She lived for him, and it was all for naught.
I recall how the words struck me then, as if echoing from some distant hall: What do you mean youre leaving? After twenty years of marriage? And what about me? Eleanor clutched the cuff of her husbands jacket with such force that the knuckles of her fingers turned white.
Emily, let go, Edward said calmly, snapping her hands away from his coat. Ive made up my mind. No more fits of hysteria. You know its over between us.
I understand nothing! she wailed. Just yesterday we were talking about a holiday, about fixing the bathroom, and now youre packing your things! Her voice rose to a shout.
The day before, she had truly been planning the summer. Edward gave vague nods, murmuring something indecipherable, then suddenly declared, Emily, Im going to Laura. At first she thought shed misheard. Then she hoped it was a joke. But the look in his eyes was grave.
Whos Laura? Eleanor managed to ask.
My colleague. Weve been seeing each other for six months, Edward replied as if he were simply mentioning a new teapot, not the dismantling of a family.
She sank into the armchair, staring at the man shed spent twenty years with, barely recognising him. Where had the shy, tender, caring Victor gone? In his place stood a stranger with cold eyes.
That night she lay awake, wrapped in an old dressing gown, replaying every day of their life together in her mind, hunting for the moment when the tide turned. How had she missed his cooling affection? How had she not seen a rival appear?
The next morning he stood in the hallway with a travel bag, ready to walk away, leaving her bewildered, stunned, crushed.
Edward, lets talk, she pleaded, her voice now soft, not a scream. Twenty years isnt something you can toss aside in an instant. Did something happen at work? Do you need time to think?
Theres nothing to think about, Emily, he said, not looking at her, fiddling with the zipper on his bag. I love another woman. Youre boring me. Youve always been a good housekeeper, but thats not enough. Laura understands me, shes exciting.
So Im just a cook and a laundress, then? bitterness rose in her.
I didnt say that. Dont twist my words, Edward snapped, pressing his lips together. Lets not make a scene. Ill call a solicitor, well sort out the divorce. Ill leave you the flat, dont worry.
I dont want the flat! I want a family! I want you! she raised her voice again.
Emily, stop. My taxi is waiting downstairs, he said, clicking the lock on his bag, casting a quick glance around as if checking hed taken everything, then heading for the door.
Edward! she lunged after him. If you walk out now, dont ever come back! Do you hear me? Never!
He turned on the doorstep: Youve always been a bit dramatic, Emily. Lets keep the farewells quiet. Ill collect the rest of my things next week.
The door slammed. Eleanor pressed herself against the wall, sliding down onto the floor. The house was suddenly empty. No tears, no pain, just a deafening void and bewilderment.
Her friend Clara burst in as soon as she heard the news. She took in the scene: her friend sitting forlorn in a chair, photographs strewn about, a shattered vase on the floor.
Emily, my dear, Clara said, embracing her. Let me make us a cup of tea and you can tell me everything.
While the kettle sang, Clara tidied up, gathered the shards, fetched a blanket and wrapped Eleanors trembling shoulders.
So he left for a younger woman? Clara asked once Emily had steadied herself.
Im not even sure, Eleanor shrugged. He said she was a colleague, some Laura.
Ah, the classic, Clara sighed. Grey beard, devil in the ribcage. (She meant the old saying about an old man and a new flame.)
No, hes still handsome, Eleanor protested. And that woman shes not that much younger than us.
What does it matter? Clara replied, frowning. What matters is that your husband swapped twenty years of a happy marriage for an affair with a colleague.
Maybe its my fault, Eleanor whispered, eyes reddening. Did I do something wrong? Did I miss something?
Dont blame yourself! Clara cut in. Ive seen how you lived all those years everything for the family, everything for him. You never breathed without his permission. Didnt you give up a career when he said a womans place is the home? Didnt you cook diet meals when the doctor warned about cholesterol? Didnt you cancel a trip to see your sister because he wanted to repaper the living room?
But thats normal, Eleanor murmured. Im his wife; I must look after him
Thats exactly it must. All your life you were must for someone: husband, motherinlaw, society. What about you? Did you ever have to be must for yourself?
She stared down, never having considered that. A pretty girl from a modest family, shed married early to the promising Edward, whose parentswelloff academicshad made it clear they didnt think she was equal to their son. To prove herself she left music school (her mother thought it frivolous) and took a secretarial job, which she later quit when Edward insisted she devote herself wholly to the home.
They never had childrenEleanor suffered a miscarriage in the third month of her first pregnancy, and doctors later told her her chances of carrying a child were slim. Edward was disappointed; hed longed for a son, but eventually settled, and Eleanor tried to fill the void with relentless care.
