Too old for a romance, the voice whispered inside the kitchen, where I, Olive, held a steaming mug in my trembling hands. Across the table, Nora swirled her spoon through the tea, a mischievous halfsmile frozen on her lips, as if she were watching a private joke unfold. My fingers quivered, but I set the cup down with the care of a woman trying not to betray the tremor.
Nora, I began, voice barely above a sigh, Ive been alone for five years, and Im only fifty. I deserve a bit of happiness, you know.
My daughterinlaw let out a laugh that cut through the air like a shard of glass.
Of course you can wish for it, she said, leaning back in her chair as if the world were a stage she could recline upon. But finding a partner at our age is like hunting for a needle in a haystack, and what time is it now anyway?
Heat rose to my cheeks, a sting of hurt gathering at my throat. I rose, gathering the cups, my hands refusing to obey.
Teas over, I snapped, dry as a leaf.
Nora shrugged, slipped out of the room without a goodbye, leaving me alone in the kitchen. I stood by the sink, staring out at the grey courtyard, a sour taste settling in my throat. Her words lodged like a splinter. Was I truly unwanted? Had my time slipped away?
For two days I moved through the house like a shadow, avoiding conversation. Arthur, my son, tried to pry, but I brushed him off. I didnt want to become the meddling motherinlaw that sows discord.
On the third day, a call came from my schoolfriend, Gwendolyn. She invited me over for tea, and I accepted, hoping a change of scenery might lift the fog.
Gwendolyn welcomed me with a warm hug and led me to her cosy kitchen. As I sat opposite her, her familiar eyes seemed to pull the walls of my world apart.
Gwen, I feel my life has taken a wrong turn, I confessed, clutching a steaming mug. A year ago Arthur brought his wife home. The young ones are saving for a house of their own. I try to be a good motherinlaw; our relationship is decent, even warm. Im happy for my son, but I long to be loved again, to love again Yet my daughterinlaw tells me Im too old for new romance. Maybe shes right.
Gwendolyn placed her hand over mine.
Olive, shes not right, she said, firm as a oak. I was fifty when my divorce left me alone. I spent my life raising kids, never a moment for myself. They grew up, left, and I was left with an empty house. I still dont know how to look for someone again. But you, dear, you still have timetake a chance.
Her words eased the heaviness in my chest. She understood, she supported.
Then she spoke thoughtfully.
Listen, Olive I have a cousin, Tom. Good bloke, decent, fiftythree, divorced five years ago, two grown children. Would you like me to introduce you? Meet somewhere, and let fate decide.
My heart thudded wildly. It was terrifying to say yes, but even more terrifying to remain forever solitary.
Lets try, I managed.
We agreed to meet in a tiny café on the high street. I arrived early, fingers fidgeting with the hem of my dress. Soon a silverhaired man entered, and I recognised him at once it was Andrew, a friend of Gwendolyns.
He approached, smiling.
Olive? A pleasure. Gwendolyn has spoken highly of you.
We ordered coffee, stumbling through awkward pauses at first, then gradually loosening the knot of tension. Andrew spoke of his work as an engineer, two daughters now living on their own, the year after his divorce when he thought hed never recover. I told him of my husbands sudden death, the long, cold grief that followed.
Both of us carried whole lives on our shoulders; there was no need for pretence. Two weary, yet unbroken people sat opposite each other, ready to give themselves another chance.
Evening fell, and Andrew walked me to the bus stop, handing me a modest bunch of wild daisies bought from a stall.
Simple, isnt it? he muttered, scratching his chin.
I pressed the flowers to my chest, smiling broadly.
Thank you, theyre lovely.
At home, Arthur whistled when he saw the bouquet.
Mom, look at you! Youre practically glowing, he winked.
I laughed, hugging my son. It felt good that he wasnt opposed, that he was happy for me.
Just then Nora slipped into the kitchen, her gaze hardening as she stared at me.
Whats next then? Where will these dates lead you? she snapped.
I stammered, Nora, I said its early to talk about that. Weve only just met.
Dont be naïve, she retorted sharply. You think this man is interested in you for anything beyond your flat? Why should he even bother?
Tears welled up, raw and sudden. Arthur leapt up, gripping my wife’s hand.
Nora, what nonsense is that? You barely know him!
Nora lifted her hand, Im not accusing, just seeing. There are too many leeches nowadays. Trust only family, she warned.
I retreated to my bedroom, slammed the door, and collapsed onto the bed. The daisies lay innocent on the nightstand. Was Nora right? Was I being foolish? Her words pierced deeper because she delivered them in front of my son, trying to turn him against me.
Weeks passed, and I kept meeting Andrew. Each outingstrolls through the park, cinema trips, quiet cafésbrought a smile. One afternoon he spoke of the future.
Olive, Im not rushing, but would you consider moving in with me? A twobedroom flat might feel cramped, but I have a cottage out in the country. Summer could be spent there, in the open air. Im looking for something serious.
Warmth spread through me. Perhaps Nora had been wrong.
I walked home, intending to tell Nora about Andrews words, to prove not all men were scoundrels. On the corner, I spotted her with a friend, both perched on a bench, oblivious to me. Noras voice rose, nearly shouting.
I dont know what to do! Arthur wants a baby, Im not ready. Hes always turning to his mother for helpbabysitting, choreswhile Im stuck at work. And now shes off in the clouds with some romance. Ive tried to tell her to stop, but she wont listen!
I slipped away, taking a different route, a chill settling in my bones. It wasnt care; it was selfishness. I was just a free babysitter in her plans.
That evening, at dinner, I asked Arthur, How much more do you need for a deposit on a house?
He looked up, surprised.
About five hundred pounds. Were not asking you
Im willing to use part of my savings as a gift, I said. So you can finally have a home of your own.
Arthur leapt up, hugging me.
Mom, thank you! Thats amazing!
Nora scowled, then turned to Arthur.
Nora, thank Mom!
I stared at my daughterinlaw.
She wont thank me. I didnt sign up to be a free babysitter. I chose myself.
Arthur froze.
What?
I poured out everythingthe street argument, Noras scheme to keep me as a nanny, her attempts to sabotage Andrew.
Arthurs face drained. He turned to Nora, his expression twisting.
Is that true, Mom?
Nora stared at the floor, silent.
Answer! Arthur demanded.
She snapped, I was only trying to do whats best for ussomeone to help with a child.
Leave! I shouted. Pack your things and go. I wont see you again.
Arthur shouted at her, Youre mad!
Youre the one whos lost it, Nora retorted, tears spilling. Im filing for divorce!
She sobbed, but Arthur remained unmoved, giving her a moment to gather her belongings before the door slammed shut behind her.
Arthur sank into a chair, covering his face with his hands. I knelt beside him, embracing him.
Forgive me, love. I didnt see her for what she was. Im sorry I didnt protect you.
Itll be okay, son. It will be alright
Three years later.
The cottage was a riot of green. Julys heat beat down, but beneath the awning of a long table a cool shade lingered. I carried salads, smiling. Andrew tended the barbecue. Arthur cradled baby Max, while his wife, Irene, set the plates. Andrews daughters, Kate and Lena, cooed over the infant, their eyes bright with delight.
What a handsome little lad! Kate exclaimed, tickling Maxs chin. Arthur, how did you get such a cute son?
Arthur laughed, All credit to Irene, Im just the lucky one!
Lena made funny faces at the baby, giggling.
I watched the scene, heart swelling. A large, happy family gathered around the table, laughter spilling like tea. I caught Arthurs eye; his smile held gratitude, love, contentment.
I returned his smile. Everything fell into place, for both of us.
