Lydia hadnt had word from Robert since he left for his seaside holiday.
Still nothing from your Robert, then? No call, not even a postcard? Vera asked as she passed, sympathy lining her voice.
Not a peep, Vera, not for the nine days or even the full six weeks, hasnt so much as sent smoke signals, Lydia replied, forcing a brittle joke as she adjusted her work apron over her middle.
Either hes on the lash or Veras voice trailed off as she shook her head, eyes sorrowful. Best keep waiting, love. The police havent come back to you neither?
No ones saying a word, not the police, not even the hospital. Like a fish with its lips sewn shut, Lydia sighed.
Thats fate for you, Vera murmured, stepping away.
Lydia found these conversations unbearable. She switched the broom to her other hand and swept up the golden leaves that littered her doorstep. Late autumn 1988 lingered, damp and cold. The path was barely clear before another layer of leaves fluttered down, but she set her jaw and swept again.
Three years shed been retiredafter years as a nurse in the NHS, earning more certificates and thank-you plaques than she could count. But last month, the pennies started running out, so shed taken a job as cleaner with the council, sweeping pavements for wages that barely kept the lights on.
Life had always been plain and ordinarynever grand, never desperate. She and Robert worked. They raised their son together. Robert never really drank, not more than a pint on a holiday, and he was respected at the factoryhard-working, upright. No chasing after other women. Shed never thought shed be left like this.
Hed headed to Bournemouth with one of those holiday vouchers to take in the sea air. Lydia hadnt been worried at first. If he didnt ring, it simply meant Robert was finally relaxing. But when he didnt return on schedule, she started calling aroundevery hospital, the police station, even the mortuary.
Shed managed to get a telegram to their son Peter, stationed at the army base, then she phoned him as soon as she could. Working together, they found out that Robert had checked out of his hotel, but hadnt boarded the train home. He was gone.
Back at the factory, they all shrugged. Our job was to hand out the holiday voucher to our star worker, which we did. What happens in private life is no business of ours. If he doesnt show up to work, well fire him for absenteeism.
Lydia wanted to hop on a train herself, but her son rang to talk her down.
Mum, what are you going to do when you get there? If Im allowed, Ill go soon as Ive got leave. Im in uniform, Ill get more answers anyway.
She tried. She really tried to keep herself busy, to keep the dark thoughts at bay. At the police station, she became a frequent face, routine rather than frantic now. She took the cleaning job partly to help her mind. Out on the street, surrounded by others, she managed to hold herself together. At home, shed cry till she had nothing left, cursing fate for sending her such a cruel trial at this age. But it was the not-knowing that crushed her most.
Robert reappeared as abruptly as hed vanished.
He stood there, beneath the grey clouds, in the same navy suit hed left in. No suitcase, no duffel, just his hands shoved deep into his trouser pockets, collar turned up against the wind, watching as Lydia swept.
She didnt even see him at first, didnt know how long hed been standing there until Peter called out.
Dad? Mumlook, Dads home…
Lydia dropped the broom, her arms flung out wide like a bird coming home, and rushed into Roberts embrace.
He took some time, but finally hugged her back.
Lets go inside then, you two, stop with the dramatics, Peter grumbled, striding toward the house. Lydia caught the irritation in his step.
Oh Peter, let me hug you too, havent seen you since spring… Lydia caught her son and squeezed him.
Alright, alright, lets get inside, its freezing, Peter muttered.
Lydia fussed as they slipped off their coats. If youd called Id have tidied up, put the kettle on, made a proper dinner…
Mum, I didnt come for cake and tea. Told you Id bring him backhere he is.
She looked from Peter to Robert, her mind heavy with the months of worry. There was so much to ask, but all she wanted now was to put food on the table, make everyone sit, drink tea, take their boots offanything normal.
Robert sat there wordless.
Mumsit down, will you? said Peter, but Lydia continued clattering plates in the kitchen.
Mum, I found Dad with another woman.
She stopped, turned to her boy, then to her husband. Robert sat small as a chastised schoolboy, hands clasped, head bowedthin and hollow-eyed.
With another woman, Robert? Whats going on?
Lydia, in all these weeks, had only imagined tragedya mugging, no cash for a train home, her husband lost and hungry somewhere along the coast.
He didnt want to come back home, Mum. He stayed in a seaside cottage with a woman called Olivia Evans. Didnt want to leave.
Lydia stared at Robert, blinking back shock.
Youdidnt want to come home?
He lifted his voice a little, brittle as glass. I realised Id been going through the motions, living a life that wasnt really mine. Wake up, go to the factory, come home. Pot about in the garden on weekends. But theres never any freedom, is there?
Oh, freedom! Lydia reddened with anger. And you, Peter, why drag him back if he didnt want to come? Was it just to humiliate me? Wouldve been kinder to say he was in the morgue. I waited here like a fool, cried my eyes dry, while he was holed up at the seaside
Lydia, II thought I wanted a new start.
No, Robert, you just let the sun go to your head down there. A real man comes home, sorts things straight, then starts again if he must. Youd have been honest with us, and with yourself. But you vanished, like a coward. I want nothing to do with you. Get out!
Robert stood, hesitated, then turned down the hallway.
No, dont come backjust go! Lydia shouted, voice splintering with pain.
Dad, just leave, Peters voice echoed down the corridor, cold and final.
Two weeks passed. Lydia swept the path, her movements automaticher mind empty, save for the watery sunlight on wet tarmac. Then she saw him: Robert, standing at the end of the row in a ratty old overcoat, a ridiculous cap perched on his head.
Lydia, he called, then louder, Lydia!
She stared, blank-eyed, as though hed broken her bones and left her in pieces. She wanted to forgive, but her limbs wouldnt move towards him. Robert edged closer.
Ive come back. Got my old jobwell, not as a team leader, just on the line. Can I come in?
She gripped the broom, chin high.
Come in? Be my guest. But only if youre writing up the divorce papers, and I mean now.
Not forgiven, then? Fair enough.
If you know that, why come back at all?
When I left, Olivia told me if I went home, shed never take me back. So Ive come back, Lydia, to start again.
She gave a harsh, brittle laugh. Youre wanted neither here nor there, Robert. Thats the truth. Youre back because Peter forced you. He wouldnt leave till you did. Go on then, live your lifedont get in my way. Dont hang about. She swiped at his shoes with the broom, strong and scornful.
Turning her back, she swept the path with ferocious energy. After a few minutes she looked back. Robert had disappeared. She exhaled deeply, as though a weight lifted. Secretly, shed feared he might wait, that shed be weak enough to take him back. But you didnt shield a back-stabber with your chestshe knew that now.
