Id known Blythe Hartley for twenty years, but that didnt stop her from clinging to the lapel of my jacket as if trying to rip the very fibres from its cloth.
Bly, let go, I said, steady as ever, and I slipped my hands free of her grip. Ive made up my mind. Stop with the tantrums. You know its over between us.
What do you mean? We were just talking about the summer holiday yesterday, about the new bathroom tiles! she snapped, her voice rising to a shout.
Just the day before shed been sketching out plans for the coming season. Id nodded absentmindedly, gave a vague reply, then suddenly blurted, Bly, Im leaving for Claire. At first she thought Id misheard. Then she wondered if it was a joke. I was dead serious.
Whos Claire? she asked, her throat tightening.
My colleague. Weve been seeing each other for six months, I answered as calmly as if we were discussing a new television set, not the collapse of a marriage.
Bly lowered herself into the armchair, staring at the man shed shared two decades with and not recognising him any longer. The shy, tender, caring James shed known was gone, replaced by a stranger with cold eyes.
That night she didnt sleep a wink. She sat in the kitchen wrapped in an old dressing gown, replaying each day of their life together, trying to pinpoint when things went wrong. How had she missed the cooling of his affection? When had the rival appeared?
By morning he stood in the hallway with a travel bag, ready to walk out, leaving her bewildered, stunned, crushed.
James, please, lets talk, Bly begged, her voice no longer a scream but a pleading whisper. You cant just throw away twenty years in an instant. Something happened at work? Do you need time to think?
Theres nothing to think about, Bly, I said, not even looking at her, fiddling with the zip on my suitcase. I love another woman. Im bored with you. You were a good housekeeper, but that isnt enough. Claire understands me, shes interesting.
So Im just a cook and a laundress now? anger boiled over.
I never said that. Dont twist my words, I snapped, tightening my lips. And spare me the theatrics. Ill call a solicitor, well file for divorce. Ill leave you the flat, dont worry.
I dont want the flat! I want the family! I want you! she shouted again.
Bly, stop. My taxis waiting downstairs.
I clicked the lock on the bag, gave the room a quick glance to make sure I wasnt forgetting anything, then headed for the door.
James! Bly lunged after me. If you walk out now, dont ever come back! Understand? Never!
I turned at the threshold, Youre always so dramatic, Bly. Lets keep the scenes to a minimum. Ill collect the rest of my things next week.
The door slammed. Bly collapsed against the wall and slid down to the floor. The house was empty. No tears, no painjust a deafening void and a baffling sense of loss.
Molly Greene, Blys best friend, burst in as soon as she heard the news. She took in the scene: Bly slumped in a chair, photos scattered, a shattered vase on the carpet.
Bly, love, Molly said, wrapping her arms around her. Let me make you a cup of tea and you tell me everything.
While the kettle boiled, Molly straightened the room, gathered the broken pieces, fetched a blanket and draped it over Blys shivering shoulders.
Whos this Claire you mentioned? Molly asked once Bly steadied herself.
I dont even know, Bly shrugged. He said shes a colleague. Some woman named Claire.
Ah, the classic, Molly sighed. A grey beard in the backold habit, new fling.
Theres no grey at all! James looks great, and that woman isnt even that much younger, Bly protested.
What does it matter? The point is your husband swapped twenty years of happiness for a flirt with a coworker, Molly replied, her brow furrowed.
Maybe its my fault, Bly whispered, eyes reddening. Did I do something wrong? Did I miss something?
Dont blame yourself! Molly cut in. Ive seen how you lived all those yearseverything for the family, everything for him. You never breathed without permission. You gave up your career when he said a woman belongs in the home. You cooked his diet when the doctor warned about cholesterol. You cancelled a trip to see your sister because he wanted new wallpaper in the sitting room.
But thats normal, Bly muttered. Im his wife, I have to look after him
Exactlyhave to, Molly said, shaking her head. All your life youve been shouldto husband, to motherinlaw, to society. And to yourself? Have you ever been should to yourself?
