LIKE A CHAFFINCH TO A WHISTLE
Ladies, once you marry, that’s it! It should be for life, right until your last breathand with someone you truly love. You cant keep wandering the world in search of your other half, or youll end up like a bruised apple, nibbled away and left behind.
A married man? I shook my head in mock horror. Complete taboo! Dont even toy with the idea. You think, oh, just a little fling and then Ill dash offbefore you know it, both of you are tumbling into misery. And happiness? Itll steer clear of you, believe me.
My parents have been together for fifty yearsliving proof its possibleand I told myself to search for my own happily-ever-after and guard it with my life. Thats what Id confidently spouted to my friends at my twentieth birthday celebration. All those pearls of wisdom? Straight from my gran, and who in their right mind would doubt her?
Of course, my friends just laughed.
Oh, Emily! Sarah grinned. Wait til you fall for a married man Id love to see you try to give him up.
What I didnt mention was that, before marrying Dad, my mum had my older sister from goodness knows wherea proper scandal in our village. Five years later, I arrived, but at least legitimately. Dad was utterly smitten with Mum, and together, theyve walked through life arm-in-arm, albeit far away from home due to the shame. That memory shaped my own rulesno children out of wedlock, no sneaking around with married men.
But, as the British weather likes to remind everyone, life doesnt care much for our tidy little plans.
My older sister, Alice, and I have never exactly been tight. Shes always felt that Mum and Dad coddle me and leave her out. If Im honest, shes like a dog with a bone, always desperate for more parental affection as if its a competition. Not the most mature game, but there we are.
Then there was Tom. We met at a local dance in Leedshe was a police trainee, I was a nurse. The music, the lights, the awkward but earnest flirting, and voilà: love at first sight. We wed a month later, giddy and overflowing with joy. I trailed after Tom like a chaffinch chasing a whistle.
After his graduation, we moved for his postingsome tiny barracks miles from my family in Kent. Unsurprisingly, the cracks began to show: arguments, misunderstandings, the usual marital teething problems. Mum was a ferry ride and half a country away, so confiding wasnt exactly on the cards.
Our little Poppy arrived. It was the 90severything seemed unstable. Tom left the force and discovered the joys of the bottle. At first, I tried to comfort him. Itll be all right, just hang on, Id say.
Tom would half-listen.
I get it, Em, but I just cant stop. With a drink in me, everythings rosy.
Then came the disappearancessometimes a day, sometimes a week. Once, he was gone for a whole month, only to return and slam a suitcase on the table, stuffed with wads of cash.
Where on earth is this from? I asked, suspicious.
Why does it matter, Em? Spend ittheres more where that came from! he boasted.
I hid the case away. Far better out of sight. I never touched a penny.
Months later, Tom reappearedthin, haggard, and clearly beaten down. His eyes looked hollow, like a man seeing ghosts.
Emily, take off your gold bits. I have serious debts to pay, he muttered through clenched teeth.
Pardon? Those bits were from my parents. Theyre all I haveI wont give them up, not for anyone! My patience snapped, and so did my voice.
Tom stepped closer, menacing.
Come on, love, are you going to help me or not?
Shaken, I fetched the suitcase from the kitchen.
Heres your fortune. Poppy and I will manage just fine without it.
He opened the case.
Have you dipped in?
Not a single pound. Thats your mess.
He sighed.
Still not enough. Well, Ill think of something.
That night, Tom delivered an exuberant apology in the bedroom. I still loved himcouldnt help itand every time, I forgave. The next morning, he packed his bag.
How long this time, Tom? I asked, searching his face for any real answer.
No idea, Em. Wait for me, he murmured before vanishing down the hall.
So I waited. One year. Then another
At the hospital, a doctor started courting me. Davidgood with a stethoscope, terrible at choosing single women. The fact he was married gave me pause (that and the mess of my own marriage). Tom had been MIA for over two years, radio silence, not so much as a postcard.
Then Christmas drew nearthe usual British kerfuffle: tangerines rolling off the shelves, pine needles everywhere, Mariah Carey wailing by the tills.
Knock at the door. Theres Tom.
I flung my arms round him, half-laughing, half-sobbing:
Finally! Whereve you been?
Easy, Em. Listenwe need to get divorced. Theres a boymy sonI dont want him growing up without a proper dad, he mumbled, suddenly shy.
The room spun. The last of my love fizzled away, a charcoal stub under the cold. But honestly, I should have seen it coming.
Right you are, Tom. They say theres no point crying over spilt milk. After the holiday, well sort the divorce.
Would you like to see Poppy? Shes at her friends house. I can bring her over if you wait. Shell grow up without her dad now, I added, pointing the arrow.
Sorry, Im in a rush. Ill see her next time, Tom saidand left. There was no next time. He never saw Poppy again. We became strangers overnight.
David, the doctor, picked up on the single womans aura I must have started emitting and swept me into a whirlwind romance. I stopped caring that he was marriedthe rules had vanished. David was attentive, irresistible, and genuinely charming. I fell headlong into the affair for three wild years, until he proposed.
But I found my voice.
No, David. We cant build happiness on someone elses tears. Youve got a wife and a little girlyou belong with them.
I had to move hospitals, just to cool the embers. Out of sight, out of mindor so they say.
But fate cut in again, and this time, it was Bensingle father, always joking, always kind. His ex had legged it, leaving him with their son, Oliver. We met in my new hospital, where he was a patient, and before long, banter turned into the most fantastic love.
Oliver was seven, my Poppy was eight. From that day on, Ben and I faced everything togetherteamwork, chaos, no secrets. I landed on my feet with my second husband: thirty years of happy marriage, and Ill never stop treasuring him. Ben is my rock.
Just recently, my mother told me Tom rang her.
Ive never met a woman like Emily, he said.
Well, cheers, Tom. Better late than neverbut Im alright, thank you very much.
