“It’s no use, he won’t come…” sighed Margaret with a heavy heart. “John and I hardly even fret over it now—we’ve grown used to it. The same old story every time. Promises first, then silence.”
“What happened this time?” I asked. “Was it his wife again? I recall you never quite saw eye to eye with her…”
“Perhaps she forbade it. Though Richard’s never said outright it’s her keeping him. But it’s plain as day… He used to visit more. Now—nothing. She found a way to bind him. Even the roof repairs will have to be done by hired help—apparently, my son can’t spare a single day,” Margaret said, bitterness creeping into her voice.
She spoke of Richard, her forty-year-old son. He’d left their quiet village in Yorkshire twelve years prior, settling in Manchester, where he worked as a mechanic. Once a hands-on man, now he merely supervised. Married late to a woman named Eleanor—both past their youth when they wed.
“She’d never been serious with anyone before him,” Margaret continued. “And I see why. A difficult temper, that one. We clashed from the start. I tried, truly. But she… acted as if I were the enemy from day one.”
“Overheard her once on the telephone,” chimed in a neighbor. “Mocking tone even in greeting. Can’t fathom what Richard sees in her.”
Eleanor scarcely spoke to Richard’s parents. Once a year, by her gracious allowance, he might visit—alone. This spring, he’d promised to come help fix the roof. Even bought the train ticket. But then, as it turned out, Eleanor had other plans.
“She’s with child,” Margaret said, exasperated. “Now, apparently, she mustn’t be left alone. A grown woman, a nurse—what could possibly trouble her? For weeks she’s worn him down. He resisted at first, but…”
“How’s that meant to work?” John, Margaret’s husband, shook his head. “Does he escort her to work, then? Her own parents live nearby—let them help. Why must he abandon everything for her?”
“Precisely,” Margaret agreed. “I’m certain her mother’s behind it. ‘Don’t let him go, what if he returns and leaves you?’ Her younger sister, mind, ended up the same—a child in her arms, living back with their parents.”
“But Richard’s not that sort,” I protested. “He’s decent. Why not come together?”
“Don’t be silly!” Margaret waved a hand. “Eleanor would never step foot here. Once, John rang her—she threw such a fit, he told me never to call Richard again. Useless.”
“What did she say to him?”
“That we’re always demanding something. That we keep him from his family. That she hasn’t the strength to fight us anymore. That his leave ought to be spent with wife and child, not ‘indulging old folk’s whims.’ And that our house means nothing to her—we should keep it.”
“The nerve! And Richard?”
“He claims he’s blameless. Says he won’t stir trouble. Fears for the pregnancy. I understand, but… it isn’t fair. We raised him, gave all we could. Now he can’t spare even a day?”
John had finally snapped. In a flare of anger, he told Richard he’d hire laborers—do it himself. Let him stay with his wife, if she mattered more now than his own parents.
“But he doesn’t see,” Margaret murmured. “Wives come and go… Parents are the only ones you’ll ever have. And they’re not forever…”