Bly lowered her gaze. She had never asked that. A pretty girl from a modest background, shed married early to James, whose parents, welloff academics, never saw her as an equal. To prove herself she quit music schoolher motherinlaw thought it frivolous and James backed her. She became a secretary in a respectable firm, then gave that up when James decided she should be a fulltime housewife.
They never had childrenBly suffered a miscarriage at three months and doctors warned the chances of a successful pregnancy were slim. James was disappointed; hed wanted a son. Over time he settled, and Bly tried to fill the void with endless caring.
Maybe its for the best, Bly, Molly said, trying to lift the gloom. Its time you start living for you.
How can you say that? My life is over! Bly cried.
Nonsense! Youre fortytwo, still beautiful. Look at yourselfyouve disappeared into him. Wheres the real Bly? The one who sang until the hairs stood on end? The one who wanted to travel? The one who dreamed of helping children in care homes?
Silence fell. The real Bly had been buried under years of living someone elses script.
Alright, love, Molly stood. Ill stay over tonight. Tomorrow well figure out what to do next. For now, take a shower and have this, she handed over a tablet. Itll help you sleep.
Morning brought no relief. Bly felt shattered. Molly was already bustling in the kitchen, humming as she cracked eggs.
Good morning, sleepyhead! Molly chirped, spotting her. Omelettes almost ready. Sit down, well have breakfast.
I dont want any, Bly shook her head. I cant swallow a bite.
Fine, Molly said, turning off the stove. Lets pack a bag and head to my cottage. Fresh air does wonders, and theres plenty to keep you busy.
Ill stay, Bly replied, weary. What if James comes back
And youd welcome him? After he dumped you for the first woman he sees? Molly shot back. Claire isnt a fling; he says shes interesting.
So you think Im boring? Molly retorted. He knows nothing about interesting people. Hes glued to his work, friends are scarce, hobbies are the sofa and the telly. Youve catered to his every whim for twenty years, and now hes bored.
Stop it, Bly winced. James is educated, reads books, goes to lectures
He goes to one lecture a year, Molly quipped. Did he ever take you with him?
I never wanted to, Bly admitted. Housework always came first
Of course the borscht wont cook itself, Molly snorted. And Claire probably makes borscht while attending those intellectual gatherings.
Bly sighed, realizing maybe she bore some responsibility for his loss of interestshed sunk into domesticity, forgotten selfdevelopment.
Lets go to the cottage, she said suddenly. Youre right, I need a distraction.
Mollys cottage was a tiny cosy bungalow with a garden bursting into bloom, birdsong the only soundtrack. They spent the day digging, planting, harvesting berrieshard physical work that kept Blys mind off James and his betrayal.
One evening, perched on the veranda with tea brewed from fresh blackcurrants, Molly asked, Remember how you used to sing at the music school? You had a lovely voice.
Thats in the past, Bly waved off.
No, you havent lost it, youve just buried it. James always got jealous when you sang.
Ridiculous, Bly scoffed. He thought singing in clubs was a hobby, not a career.
You could have gone professional, Molly insisted. Your teacher said you had huge potential. Remember Mr. Simon? He wanted you at the conservatoire.
What are you getting at?
That you buried yourself alive for a man who never appreciated you, Molly said. You need to dig yourself out.
Bly thought back to her teenage dream of the stage, of a bright musical future, before James turned her world upside down.
Ive got an idea, Molly said suddenly, eyes bright. Lets go to the local community hall this weekend. They have live music, karaoke. Lets shake things up.
Are you mad? Bly gasped. Im almost fortythree, married well, I was married.
Exactly, Molly replied. Now youre single. You can choosestay sobbing over a man who left or start living anew.
The community hall was noisy, neon lights flashing, teenagers shouting. Bly felt out of place, but after a few drinks and Mollys encouragement, she loosened up.
Now for karaoke! Molly announced as the host took the stage.
No, no, I wont, Bly protested.
You will, Molly said firmly. Enough hiding.
