We meet the wrong ones, we marry the wrong ones
The road of life is full of brambles, and fate is never far behind. Each of us has a story of our own, a truth shaped by our days. Evelyn grew up amid a household of womena sort of queenless hive. If you could even call it a kingdom, for it was just their little house on the edge of the moor. There was always the garden, logs to chop for the fire, water to pull up from the well, a chicken to chase, and always more work than could ever be finished.
Her grandmother, Edith, had lived in the village alone for so many years, widowed young. Her daughter, Margaret, Evelyns mother, had also been left aloneher husband vanished when Evelyn was two. So, it was the three of them: Edith, Margaret, and the little girl Evelyn. By the age of eight, Evelyn already knew how to milk a cow, weed rows of beans, and was learning to cook simple food.
Edith was well past fifty the day she trudged in from the dairy farm, boots muddy, face lined, and said:
Margaret, love, Im tired of all this
Mum, whats wrong? Margaret asked, and even Evelyn dragged herself to listen.
Whats wrong? Im tired of breaking my back year after year, shovelling muck. Dont we deserve something more? Her knotted hands rested heavily on her lap as she spoke.
And what do you suggest, Mum?
Lets move to the city. Well sell the lot. Ive saved some money over the yearswell get a flat, start again.
Gran, Im in, Evelyn blurted, bouncing with excitement I want to see the city, I really do!
And that was just what they did. Ediths elder brother, Arthur, lived already in Nottingham, and provided them a refuge.
You can have the spare room until you find your own place, his wife fussed, rattling teacups and fluffing pillows.
Their relations were patient, even kindly to the new arrivals. Margaret set off flat-hunting as soon as they settled, with Arthur lending a hand. Eventually, they found a place, a modest flat in a red-brick council estate.
Needs a bit of work, sighed Edith but all the savings have gone on the deposit. Never mind, well do it up by and by.
Ive found work, too, Margaret said, just as they swapped keys, at the bakery down the road. Evelynll start at the local school come September. Theres one nearby, so I can walk her on my way to my shift.
Don’t worry, Ill see to it, said Edith youll be busy, and shell need showing the ropes at school.
Evelyn started in Year 6, the school not far at all, and she tried to be diligent, basking in the sharp newness of city life.
When Margaret returned from her first shift, her mother surprised her:
Theyve taken me on as cleaner at Evelyns school. I can work a bit, at least while I have the strength. Moneys tight.
Oh, Mum, you could rest, you do have your pension.
No, love. I feel grand enough. Besides, I can keep an eye on Evelyn at school.
Time spilled forward. Edith kept cleaning, finding odd comfort in it. Margaret rose early for bread-mixing and dough-proofing. Evelyn did well enough at her studies.
When Evelyn finished Year 8, she left school, realising she needed to help out. Walking past a little bistro, she spotted a sign for a washer-up. Without a second thought, she stepped inside and got the job that very day.
She scrubbed pots, peeled potatoes, filled in for the cook when she was outside on a cigarette break, and stirred the soups so they wouldnt catch. Soon she was friends with the kitchen girls, and ended up going out dancing with them most nights.
Mum, Im off to the youth clubtheres a dance, Ill be late.
Mind how you go, miss, Edith would call after her, dont let the boys turn your head, use your common sense!
Oh, Gran, Im not a child anymore, I know what Im about.
At one of these clattering, dizzy dances, Evelyn met Colin. He asked her for a dance and then hovered protectively all evening.
Ill walk you home, he said with a frankness she couldnt ignore.
They saw each other often after that, until one day Colin told her:
Eve, Ive been called up. Im off to do my stint in the army. Will you wait for me? Ill write, you must write too.
I promise I will, she replied, full of hope.
True to their word, they exchanged letters. Colin wrote of camp life, and promised, when he’d leave, hed visit on furlough. Evelyn was giddy with anticipation. When he arrived, though, something had changed.
Well, Evelyn, how are you? Not planning on getting married yet, are you? he half-joked, half-avoided her eyes.
I promised. Im waiting.
Hm, well, he demurred, his voice dry, gaze elsewhere.
His leave was over before she could grasp what was wrong. Soon, his letters thinned; soon after, they ceased altogether.