Maybe its for the best, Clara said, breaking the heavy silence. Its time you start living for yourself.
How can you say that? Eleanor snapped. What best? My life is over!
Nonsense! Youre fortytwo, still beautiful. You have everything ahead. Look at youyouve disappeared into him. Wheres the real Emily? The one who sang till her skin tingled? The one who dreamed of travelling? The one who wanted to help children in the orphanage?
Emily fell silent. Clara was right the true Emily lay somewhere in the past, buried beneath twenty years lived for another.
Alright, love, Clara said, standing. Ill stay the night. Tomorrow well figure out what to do next. For now, take a shower and have this. She handed her a tablet. Itll help you sleep.
Morning brought no relief. Emily felt shattered. Clara was already bustling in the kitchen, humming a jaunty tune while preparing breakfast.
Good morning, sleepyhead! Clara chirped, spotting her. Omelettes almost ready. Sit down, well have breakfast.
I dont want any, Emily shook her head. I cant swallow a bite.
Then well go to my country cottage, Clara declared, turning off the stove. Fresh air does wonders, and theres plenty to keep us busy.
No, thank you, Emily replied, weary. Ill stay. Maybe Edward will change his mind and come back
And youll take him back? After he dumped you for the first passerby? Clara asked, incredulous.
Laura isnt just a passerby, Emily muttered. He says shes interesting.
So youre boring, then? Clara snapped. Hes stuck in his work, has few friends, hobbies are the sofa and the telly. Youve served him for twenty years, guessed his every wish, and now hes bored!
Stop, Emily winced. Edward is educated, reads books, attends lectures
One lecture at a time, Clara teased. Did he ever take you with him?
I never wanted to, Emily admitted. I always had house duties
Of course, the borscht wont cook itself, Clara quipped. And Laura probably makes borscht and goes to those smart lectures.
Emily sighed. Perhaps her friend was right; perhaps shed herself made Edward uninterested by sinking so deep into domesticity, neglecting her own growth.
Lets go to the cottage, she said suddenly. Youre right, I need a distraction.
Claras cottage was a modest, cosy stone cottage surrounded by a garden awash in flowers, the only sound the birdsong. It was the perfect place for Emily to gather herself.
From dawn till dusk, Clara tended the vegetable patch; Emily helpedraking, watering, picking berries. The physical labour kept her thoughts away from Edwards betrayal.
One evening, as they sat on the verandah sipping tea made from fresh blackberries, Clara asked, Do you remember singing at music school? You had such a voice!
Its gone now, Emily waved her hand dismissively.
No, it isnt, Clara persisted. You buried that talent. Edward was always jealous of your music.
Stupid, Emily retorted. He thought singing in clubs was frivolous, not a profession.
You could have been a professional, Clara said stubbornly. Your teacher said you had huge potential. Remember Mr. Samuel Hart? He wanted to send you to the conservatoire.
What does that have to do with now?
It shows you buried yourself alive for a husband who never appreciated it.
Emily thought back. She had once dreamed of the stage, of music. The future had seemed bright until Victor arrived and everything changed.
I have an idea, Clara burst out. Lets go to the local community hall. They have live music on weekends, karaoke. Lets shake things up.
Are you mad? Emily gasped. Im almost fortythree, married well, I was married.
Exactly, Clara replied. Youre now a free woman. You can choosestay sobbing over the man who left you, or start a new life.
The hall was noisy and lively. Emily felt out of place amid the bright lights and thumping music, but with Claras encouragement and a glass of wine, she began to relax.
Nowkaraoke! Clara shouted as the host stepped onto the stage.
No, I wont, Emily protested.
You will, Clara said firmly. No more hiding.
Before Emily could protest further, she found herself on stage, microphone in hand. The opening lyrics of Ill Never Forget You from a old musical flickered on the screen. It had once been her favourite song.
She sang at first timidly, then with growing confidence; her voice gathered strength with each note. The room fell silent, the audience listening intently. When she finished, applause erupted.
Bravo! someone shouted.
She stepped down, legs trembling. A middleaged man in jeans and a checkered shirt approached.
Brilliant! he said. Havent heard a performance like that in ages. Are you a professional singer?
No, Im just a housewife, Emily replied, blushing.
Dont be ridiculous, the man chuckled. Im Michael, conductor of the town choir.
Emily, she offered her hand.
Pleasure, Emily. Listen, we have a vacant solo spot in the choir. Would you consider it?
Clara, standing nearby, nudged her with an elbow. Of course shell want to, right, love?
Emily hesitated. I havent sung in years
But you sing wonderfully, Michael replied. Think about it. Heres my card. Ill wait for your call.
