Waiting for her husband to come home from work, Eleanor Finch perched at the kitchen table, sipping a mug of rosemaryinfused tea and taking her time with each languid sip. The click of a key in the lock made her rise, and she froze in the doorway. In stepped Mark Spencer, looking as serious and as silent as a crossword puzzle on a Sunday morning.
Hi, she said first, late again, Ive already had dinner and Ive been waiting for you”
Hi, Mark replied. You could have skipped the waiting, Im not hungry and Im only staying briefly. Ill pack a few things and be off, he said without even taking off his shoes. He drifted into the hallway, opened the wardrobe and began stuffing a suitcase.
Eleanor stared, bewildered, as he tossed his belongings in haphazardly.
Mark, what on earth is happening?
You dont get it? Im leaving you, he said flatly, not meeting her eyes.
Where to?
To someone else
Ah, probably a younger woman, even though youre still spry at fortyage is just a number, Eleanor muttered, halfsarcastic as the reality sank in. I wont shed a tear; he wont see my tears anyway, she whispered to herself, then blurted out, How long have you been seeing her?
Almost a year, Mark said calmly. Seeing her surprise, he added, Thats your problem. If you never noticed, I must have been very good at keeping it hidden.
Youre really going or Eleanor blurted, her voice cracking.
Eleanor, are you not listening? Im off to another woman. Were expecting a child with her. We couldnt have one together, so Lucy will give me a son. You have one month to clear out of my flat. Where you go, how you managethats on you. Well be living with Lucy and the baby while she stays in a rented house.
And with that, Mark walked out. The walls seemed to close in on Eleanor; the flat was dead quiet. She flicked on the TV, hoping some voice would fill the void. Twelve years with Mark felt like a lifetime, and after about a week she was back on her feet.
Her late parents had left her a cottage in a Yorkshire village. Living alone in the sticks didnt appeal to her.
I cant live there, Eleanor thought. Its far from civilisation, no amenities, no work. Im thirtyfive, I dont want to spend my golden years in a thatchedroof shack. Ill sell it and use whatever I get to rent a council flat or a student hall, and let life sort the rest.
She sold the cottage the moment she arrived in the village. Her neighbour, Maggie Brown, was waiting on the doorstep.
Sweetheart, thank goodness youre here. We were about to drive into York to look for you.
Whats the story? Eleanor asked.
My relatives came down from the North. They want to buy your cottage. They need a tidy little place to knock down and rebuild. My sister and her husband would like it close by, Maggie explained.
Bless you, Maggie, thats exactly why I came. Let them have it, well just haggle over the price. Heres my number
Within ten days Eleanor had a modest sum in her handsjust enough for a crackedup cottage conversion. She put it toward a tiny single room in a council hall. The kitchen was communal, two other rooms were occupied by fellow tenants, and she claimed the third as her own. She called it a council flat.
The other tenants were quiet, respectable folk. Eleanor barely crossed paths with them, being at work from dawn till dusk. Thats where a romance with a colleague, James Patel, began to bloom. It all seemed fineat least to Eleanor.
A few days before International Womens Day, James dropped a bomb.
I need to think about a lot of things. Im not sure about my feelings. Lets take a break, he said.
Fine, take a break and why dont you disappear into the woods while youre at it? Eleanor snapped.
She trudged home that evening, thirtysix and with no time for pauses. She decided to drown her stress in food. She opened the fridge, grabbed a small slice of ham, andnothing. Her stomach growled.
Who took my ham? she shouted across the kitchen.
It was me, love, I tossed it out two days ago. It turned green and smelled odd. I thought you wouldnt eat it anywaywhy risk your health? said her neighbour, Dorothy Hargreaves, in a calm, slightly conspiratorial tone.
You dont get to decide what I eat! Eleanor fumed. You have no right to tell me what belongs to me.
Eleanor vented all her frustration on Dorothy. Not only had she split from Mark, lost her home, and now James was pulling a break, but now her neighbours were pilfering her food.
