Pack your things, Ive met my first love, announced her husband. Yet an hour later, he was the one standing with a suitcase.
Andrew returned from his school reunion on a Sunday evening. Evelyn was just finishing up the washing-up in the kitchen.
Something was different about him. Excited, flushedas if hed just received a long-awaited promotion or heard hed won the lottery. Evelyn eyed him, drying her hands on a tea towel, and thought, Blimey, he mustve had a good time.
Andrew said nothing. He got changed, and went straight to bed.
In the morning, he sat at the kitchen table with the air of a man who had made a life-altering decision. It was just like in a filmhands folded before him, eyes grave. Evelyn set his tea on the table and opened the fridge, planning to sort out the leftover cottage pies. Thats when he spoke.
Evie. We need to talk.
Oh dear, she thought. Those four words, harbingers of everything unpleasant.
I saw Laura yesterday. You remember, my first love?
Evelyn remembered. Laura cropped up in conversation once every five years, usually after Andrew had had a few ciders and the mood had turned nostalgic. “We were so young.” The usual tale.
We talked. For ages. And, well, Evie, you should pack your things.
Evelyn turned from the fridge. The leftover pies sat forgotten on the shelf.
Sorry?
Weve decided to be together. Me and Laura. Do you understand?
Evelyn watched her husband in silence.
The flats mine, anyway, Andrew added, as if preparing for a debate. His tone was that of someone declaring, and thats that. Youd best find somewhere else.
Evelyn calmly returned the pies to the fridge, closing the door carefully so the little Liverpool magnet wouldn’t fall.
Youve made your decision already? she asked.
Yes.
She nodded and went to the bedroom.
Evelyn sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall. There, a calendar with kittens hungthe one theyd bought last January from the Wilkos because it was cheap, just two pounds. January and February had long passed, but the ginger kitten with a ribbon still peered down at her with what almost looked like gentle understanding.
So thats how it is, she thought.
Twenty years shed lived with this man, and now he waited for her to pack her bags. Twenty yearsthats a lifetime.
Their first flat in Peckham, with the leaking tap and the neighbour Tom singing at all hours. The bankruptcy, when Andrew walked around grey-faced for three months and Evelyn pretended not to notice him quietly drinking on the balcony. The night he had appendicitis and she drove him to A&E at three in the morningthe surgeon said, Another hour and it could have been curtains. The graduation of her studentsshed taught English at the local secondary schooland Andrew had turned up with flowers, beaming awkward and proud in her classroom doorway. All of that had happened. But apparently none of it mattered.
Evelyn stood up. She wandered around the room, stopping at the wardrobe.
On the top shelf, at the back, the documents sat where she’d always kept them.
Andrew still sat at the table, scrolling on his phoneno doubt chatting with Laura, as every so often he smiled, half-confident, half-embarrassed. The sort of smile you wear when you expect applause after doing something worthy.
Evelyn sat down and laid the documents on the table.
Packing your papers? Andrew asked, watching her out of the corner of his eye.
No. I just want to show you something.
She opened the folder.
Evie, do you have to do this now?
Shush for a moment.
Evelyn found the right paper, sliding it across to Andrew.
It was their prenuptial agreement. Fifteen years ago, when Andrew had started his first businessbuilding suppliesa solicitor had suggested it. Andrew hadnt cared much. Evie, its just a formality. Were family. Shed gone to the solicitors alone, signed it, brought home a copy.
Andrew had said, Fine, and shoved the paper in the back of the desk. Later, Evelyn had quietly placed it in the wardrobe.
Not that Evelyn was a schemershe was simply an organised soul.
And as for the business, it had lasted barely fourteen months before collapsing in a muddle of debts. Back then, Evelyn had suggested selling the flat to pay it all off, but Andrew refused. Ill sort it. And he did, though not in three months as hed promised, but over six years, bit by bit. Evelyn picked up extra hours and never complained.
Andrew took the paper and began to read.
Evelyn poured herself a cold tea and drank it.
Wait Andrews voice was softer, more careful. It says here
Yes, Evelyn replied.
That the flat is yours, in the event of a divorce.
Yes.
But how
Andrew reread the paper, then lowered it.
Evelyn didnt interrupt. Let him read, let him read again. Hed had fifteen years to check, hadnt bothered. Now, at last, he paid attention.
And the loans? he asked.
The business loans are yours. Its in clause four.
Andrew said nothing. On his phone, a message blinkedprobably Laura, checking in. He ignored it.
Evie, he said.
Yes?
Did you do this on purpose? Save everything just for this?
Evelyn thought for a moment and answered honestly, No. I just never throw away documents.
It was the truth. Evelyn kept everythingreceipts, warranties, instructions for old washing machines, ancient clinic letters. An organised soul, through and through.
Andrew returned to reading the paper, then stared out of the window.
Evelyn picked up the folder and her cup, putting them away. Then she turned, saying quietly:
Andrew. One of us really does need to find somewhere else, and youre rightits not going to be me.
She went back to the bedroom.