Clara gushed as they walked back: Did you see the look on their faces? You were magnificent! Michaels a fascinating bloke, by the way.
Stop, Emily said, flustered. Im not looking for another man.
Why not? Clara replied. Youre a free woman now.
Im still married, legally.
Legally, Clara snorted. In fact, he tossed you for another woman. You have every right to start anew.
The thought of a new life fluttered in Emilys mind. She turned the card over in her hand, wondering if she could really join a choir and pursue the passion shed buried.
The next morning, a strange excitement rose in her. She called Michael and arranged a meeting.
The choir was amateur but very capable. They rehearsed three times a week at the community centre. Michael, after hearing her again, was delighted and offered her a few solo parts.
You have a wonderful voice, he said. Its a shame you didnt go professional.
Life took a different turn, Emily shrugged.
Never too late to change, Michael smiled.
Rehearsals became a breath of fresh air for Emily. She felt as if she were back in her youth, when music was her greatest joy. She also enjoyed meeting the other singers, a colourful bunch united by love of song.
A month passed. She still hadnt signed the divorce papersstill hoping Edward might return. She tried calling him; he either didnt answer or spoke coldly. The solicitor had emailed the paperwork, but she delayed signing.
One afternoon, after a rehearsal, she found Edward standing at her front door. Her heart thuddedhad he really come back?
Hello, he said. May I come in?
Of course, Emily replied quickly, opening the door. Come in.
He stepped inside, looking around. Did you remodel?
No, just rearranged the furniture, put up new curtains, Emily said. I havent just sat idle all this timeIve redecorated, cleared out the clutter, made space.
It looks different, Edward noted. You havent signed the papers yet. My solicitor is pressing.
Emily felt something shatter inside. He wasnt back to fix things; he was there to push the divorce through.
I havent had the chance, she stammered. Ive been busy.
Busy with what? Edward raised an eyebrow. Youre not working.
Im singing in a choir, she replied, a note of defiance in her voice. Three rehearsals a week, plus performances.
What? A choir? he was taken aback. Thats frivolous.
It matters to me, she said coldly. I even have solo parts now.
Edward snorted. How long have you been at that?
Nearly a month.
And what led you there?
Clara helped, Emily said, not wanting to go into detail. If youre only here for the documents, I wont keep you. Ill sign and send them to your solicitor.
Actually, Edward said suddenly, I wanted to talk. Maybe maybe we could have coffee?
Emily headed to the kitchen, heart pounding, wondering if perhaps he had truly changed. As she brewed coffee, Edward watched her, a faint smile playing on his lips.
You look thinner, he remarked.
A bit, she replied, setting the cup before him. What did you want to discuss?
He hesitated, gathering his thoughts. You know, things with Laura arent as smooth as I thought. Shes always out with friends, has her own interests. At home theres chaos, she doesnt cook every day
Emily barely suppressed a smile. The picture was clear nowLaura wasnt the tidy housewife shed imagined.
So what do you want from me? she asked.
Maybe we could try again? he ventured. I havent filed the divorce yet.
Those papers from the solicitor?
It was just to scare you, he waved his hand. Emily, you love me. Twenty years isnt a joke.
No, Edward, you dont understand, she said calmly. Ive learned a lot this month. I lived for you, and you never valued that. You left when you wanted something new, never thinking of my feelings. Now that its inconvenient, you want to return.
You dont get it! Edward shouted. I was wrong! I love you!
No, Edward, you dont understand, she replied, shaking her head. You love the comfort I created. You love being served. You never wanted the real me, the one who sings, who wants to learn, who craves the world beyond these walls.
Edward stared at her as if she were mad. Emily, stop. Weve been together twenty years. Yes, I behaved like a fool, but now things will be different. I promise!
Yes, things will be different, Emily smiled, but not with you. Ill sign the papers and send them to your solicitor. Now I must go to rehearsal.
She rose from the table, signalling the end of the conversation.
Youll regret this! Edward called as he headed for the door. You wont belong in that choir! Youll just be a singer for show and then come back to me. I wont accept you!
Emily said nothing. As the door shut, she lingered a moment, listening to the quiet inside. It felt light, calm. She walked to the mirror, fixed her hair, brushed her lips with a tint of colour, and smiled at her reflection.
Lived for him, and it was all for naught, she thought, and turned to get ready for rehearsal, where new songs and new friends awaited. Perhaps even a new loveMichael had shown a keen interest latelybut that, she knew, was a story forAnd as the choirs anthem swelled, Emily realized at last that her own heart had found its rhythm beyond the shadows of the past.
