Loneliness
A year ago, my husband pledged himself to marriage, and she rejected him. Better one thing than a free service in the summerbecome free of worries, they said.
Whats the use of being alone, Emily? the old woman at the market asked, her voice weary with the same old complaints. A man should not be solitary; a woman must always have a husband. Otherwise it feels wrong and no one will ever look at you. Do you know what loneliness is?
Whats that? Emily asked, a smile turning her features into a grimace that barely concealed the hurt.
Loneliness is a pest! the old neighbor, Martha, declared, her eyes darting past the ordinary chatter. Its like wanting to give water to someone who never drinks. Children will grow up without you!
Where? Emily asked, the question spilling out without a pause.
Where where in the Midlands! Martha finally said, realizing the old woman was not laughing at her but at the empty room Martha had just left. You should have a husband, I keep looking after you. One alone is hard. Yet the soul is a stubborn beast. Lets get acquainted, shall we? Emily, a good man is out there. But those who wont rise quickly will fall.
Emily had already known the weight of this for ten years. The small, generous village that she called home had once, ten years before, brought a stranger into her life. He appeared once, mainly. When Emily learned of this, she arranged a meeting with two sisters, and then with a pair of chickens. Though the suitor tried to convince her that a onceoff is possible and nothing is strange without a man, beating his own heart with a wooden club and shedding cheap, manly tears, Emily remained indifferent. The meeting went ahead.
The husband approached politely, leaving the chickens to the former wife and to their two childrens support. Yet the children grew up and scattered far and wide. The son stayed and worked in York; the daughter soon married and moved abroad with her husband. Emily remained alone in a modest twobed flat in the centre of London.
Living alone never embarrassed her. She earned a modest income as a clerk, and her earnings allowed her to live comfortably, hosting occasional visits from her children and from Martha. Though she was not highly educated, she always found something to occupy her mind and never grew bored. She read a lot, swam, took yoga, loved to travel, and occasionally went hunting with friends. In short, she lived to her satisfaction.
Until the day when Martha refused to settle Emilys fate
Listen to me, Emily. A good man, not yet twentyone, will be here in seven years. A spacious home, a fine estate, all the cattle, goats, pigs and chickensnothing missing! Its a healthy diet, mind youmilk, eggs, meat. Youll live a hundred years, you fool! And the man will be charming, welldressed and educated, speaking all the proper things Emily, at least try. Lets get acquainted, shall we? Martha pleaded, her voice trembling as she tried to persuade Emily.
Emily replied, Very well, Martha, meet my neighbourMr. Blackwell, the farmer. Thats all. But I promised nothing.
Business does not change, as they say. So Martha, not wanting to bury the business in a long drawer, quickly arranged a meeting between herself and the farmer.
The farmer turned out to be almost nothing. Tall, muscular, dressed decently and with quality boots. His workhands were rough but clean, his nails wellkept. He boasted proudly, spoke calmly, and was quick to joke, entertaining the whole gathering for hours. His name, oddly enough, was John.
After the first encounter, a second invitation followed, then a third Emily began to keep an eye on John. She thought perhaps a good wife might need a kindred soul. John was eager to form a partnership. Lets marry soon, before we grow old. I have work, and I need a partner to help. The workers are good. But as they sayif you want to do well, do it yourself. Youll be a wife who wont miss a thing, youll keep everything in order. Well need cows to milk, goats, eggs to collect. And a home without a proper wife is nothing! Ill kill a pig, but a womans hand and eye are better than any mans. Lets travel together, eh? And the spring will bring the sowing, the hens will wait. The chickens are ready
Emily returned home and pondered. What was all this for? She owned a small plot in the city, a modest job, a tiny garden where she planted herbs in summer and wished for a loom in winter. She owned the land herself. She had even bought a modest carriage eight years ago. She had travelled, settled, and married. Why now did she have to grind, clean pigs, tend to cows and chickens?
She still had to prepare dinner for her husband, buy provisions, pay the weekly rent, and look after the whole estate. And still keep the house clean. Of course, the income from this business was decent, yet it did not make her life any easier. Her pension would come, she could afford it, and she even had some savings.
All these things were necessary, not just for a comfortable life for Emily. Yet she wondered if she should bend her back in the garden, plant a carrot, and, with a stick, pull on a rope for two metreswas that truly needed? In the evening, Emily called Martha.
Martha, do not be offended. I must decline Johns proposal to marry him. Some might think a working man is lucky, but I do not need that. He did not show any remorse, Martha. He does not merely look for a wife, he seeks labour. I cannot, on legal grounds, be bound to his estate. I will remain in my solitude. And in summer, when the water is low, not everyone wishes to drink
For a long time Martha sighed, then softened. She did not shed a tear of anger at the farmers words. Yet, under the weight of a solemn promise, she smiled, thinking that perhaps a good wife does not need to be chased. She promised not to look for more suitors.
Emily wrote to John a message on her telephone, stating that she no longer wished to meet, that her wishes had changed and her circumstances no longer suited his plans. John tried to call back a day later, then again, but received no answer. He was clever, the man, yet Emily, at eight in the morning, rose, made a breakfast, washed up and sat down for a cup of tea with a biscuit. She looked out the window, remembering how she had not seen her children for ages; she should visit her son, call her daughter on her birthday. She also needed to buy a handbag for the small leather coat she owned. And she ought to phone Miss Leonard, the midwife, to set an appointment
She also thought that perhaps it was all rather selfish to be so goodnatured. Sometimes, however, such a healthy egoism is usefula sound, feminine selfinterest.