Dorothy, dear, dont be upset, said Arthur Bennett, the sixtyyearold gentleman from the next room. He was a silverhaired, bespectacled intellectual who spent his evenings in an old armchair, newspaper in hand. Dorothys cheeks flushed with irritation.
Eleanor is angry right now. Shes lashing out because someone else has upset her. Dont take it personally, Arthur said, still glued to his paper.
What do you know? Eleanor shot back. No one asked you for advice.
Believe me, I know a bit.
Then why are you still living in this dreary council flat? Eleanor demanded, now unstoppable.
She eventually calmed down, sat on the battered sofa and opened her laptop. She remembered buying that ham ages ago and wondered what it might have become. Shame washed over her.
Ive taken offence at Dorothy for nothing; shes actually been kind. My nerves are shot, Im on the brink of becoming a drama queen. They must think Im a nightmare. I need to apologise, she decided.
She found Dorothy in the kitchen.
I’m sorry, Dorothy. I dont know what hit me. So much has piled up Arthur was right, Eleanor said, her voice softer.
Dorothy smiled, gave Eleanor a hug. It happens, love. Come sit, well have tea with scones and sweets. And you should also apologise to Arthurhes been unfairly blamed. He was a professor once, taught at the university, lived in a grand flat in the city centre, loved his job. But Dorothy paused, sighing. His wife fell ill with a brain tumour. The doctors said it was too late. He took a chance on a clinic in Israel, borrowed a fortune, and went there. The operation went ahead but didnt improve things much. She lingered a bit longer, then passed. He quit his job, cared for her, and after she died sold his flat to clear the debts. Thats why hes here now.
Eleanors eyes glistened with tears.
Thank you for sharing that, she whispered. Ill apologise tomorrow.
The next day, after work, Eleanor knocked timidly on Arthurs door, clutching a small present.
Good evening, Arthur, she said, extending the gift. Please accept my apologies, for Gods sake. I didnt deserve to snap at you yesterday.
Arthur listened without interrupting. When she finished, he smiled.
What a pleasant surprise. Ill accept your gift and your apologyif youll join me for a little celebration. Its my birthday today.
Oh, happy birthday! And the presentperfect timing, Eleanor replied, relieved. How can I help?
Together with Dorothy they set the table. While arranging plates, Eleanor opened up about herself: how, as a naïve university student, shed once believed a married man, gotten pregnant, and hed taken her to the hospital and paid for everything. Theyd split, and shed never been able to have a child againperhaps thats why her ex walked out.
Just as the table was ready, a knock sounded at the door. A tall, smiling man in his forties stood there.
Good afternoon, Im Dorothys sonTommy Clarke, he introduced himself.
Come in, Tommy, Eleanor said, stepping aside.
The dinner conversation buzzed with jokes and wellwishes for Arthurs health. Tommy turned out to be a fascinating talker, full of stories. Hed been a geologist once, now a longhaul truck driver, so his tales were endless.
Eleanor could hardly believe that only the day before she knew none of these people, and now she was sharing a meal like old friends.
After a few hours, Arthur and Dorothy retired to their rooms. Tommy leaned over and said, Shall we take a walk? Tell me about yourself. Im a rare guest here. I have a flat in the city, Im often away, and my mum refuses to move from here. Ill tell you a secretshes a bit smitten with Arthur, and I think hes taken a shine to her too, he chuckled. Im hardly ever home, so Im looking for someone to settle down with. I was married when I was a geologist, and while I was away, someone else took my place.
Winter had just set in, the town blanketed in fresh snow, silence hanging in the air. Eleanor and Tommy walked for hours, warming each other with laughter. Eventually they said goodbye.
Three days later Tommy announced he was heading out on a weeklong delivery route.
Is that long? Eleanor asked.
No, just a week. Ill be back. Will you wait for me?
Of course, Ill be counting the days, she replied.
And so their romance blossomed, soon deepening into genuine love. They married, and a year later a little boy named Archie arrived. Whenever Tommy was away on a long haul, Eleanor and Archie would return to the council flat for a spell.
Days passed in a blur of waiting, but Dorothy and Arthur proved wonderful grandparents to Archieno better nannies could be found.
