you did.
What am I supposed to do now?
Choose, I said. Your family or Alice. There isnt a third option.
We lived as flatmatesfor realover the next three months. David moved to the spare room. We spoke only as necessary. I signed up for English classes, swimming lessons, and started reading novels Id never had time for.
Alice rang now and then, crying on the phone. David would step out on the balcony, whispering to her for ages.
One night, he came home early and sat across from me.
Ive ended it with her.
What difference does that make to me?
Margaret, I realise… Ive been a fool. Made a dreadful mistake.
I agree.
Can we give it another go? Ive changed.
I put down my book.
David, you havent let her go because you finally appreciate me, but because you got bored of her. The next Alice will appear in a year or two.
She wont.
She will. Because its not me youre losingits your youth. And theres nothing I can do about that.
Margaret
The divorce papers are ready. Sign them.
He didno fights, no wrangling over assets. I took only what Id listed from the start.
Six months down the line, I met Richarda widower, my age, who taught English. We met at my classes. He invited me to the theatre.
You know, Margaret, he said over coffee after the show, I enjoy our conversations. Youre a fascinating person.
Really? My ex-husband thought I was dull.
Then he never knew how to listen.
Richard listened. Appreciated my opinions, laughed at my jokes, talked about himselfwithout pretending to be young.
What draws you to women? I asked once.
Intelligence. Kindness. Honesty. What about you and men?
Truthfulness. And no shame in their age.
We laughed.
David still phones occasionally. Wishes me well on holidays, checks Im healthy. Like old acquaintances.
Are you happy? he asked one time.
Yes, I answered easily. And you?
I dont know. Probably not.
Well, we each make our own choices.
I still keep the five-hundred-pound ring. Never wear itit sits in a box. A reminder of how quickly thirty years can be dismissed.
Richard gave me an antique brooch for my birthdayfound at a local market, inexpensive but chosen with care.
Beauty isnt about cost, he said. Its all in how its given.
I realisedlife doesnt end after fifty. It simply begins anew.
If youre wondering, yes, it is possible to start afresh in your mature years. I learnt that happiness doesnt depend on the past, but on the courage to take a new step.
