When I think back to those days, it feels as though Im watching a play from the village green in Yorkshire, the kind that once turned a modest farmhand into the talk of the whole shire. If anyone had ever dared tell Emily that she would become the spark for a quarrel between a father and his son, she would have scoffed and sent them packing their words. Emily was a plain, country girl, but she could stand up for herself when the need arose. Yet the fates wove a different pattern, and even in the bleakest nightmare she never imagined she would have to tread the seven circles of hell to find happiness.
Emily had only just moved to London, though until the very last moment she begged her mother not to send her to her Aunt Margaret. At the family council it was decided that she, and she alone, must go to Margarets flat in the capital, for there was no one else to look after the old woman. John, the patriarch, had been a tractor driver, now left with endless fields to tend. Mother kept the farmstead running, while the handful of brothers and sisters were either at school or in the nursery.
With a small suitcase packed with the essentials, Emily set off for the aunt she had seen merely once, at a distant christening. Folks whispered that Margaret, with her sharp tongue, had never gotten on with any of her three husbands, and that she had no children of her own no heirs to claim her modest flat. In the back of their hearts Emilys parents hoped she would inherit the lease and leave the cottage to a niece. That is exactly what happened, but the aunt kept Emily at arms length. She showed little interest in the girls life and guarded her own world fiercely. One wonders why she bothered to keep Emily around at all. The answer was simple: fear. Margaret was haunted by the thought of dying alone, of her body rotting unnoticed until a foul smell alerted the neighbours and the constable was called to pry open the door.
For years Margaret had battled an incurable illness, knowing that tomorrow could be her last. To her, Emily was a ticket to a timely funeral and a proper wake. Understanding this, Emily never pried. She washed, cooked, cleaned, shopped everything her aunt demanded. With no friends, the girl who was used to winding down after a hard day on a park bench with her peers found herself solitary. She rarely left the flat; the only escape was the balcony, where she could spend hours watching young mothers strolling with their tots, or elderly ladies gathering to gossip about the neighbourhood. Emilys life seemed split in two: the dreary part of running errands for a sick aunt, and the pleasant part that began when Margaret drifted off after her painkillers. Then Emily would brew a mug of strong coffee and drift onto the balcony for a wellearned peace.
It was there she first noticed Andrew, a charming neighbour who often appeared at the same hour. At first they nodded politely, pretending not to notice each other. Soon they exchanged greetings, and a shy, youthful infatuation blossomed. Both hurried to the balcony in hopes of catching a glimpse, each hoping for a few stolen moments together. By the time Margaret passed away, Emily and Andrew were already confiding their feelings. After the modest funeral, Emily told her parents she intended to enrol at a nursing college, though they saw through the ruse and chose not to argue.
Certain of their love, Emily welcomed Andrews proposal without hesitation. Andrew lived alone; his mother had remarried and moved to the United States after a divorce, while his father, Dr. Henry, practised medicine in Kenya and visited only once a year, usually on holiday. Their wedding was simple but merry, and the newlyweds were the happiest couple in the world, ready to walk handinhand through life.
Andrew followed in his fathers footsteps, training as a surgeon and taking a junior post at a city hospital. Emily, eager to match her husband, signed up for a nursing course and entered with confidence. She imagined the two of them arriving together at work, rescuing patients side by side a dream that, as it turned out, was not to be fully realised.
Emily, my dads coming in a week! Get everything ready, her brotherinlaw would tease.
Really? What does he like? Ill need to shop, plan a menu, give the flat a proper spring clean
Relax, love, hes not the king of Kenya, just a plainspoken man.
Yet Emily fretted. From the photographs he looked fit, tanned, almost Mediterranean, but appearances can be deceiving. What if he turned out to be a snob or a perfectionist, finding fault in everything? What if Andrew later thought she was unworthy and left her? When Dr. Henry finally arrived, he proved a gentle soul. He greeted his son and daughterinlaw with kisses, apologised profusely for missing the wedding, and arrived bearing a bounty of presents. He praised the stew Emily had prepared, saying hed not tasted anything finer, then set off to visit old friends. A month flew by, and Dr. Henry returned to Kenya, leaving the young couple to their own devices.
Sometimes Emily could not fathom why her motherinlaw seemed intent on swapping Dr. Henry for another man. He was a superb cook, often rising early to whip up delicate crêpes that would make any housewife jealous, and he pitched in with the cleaning, offering his son advice:
Lucky youve landed a good wife look after Emily, help her always, or youll lose your chance at happiness.
