Rain drummed against the windowpane, tears of the sky sliding down the glass as Valentina listened to Annie Lennoxs haunting voice: *”Whats to be done, youve found another love”* Unbidden tears spilled from her eyes, unnoticed. She could never hear that song without it twisting like a knife in her ribs, a melody too close to the story of her own life.
Bitterness, sharp and undeserved, sears the soul when helplessness takes root. Sometimes, comfort is sought in the strangest placeseven in the lyrics of a song.
Valentina lived in a sleepy market town where everyone knew each others business. Shed arrived years ago from the countryside to study nursing and never left.
“Dont come back after college, love,” her mother had told her. “Not because we dont want youbut theres nothing for you here. The young all leave. Stay in the city. God willing, youll find a local lad and settle down.”
Valentina agreed. “Ive thought the same, Mum. Hate to leave you, but its time to stand on my own feet.”
So she stayed. Found work as a nurse at the local hospital. Pretty, with thick chestnut hair and piercing blue eyes, she turned heads without trying. One morning, as she entered the mens ward with an IV, she noticed a young man watching herhis arm in a cast, his gaze sharp with curiosity.
“Morning,” she greeted the room, but to Michael, it felt like shed spoken only to him.
Hed been admitted the night before, another nurse on duty then. But todaytoday, there she was. Michael worked at the towns lone factory, sent there fresh out of university as a junior engineer. A slip on the factory floor, an awkward flail of limbs, and nowa broken arm.
Valentina fixed his IV with practised ease while he studied her, already certain he had to know her better. She didnt speak, but her glances betrayed the same interest.
“All done. Rest up,” she said.
“Youll come back, wont you?” he blurted. “Whats your name?”
“Im on shift, so yes. Its Valentinabut everyone calls me Val.”
As she left, Michael grinned. *Valentina.* Suddenly, the broken arm didnt seem so bad.
She liked him too, though shed never show it first. But his glanceslingering, deliberatetold her enough.
*Doesnt mean anything,* she told herself. *A man like thathandsome, cleverprobably has someone already.*
She watched his visitors. Friends, colleaguesbut no girls. That settled her nerves. Meanwhile, Michael daydreamed of walks together once discharged.
Hed linger in the hallway when she was late with his meds. Evenings, theyd sit and talk.
“Not from here,” he admitted. “Came for the job. Lived in digs at first, but the factory gave me a flat. Needs work, but its mine.”
“Lucky,” Val said. “Im stuck in nurses lodgings. Thin walls, rowdy housemates.”
When Michael was discharged, he still visited the clinicand her. They courted slowly. Too slowly. Two years passed before he finally proposedno fanfare, just a quiet, “Val, weve been at this ages. Lets get married.”
She laughed, relieved. “Alright then.”
The wedding was modesther mother came from the village, his two sisters from up north. Vals friends envied her. “Landed yourself a proper catchclever, handsome, *and* doting!”
They moved into his two-bedroom flat, fixed it up together, then had two girls, one after the other.
“I want a son,” Michael would say, but Val refused. Two was enough.
Life was good. He earned decentlyholidays to the seaside, summers visiting her mothers farm, mushroom picking, haymaking. Even winters held charm, sledging with the girls.
Thenthe rot.
His job was demanding. Call-outs on weekends left him snarling. “Sod thisIm quitting. Cant even rest on my days off!”
His boss fought to keep himMichael was brilliant. But he left anyway, took a role with travel.
“Val, no choice. The pays too good.”
She sighed. “Suppose well manage. Its not months away, is it?”
At first, it wasnt. But soonthree days here, a week there. Then the drinking started. Late returns. Excuses.
Fifteen years in, Val confronted him. “Michael, whats got into you? You used to scorn men like this!”
“Piss off. Lifes dullIm livening it up.”
Small towns have long tongues.
“Val,” her colleague Tanya murmured one day, “you *must* know. My mate Ritas been seeing him. Sauna nights. He visits her *before* coming home.”
Vals stomach lurched. “Youre joking.”
“Oh, I wish.”
More whispers followed. Fights erupted.
“Fed up with your nagging!” hed roar. “Ill live as I like!”
The final straw? He hit her.
“I want a divorce,” Val said, all tears spent.
That evening, she found him packing as Annie Lennoxs voice drifted from the telly: *”Whats to be done, youve found another love”* The words cut deep.
He zipped his bag. “Im leaving. The flats yoursyoull need it with the girls.” The door clicked shut behind him.
She thought shed cried dry. She was wrong.
Time passed.
“Ill file,” she decided. *What am I now? Not a wife, not a widow.*
Some pitied her. Others feigned sympathy, hiding smirks. But Val endured.
Years later, her girls grownthe eldest married, moved awaythe youngest vowed, “Mum, Ill never leave you alone.”
Val smiled. “Lifes unpredictable, love. What if you meet someone?”
She did.
“Mum,” the girl giggled later, “you were right! Paul proposedwere mad for each other!”
Val hugged her. “Wonderful!”
But hesitation lingered.
“Mum were moving. To Manchester. More opportunities.”
Val masked her ache. “Go, love. Visit often. Pauls a good man.”
At the wedding, Michaelstill in touch with his younger girlpulled Paul aside.
“Listen, son. Stick with one family. However rough it getsstay. Learn from my mistakes.”
Val overheard. A grim thought struck her: *Hes tasted regret too.*
Now, retired, she sees him sometimesboth grey, both weathered. The past, once a raw wound, is just a scar. Mostly, shes indifferent. Occasionally, she even smiles.
But that song*”Whats to be done, youve found another love”*still pricks her eyes.
Not grief. Just sentiment.
