Polly had the dubious honor of being someones mistress. Marriage hadnt been kind to heror rather, it hadnt shown up at all until she hit thirty and decided shed waited long enough for Mr. Right. She hadnt known Paul was married at first, but once he realized she was smitten, he didnt bother hiding it.
Not once did Polly scold him for it. Instead, she berated herself for the affair and her own weakness. She felt defective, as if her failure to bag a husband by societys deadline was some personal flaw. Though, honestly, she wasnt half badnot a stunner, but pleasant-looking, a tad plump, which probably added a few imaginary years.
The relationship was going nowhere. Polly didnt fancy staying the other woman, but the thought of ditching Paul terrified her. Being alone seemed worse.
Then, one day, her cousin Steve dropped by. He was in town for work and stopped in for a cuppa and a chinwag. Over lunch, Polly spilled the beans about her love life, tears and all.
Just then, her neighbor popped in, asking Polly to admire her new purchases. Polly dashed off for twenty minutesplenty of time for Paul to ring the doorbell. Steve answered, assuming Polly had forgotten her keys.
Paul froze at the sight of a burly bloke in joggers and a vest, mid-bite into a ham sandwich.
“Eris Polly in?” Paul managed.
“Pollys in the bath,” Steve lied smoothly.
“Sorry, who are you?” Paul stammered.
“Her husband. Common-law, for now.” Steve stepped closer, grabbing Paul by the collar. “You wouldnt be that married tosser shes been seeing, would you? Listen hereif I catch you round again, youll be taking the stairs headfirst. Got it?”
Paul scarpered before Steve could finish.
When Polly returned, Steve recounted the visit.
“Whatve you done?” she wailed. “Hell never come back now!”
“Damn right he wont,” Steve said. “Stop blubbering. Ive got a proper bloke for youwidower back home. Women flock to him, but hes not interested. Yet. Pack a bag when Im back from my trip. Were going.”
Polly spluttered, “I cant justwhat if hes awful? Its embarrassing!”
“Embarrassing is shacking up with a married man, not meeting a free one. Were going. Its my wifes birthday anyway.”
Days later, they were in the village. Steves wife, Lucy, had laid out a spread in the garden. Neighbors, friends, and Steves matewidower Alfieshowed up. Polly knew the others but had never met Alf.
After a hearty evening, Polly noted how quiet Alf was. “Poor lamb, still grieving his wife,” she thought. “Rare to find a man so tender.”
A week later, her doorbell rang. No one was expected. She opened it to find Alf clutching a bag.
“Hope you dont mind,” he mumbled. “Just in town for shopping. Thought Id drop by.”
Polly ushered him in, baffled but polite. Over tea, they chatted about the weather and market prices. As Alf left, he fumbled with his coat, then turned abruptly.
“Polly, Ive thought of nothing but you all week. Had to see you.”
She flushed. “We barely know each other.”
“I dont care. Am I revolting? Can we drop the ‘you’? Ive got a daughtereight years old. Shes with her gran now.”
“A daughter! Ive always wanted one,” Polly sighed.
Encouraged, Alf kissed her. When they pulled apart, her eyes shone.
“Was that awful?” he asked.
“No. It was… sweet. And honest. No stealing someone elses life.”
They met every weekend after. Two months later, they married and settled in the village. Polly worked at a nursery, and within a year, she had her own little girl. Both daughters were adored equally, and Polly and Alf grew happier with each passing year.
At family gatherings, Steve would nudge Polly, grinning. “See? Told you Id find you a proper husband. Look at youglowing! Never doubt your big cousin. Polly would laugh, swatting his arm, but shed already knownhed been right all along. And as she watched Alf spin their youngest on the lawn, her heart swelled not with longing, but with quiet certainty. She wasnt someones secret, wasnt a woman waiting in the shadows. She was home.
