“I don’t want any other daughter-in-law, and you may do as you please!” my mother said to me.
I remember it all so clearly, as if I could feel the weight of those words even now. I was finishing my studies at Oxford, and thought it a fine time to marry my first love from grammar school, Alice! Alice was fair-haired and graceful, but more than that, she was clever and good-natured. She was working on her dissertation then, and we agreed that wed marry just as soon as her studies were complete.
I decided it was time to break the news to my mother about the wedding, but she had little joy for me. My mother told me quite stoutly that I was to marry only Anne from down the lane, or no one at all. Then she askedwas my career or my feelings more important? My mother always fancied herself as seeing my future as a man of distinction.
Anne came from a well-heeled family, and she’d harboured feelings for me for some time. I, meanwhile, could barely see anyone but Alice, though her family had fallen on hard times, and her mother was roundly gossiped about in the village… What would people think?
“I have no need for another daughter-in-law; you may do as you please!” my mother declared.
I pleaded my case with her time and again, but she was resolute. At last, she threatened to disown me if I ever made Alice my wife. In the end, I lost my nerve. I continued to see Alice for another half year, but bit by bit, the spark between us faded.
Eventually, I married Anne. She truly cared for me, though we decided against a wedding celebration; I couldn’t bear the thought of Alice seeing photographs of the day. Anne was from a prosperous family, and I moved into the grand townhouse of her parents. They helped me make strides in my career, opening doors at every step. Yet, true contentment never settled on me.
Children simply were of no interest to me. When Anne realised she would never sway me on the matter, she herself filed for divorce. By then, I was forty, and she thirty-eight. Anne remarried not long after, gave birth to a child, and finally found the happiness she deserved.
I could not cease longing for Alice, and I made every effort to find her, but to no availshe seemed to have vanished from the very face of England. Later, I learned the grim truth. An acquaintance told me that, after we parted, Alice married the first man who came along, a brute of the worst sort. He took her life in a fit of violence.
Afterwards, I returned to the old flat my parents had left behind and sought solace at the bottom of a bottle, day after day. The photograph of Alice sat always in view. No matter how many years have passed, I have never been able to forgive my mother.