Andrew sat at the kitchen table for another twenty, maybe thirty minutes. Evelyn lost trackshe busied herself stacking the books at the end of the bed, moving the geranium from the windowsill to the shelf, dusting the wardrobe. Keeping her hands busy meant her mind wasnt so loud.
Andrew appeared in the doorway.
Evie.
She looked up. He was holding the prenuptial agreement as though it might save him at any momentor perhaps not.
Evie, wait. Let’s talk like adults.
All right, Evelyn said flatly, without expression. Go on.
This agreementit was years ago, another time. We never thought
Never thought what?
Andrew faltered. He didn’t know how to finish. Never thought wed split? Never thought itd matter? Or just never thought?
The solicitor certified it, Evelyn said. It’s all legal. I checked.
When?
Five years ago. Just in case.
Andrew looked at her as if hed missed something crucial for years.
Were you planning all this?
Evelyn paused. No. I told you, Im just organised.
The truth again. Five years ago, shed rung the solicitor about her mums inheritance, and at the end asked about the prenup. Still stands, dont worry, he told her. Great, shed said, and forgotten about ituntil today.
Andrew went back to the kitchen. She heard him rustling about, opening cupboards, muttering.
She poked her head in. What are you doing?
Thinking, he said.
About what?
He didnt answer.
Evelyn filled the kettle and set it to boil.
Andrew, she asked, have you thought about where youre going?
He remained silent.
I see, Evelyn said.
She understood perfectly. Andrew had pictured it playing out differently. Hed say his piece, Evelyn would sob, pack for her best friends. Hed stay in the flat. Laura would come round. Simple, tidy.
Finding out Evelyn held a forgotten documenthis self-written script didnt allow for that.
The kettle boiled. Evelyn made her tea.
Im not going anywhere, she announced quietly. This is my place, and Ill remain here.
Andrew said nothing.
Where am I supposed to?
To Lauras, Evelyn reminded him. Wasnt that the plan?
She did not feel anger towards Laura. Not even interest, truly. Laura was from an old chaptera nostalgic tale over prosecco and schoolyard memories. The only person Evelyn disrupted was Andrew.
Well, thats life.
She Andrew hesitated.
She what?
She doesnt knowNot exactly. We havent discussed it in detail. Shesnot quite ready.
Evelyn set her mug down.
Andrew, are you telling me to pack my things when you havent even sorted where youre going?
He said nothing. His face answered for him.
Some men love making grand decisions. They’re less good with the follow-through.
Evelyn stood up, fetched his old brown travel bag from the wardrobe, and set it on the table.
Here you are, she said. Take what you need.
Evie
Andrew. You made your decision. I respect it. Now see it through.
He gazed at the bag. Too late, he realised the enormity of what hed started.
He went to pack.
Evelyn lingered in the kitchen. She heard drawers opening and closing, cupboard doors creaking, something metallic clinkinga razor, perhaps. Twenty years. Enough belongings to fill a single small holdall.
An hour later, Andrew came to the front hall, bag in hand, looking like a man who hadnt so much changed his mind as realised hed never thought it through.
Evie, he said. Ill ring.
All right, said Evelyn.
Well need to, you know, talk about the divorce papers.
Call me. Well sort it.
He lingered, as if waiting for tears, pleading, rowssomething to put the world as it was. But nothing came.
Andrew opened the door and left.
Three weeks later, Evelyn heard from Mrs. Parker, an ex-colleague who knew everyones business, that Andrew and Laura hadnt worked out.
It turned out Laura lived at her sistersa one-bed flat, sister, her husband, two kids. Not exactly room for romance. Andrew didnt move in. Instead, he rented a room in Ilford from an elderly lady who forbade smoking and insisted on a heads-up before guests.
Lauras interest, when she learned about Andrews new living situationand the lack of any flatcooled off rather quickly. Evidently, the idea of a man leaving everything for love sounded better than the reality: a man with nothing but a battered holdall and a trail of debts. First love can look rosy from a distance. Up close, things often appear quite different.
Evelyn listened, nodded, and refilled Mrs. Parker’s teacup.
So how are you, really? Mrs. Parker asked, adopting the special tone reserved for endless sympathy.
Im just fine, said Evelyn.
And it was the truth. In those three weeks, she signed up for a massage classsomething shed always delayed. She rang her old friend Mags, whom she hadnt seen in three years. They met for coffee and chatted for hours. She bought a pool membership. Little things, but as it turns out, life is made of little things.
Sometimes, in the quiet evenings, Evelyn thought of Andrew. Not angrily. Just because. Once, she caught herself thinking it was good hed been the one to open that door. She might have lived on, never opening it herself.
The kitten calendar still hung on the wall, months old, ginger kitten with a ribbon looking on. Evelyn thought she should finally turn the page to the present month.
Then she smiled and decided, theres no hurry.
Because sometimes, the best thing you can do for yourself is let goorganise your heart the way you would your paperworkand trust that, with time, new pages will turn, and your life will be truly your own.