Colin was due home for goodit was soon all over the village. But he never turned up at the dance. Evelyn waited, but he never came, never sent word. There were no phones; nothing but rumour.
One evening, walking home arm-in-arm with her friends under yellow streetlight, she said:
Girls, do you reckon somethings happened to Colin? He should be back by now. I dont know where his folks live, or I’d check.
Go on, do, one friend quipped with a sly grin, his wife will be happy to meet you. Oh, Eve, youre so dafthe got married in the army and brought his bride home. No wonder hes not shown his face.
But I waited, said Evelyn, astonished, crestfallen.
Yes, but he didnt.
Not long after, she did see himby accident, in a near-empty park, just like old times.
Evelyn! he sprang up at the sight of her.
She kept walking past. He tried to catch her arm.
WaitEve, forgive me. I was a fool. I think of you all the time, I see you in my dreams. I dont love her, I had to marryshes having my child. Evelyn, I miss you.
She stopped, looked straight into his face:
And what do you expect? That I meet you in secret while you live with her? No. Im not daft. You chose your lifestay and make something of it. Be a father and a husband. Dont drag me into it. Goodbye, Colin.
She strode off, her heart heavy but oddly lighter too.
Back at the bistro, the manager, after watching her sharp with a knife and nimble at the stove, offered:
Evelyn, youre wasted on the washing up. You have a knack for the kitchen. Theres a chefs course in the county. Want to go?
Id love that, really, I would.
Soon, dolled-up and nervous, Evelyn was standing at the station waiting for a train to London for her chefs course. Boys with guitars marched by, singing, sending off a mate on leave from the army.
Out of that ruckus stepped a young fellow in army uniform.
Miss, lets trade names! Im Jim, and yours?
Evelyn, she replied.
Waiting for the half-seven to Paddington? he asked, she nodded.
Just then, the train pulled in, and Jim bounded back to his friends.
Odd sort of chap, Evelyn thought why would he want just my name?
She climbed into the carriage, found a seat, and watched the landscape whisk by in a dazzle of fields. But over her shoulder, the soldier reappeared.
Ah, there you are. Ive searched every carriage! Listen, Ill be quick. I was home on leave, spotted you, couldnt let it go. Lets swap addresseswrite to each other? Where are you off to?
Cookery training, Evelyn said quietly.
She noticed he seemed steadfast, honest, not a promise he wouldnt keep. They talked the whole journey, sharing scraps of their lives. Addresses swapped, they parted. Evelyn didnt think much of it. Shed seen how things went with Colinshe didnt set her heart on Jim. But he was good company, a kind, funny boy.
Gran Edith always said: we meet the wrong ones, we marry the wrong ones, Evelyn mused as she set pen to paper, not daring to dream this would be different.
But for nearly a year, Jim wrote faithfully. And when he finally came home from his service, straightaway he turned up at her door. By luck, it was her day off; both were thrilled to reunite. Evelyn saw he was truehe hadn’t let her down.
Time passed. Evelyn married Jim. She worked in a restaurant kitchen, a proper chefs hat now on her head. He was on shifts at the Ford factory. Evelyn liked everything tidy, in its place: housework crisp, Sunday roast perfect, their twinsJack and Henryclean and spruced for nursery school.
But at home, she was always at odds with Jims chaos. Tools in the hallway, boots on the carpetnever a sock in the right place. For a while she scolded and picked up after him, then realised:
I need a different strategywit and warmth, thats the ticket.
She charmed him, persuaded, never nagged. Slowly, Jim left oily overalls in the porch, kept his tools boxed in the shed, polished the garage, even swept the yard. Evelyn felt triumphant.
In the end, I did meet the right one, and married him, no matter what Gran said, she thought.
They lived happily for decades, the kind of love that hums beneath the everyday. But one night, Jim didnt come home. Hed collapsed on his way from the planta heart attack, swift and final. No warning, just that sudden end. Evelyn grieved.
So now Evelyn is alone, as Edith was at the end, as Margaret was. And now Evelyn carries forth alone, though children and grandchildren visit. You cannot flee from fateit finds us all, in the end.
