If anyone had warned Emma Clarke that she would become the source of gossip and a wedge between her father and his son, she would have demanded they take it back. Emma was a simple country girl, but she could stand up for herself when needed. Yet the events unfolded exactly as they did, and even in the worst nightmare she could not have imagined that happiness would require her to endure seven circles of torment.
Emma had only just arrived in London, despite begging her mother not to send her to her aunt. At the family council it was decided that Emma alone would go to Grace Thompson, for there was no one else to look after the house. Thomas Clarke, the patriarch, had been a tractor driver, and now the fields kept him endlessly busy. Mary, his wife, worked the farm, while the children were either at school or in nursery.
With a small suitcase packed with the essentials, Emma set off for her aunt, a woman she had seen only once, at a christening. They said Grace, because of her prickly temperament, had never managed to live peacefully with any of her three husbands. She had no children, and thus no heirs; Emmas parents secretly hoped she would bequeath the flat to her niece. That is indeed what happened, but Grace treated Emma kindly enough, yet kept her at arms length. She never inquired about Emmas life and guarded her own world fiercely. One might ask why she kept Emma at all. The answer was simple: lately she feared dying alone, unnoticed, and left to rot until a foul smell alerted the neighbours and a constable was called.
Grace had long battled an incurable illness, knowing she would not live much longer. To her, Emma was a convenient ticket to a timely funeral and wake. Emma understood her aunts anxieties and never asked unnecessary questions. She washed, cooked, cleaned, shoppedeverything required of her. With no friends, the girl who was accustomed after a hard day to sit with peers on the village bench grew lonely. In the city she rarely left the flat; the balcony became her refuge, where she could watch young mothers strolling with their children or elderly women gathering at the entrance to discuss matters of the day. Emmas life seemed split in two: the unpleasant part, scrambling to fulfil her aunts whims, and the pleasant part, which began when Grace fell asleep after taking painkillers. Then Emma could brew a fragrant coffee and linger on the balcony, savoring a wellearned peace.
Soon she met a charming neighbour, Andrew Hart, who often appeared on the balcony at the same hour. At first they nodded politely, pretending not to notice each other, then exchanged greetings, and eventually their exchanges resembled a youthful infatuation. Both hurried to the balcony hoping to catch a glimpse of the other and spend a few moments together. By the time Grace passed away, Emma and Andrew were already close, having confessed their feelings. After the funeral Emma did not return to the countryside but stayed in London, explaining to her parents that she intended to continue her studies, though they sensed the true motive and chose not to argue.
Confident in her love and in Andrews, Emma readily accepted his courtship and his proposal. Andrew lived alone; his mother had remarried and moved to America, while his father, a doctor, worked overseas and visited only once a year on holiday. Their wedding was modest but joyous, and the couple felt they would now walk hand in hand through life.
Andrew followed his fathers footsteps, training as a doctor and becoming a junior surgeon at a city hospital. Emma, wanting to match her husband, enrolled in a nursing course after a short period of study. She imagined the two of them working side by side, saving patients, but not every dream came true.
Emma, Fathers arriving in a week! You must be ready, Andrew announced.
Really? What does he like? We need groceries, a menu, a thorough cleaning
Relax, Emma! Hes not a king from abroad, just my simple dad, Andrew laughed.
Still, Emma worried. She had seen pictures of himtall, tanned, with a cheeky grin that suggested a Spaniard or a Turkbut appearances could deceive. He might be a snob or a perfectionist, finding fault in everything. Or perhaps Andrew would decide she was unworthy and leave her. Yet when Edward Whitaker stepped through the door, he proved a different man. He kissed his son and daughterinlaw, apologized for missing the wedding, and presented a slew of gifts. He praised the stew Emma had prepared, saying it was the best hed tasted in years, then left to visit old friends. A month passed swiftly before Edward returned to his overseas posting, leaving the young couple alone.
Emma sometimes wondered why her fatherinlaw seemed to swap one role for another. He cooked splendidly, even rising early to make delicate crêpes that most housewives could not master, and helped Emma with chores, offering his son advice:
Good lad, youve got a fine wife Look after Emma, help her in everything, or youll lose what you have.
Andrew smiled silently, thinking that Emma would never abandon him; she was not the type to walk away, no matter what. Even if she forgave his infidelity, she would carry on as if nothing had happened. Rural life, he thought, was simplerpeople endured for their children. He imagined this as the plain truth, so when a nurse began to flirt with him, he slipped into a new affair, indifferent to his wifes lingering toxemia and her inability to cook. He would eat his fill, dine with the nurse, drive her home, and return exhausted, feigning fatigue.