Andrew smiled silently, thinking, Where could she run off to? She isnt the type to abandon everything. He knew that even if Emily strayed, she would forgive and carry on as if nothing had happened country folk were simple, living for their children and bearing all hardships. When a nurse at the ward began to flirt, Andrew sank deeper into his own affair, untroubled by the fact that his wife was battling a fierce morning sickness that left her unable to cook. He would dine alone, escort his colleague Karina home, then feign fatigue on his return. Emily seemed oblivious to the shift in Andrews behaviour, absorbed in her own new sensations. She delighted at the thought of motherhood yet feared she could not cope, though she had a caring husband or so she thought.
When the baby arrived, the demands multiplied. Milk ran thin, the infant cried through the night, and Andrews temper flared. He demanded Emily calm the child while he retired to the lounge. Dr. Henrys next visit shocked him: the oncerosycheeked Emily was now pale and gaunt, a shadow of herself, while Andrew had grown sallow, his nights out lengthening.
Help your wife a bit, Henry urged.
Shes at home all day, let her at least look after the child, Andrew retorted.
Anyone else in the picture? Henry asked.
Why do you ask? Andrew replied.
I see you light up when youre away, and you grow sour when youre back, Henry observed.
Nothing serious, Father, Andrew shrugged.
Make sure nothing serious turns dreadful, Henry warned.
Emilys to blame, Henry muttered later, Shes not looking like a woman any more. Look at her hair, her face.
Youre the one at fault, she barely rests, Henry replied, Shes on her feet all the time.
Right, Im off, duties wont wait! Andrew bolted.
It seemed Andrew would not listen, insisting Emily must juggle everything at home, while Henry quietly understood her plight and offered help wherever he could.
Emily, go to bed, Ill look after the little one, Henry said.
Will she get hungry? Emily asked.
Ill sort a bottle and a meal, Henry replied, I raised a rascal like your husband, after all.
Thanks to her fatherinlaw, Emily managed a few more hours of sleep. He walked the baby, fed and tucked her in whenever Emily was occupied or when he wanted to give her a break. She thanked him night after night, praying that God would grant him a partner with whom he could share his own happiness. It was a lonely existence for Henry, far away in Kenya, while Emilys world now revolved around Andrew and their daughter.
Gradually, Emily found herself thinking of Henry more often. He became more than a fatherinlaw; he was a brother, a friend, a confidant. He could talk about anything, listen without judgment, and soothe her sorrowful thoughts about a future without him.
One day youre gloomy, Henry noted.
Just a bit, Emily murmured.
Here, a few pounds for a salon. Get a haircut, colour, makeup, a manicure. Then treat yourself. Dont worry about the girl; Ill look after her.
Emily darted off, planted a quick kiss on Henrys cheek, and rushed to spend his money. By evening she was transformed, radiant, and headed home with a spring in her step. A mischievous thought struck her why not surprise Andrew? She turned toward the hospital where he worked.
Good afternoon, Im looking for Dr. Andrew Hart, she said at the reception.
Hes in, the nurse replied.
Emily imagined his delight at her new look, until she opened the doors to find a young nurse perched on his lap, her coat halfunbuttoned, clearly not there for a medical exam. Emily fled the room, hailed a cab, and wept all the way home.
Whats wrong, love? her daughter asked.
Andrews been unfaithful, Emily sobbed.
Who told you? the little one pressed.
I saw it with my own eyes, Emily whispered.
Henry wrapped his arms around her, stroking her hair.
Cry, my dear, itll ease the pain. Ill speak to him, make him come round, he promised.
Ill take the baby and leave, Emily declared.
Dont be foolish, you cant just run off. Think of the child. Life in the village isnt easy, and youd have a baby in your arms, Henry pleaded.
No one had embraced Emily so tightly in months. She and Andrew had already been sleeping in separate rooms, and the scent of his aftershave, his gentle words, had once steadied her. Henry, too, felt a sudden, fierce protectiveness toward the vulnerable woman before him. He lifted her gently and carried her to the bedroom; she offered no resistance. A secret, tender and forbidden, blossomed between them, hidden from Andrews distracted gaze and his infatuation with Karina. When Andrew returned, he made no apology, acting as if nothing had happened, while Emily kept silent, torn between shame and the warm comfort of being cherished.
Soon Emily discovered she was pregnant again. The prospect terrified her how could she explain a third child when Andrew would surely suspect infidelity? Yet Henry, now almost fifty, beamed.
Congratulations! I never thought Id be a father again, he exclaimed. Will you marry me?
What about Andrew? Emily asked.
Hes a chapter closed. We both erred, but I love you and cant imagine life without you, Henry replied. Youll be my wife, and well start anew.
After a hasty divorce, Emily and Henry wed and moved to Kenya. Their families could not comprehend the choice; the villagers whispered that Emily had merely pretended modesty while chasing adventure. Andrew, still bitter, told anyone who would listen how cruelly he had been treated by his wife and his own father. Yet the two lovers cared little for gossip; they treasured each fleeting moment together, grateful to have finally found a happiness that had eluded them for so long.