Emma, absorbed by her own sensations, hardly noticed the changes in Andrew. She rejoiced at the prospect of motherhood yet feared she could not cope. Then the child arrived, and responsibilities multiplied. Milk ran short, the baby wailed through the night. Andrew, irritable, demanded Emma calm the infant while he retired to the lounge. When Edward visited again, he barely recognised Emma. The onceradiant, laughing woman had become gaunt and pale, a shadow of herself; her son had grown thin, his evenings later.
Father, could you help your wife? Edward asked.
She spends all day at home, perhaps she could look after the child, Emma replied.
Anyone else entered your life? Edward probed.
Whats it to you? Emma snapped.
I see youre cheerful when youre away, but irritable when you return, he said.
Just nothing serious, Father, she muttered.
Make sure nothing serious turns into a disaster, he warned.
Emma, its your own doing. You no longer look like a woman. Look at your hair, your face, he chided.
Its your fault. She hardly rests, he retorted.
Im off, work cant wait, Emma shouted.
Andrew, hearing none of this, believed Emma should manage everything at home, while Edward alone seemed to understand her without words, offering any help he could.
Emma, go to bed, Ill watch the baby, Edward suggested.
What if she gets hungry? Emma asked.
Cant you mix a formula and feed her? Remember, I raised a bit of a rogueyour husband, he joked.
Thanks to her fatherinlaw, Emma finally slept a little. Edward walked the baby, fed and soothed her whenever Emma was occupied, giving her a chance to rest. She thanked him constantly, praying that God would grant him a partner with whom he could find his own happiness. It was a heavy burden to be alone; she had Andrew and their daughter, while Edward remained far away.
Gradually Emma found herself thinking more of Edward, who had become more than a fatherinlaw: a father, brother, friend, confidante. He listened to any topic, offered support, and eased her sorrowful thoughts about a future without him.
Emma, you look downcast.
Just a bit
Here, take this money. Go to the salon, have a haircut, colour, makeup, manicure. Then shop for yourself. Dont worry about the child; Ill look after her.
Emma, brightened, planted a quick kiss on Edwards cheek and hurried to fulfill his instructions. By evening she returned, beautiful and content. On a whim she thought of surprising Andrew, veering toward the clinic where he worked.
Good afternoon, Im here to see Dr. Andrew Whitaker.
Hes in, please come in, a nurse replied.
Emma imagined his delight at her new look, but what she saw stopped her heart. A young nurse sat on his lap, her coat halfunbuttoned, clearly not for a routine examination. Emma fled the room, hailed a cab, and wept all the way home.
What happened, love? her daughter asked.
Andrew is cheating
Who told you?
I saw it with my own eyes, Emma sobbed.
Edward wrapped his arms around her, stroking her hair.
Cry if you must; it will ease the pain. Ill speak to him, let him come home.
I cant stay here. Ill take the child and leave.
Dont be foolish, Emma. Think of the child. Rural life is hard; youll have no work and a baby to feed.
No one had held Emma so tightly for years. Though she and Andrew had been sleeping in separate rooms for months, the scent of his cologne and his gentle words swirled in her mind. Edward, too, felt an intense pull toward herher vulnerability, her fragility. He lifted her as if to protect her, carrying her to the bedroom, and she offered no resistance. They now shared a secret, a closeness the world could not guess, especially as Andrew, distracted by his own affairs, failed to notice.
Emma felt both shame for her fleeting weakness and joy that she was cherished. She compared Andrew with Edward, and sadly, Andrew fell short in every respect. Then she discovered she was pregnant again. Unsure what to do, she recalled that they had only been intimate a few months before, and Andrew would surely suspect infidelity.
What are you worrying about? Its wonderful! I never thought I could become a father again at fifty. Its up to you nowwill you marry me? Edward asked.
What about Andrew?
What about Andrew? I know we both erred, but he is also at fault. He will leave eventually; I love you and cannot live without you.
After their divorce, Emma and Edward married and moved to his overseas home. Their families could not comprehend the decision; the village whispered that she had only pretended modesty. Andrew, for his part, kept muttering about how badly his wife and father had treated him. Yet they cared little; they were happy to have found each other and treasured every moment they shared.