Before Bly could protest further, she was on stage, microphone in hand. The opening lines of Ill Never Forget You flickered on the screenonce her favourite song.
She sang hesitantly at first, then her voice grew stronger with each note. The room fell silent, listening. When she finished, applause erupted.
A man in his thirties, wearing jeans and a checkered shirt, approached. Brilliant! Have you ever considered singing professionally? he asked.
Im just a housewife, Bly blushed.
I doubt it, he chuckled. Im Michael, I run the local choir. Weve got a soprano spot open. Interested?
BlyBlythe Hartley, she introduced, shaking his hand. Ill think about it.
Molly nudged her. Youre going to love it, Bly! And Michaels a decent bloke, too.
The next morning Bly woke without the cloud of tears that had hung over her for weeks. She called Michael, arranged a meeting, and started attending choir rehearsals three times a week at the village community centre. He praised her talent, offered her solo parts.
Meanwhile, Jamess solicitor had sent over the divorce papers, but Bly kept them untouched, hoping he might come round. She tried calling him; he either didnt answer or spoke coldly. The solicitors email sat unread.
One afternoon, after rehearsal, Bly opened her front door to find James standing there, a briefcase in hand.
Hi, he said, can I come in?
Sure, she replied, stepping aside. He looked around, noticing the new curtains.
Youve redecorated? he asked.
Ive just moved the furniture, put up new curtains, Bly said, keeping it short. Shed been busy changing the interior, discarding the old, making space for herself.
It looksdifferent, he remarked. You havent signed the papers yet. My lawyers been pushing.
…I havent had the time, she muttered. Ive been singing.
You sing? he looked bewildered. In a choir?
Yes, with a local group. We meet three times a week.
He scoffed. Thats just a hobby. Not serious.
It matters to me, Bly said, voice steady. I even have solo parts now.
He snorted, And how long have you been at it?
Almost a month.
And why now?
Molly got me in, she replied, not wanting to go into detail. If youre just here for the papers, I wont keep you.
He hesitated, then said, Actually, I wanted to talk. Maybe we could have a coffee?
Bly headed to the kitchen, heart pounding. Could he have changed his mind? She brewed two cups, set one on the table, and watched him stare at her.
You look thinner, he said oddly.
A bit, she answered, handing him the mug. What did you want to talk about?
He swallowed, then said, Things with Claire arent great. Shes always out with friends, has her own life. She doesnt cook, she doesnt tidy up
Blys lips curled into a faint smile. So you miss the domestic chaos you left behind?
James stared at his coffee, then continued, I think maybe we could try again. I havent filed for divorce yet.
And the solicitors papers?
That was just a scare, he waved his hand. Bly, you love me. Twenty years isnt a joke.
Bly looked at him, feeling nothingno joy, no relief, not even bitterness. Just a cold clarity.
No, James, she said calmly. Im not going to try again.
What? Youre refusing? he asked, as if hearing the question for the first time.
Yes, she replied firmly. Ive learned a lot this month. I lived for you, and you never valued that. You left when you wanted something new, never thinking about my feelings. Now that its inconvenient, you want to come back.
You dont understand! he shouted. I was wrong! I love you!
No, James, you dont get it, Bly said, shaking her head. You love the comfort I created for you. You love being served. You never wanted the real me, the one who sings, who wants to learn, who wants a world beyond these walls.
James stared at her, bewildered. What are you talking about? Which real me?
The one who loves music, who wants to grow, who wants to see beyond this flat, she said.
Bly, stop. Im your husband, weve been together twenty years, he pleaded. I was a fool, but Ill change. I promise.
Maybe everything will change, but not with me, she smiled. Ill sign the papers and send them to your solicitor. Now I have to get to rehearsal.
She rose from the table, ending the conversation.
Youll regret this! James shouted as he headed for the door. You wont be needed in your choir! Youll be a laughingstock!
Bly said nothing. When the door slammed, she stood for a moment, listening to the quiet that now filled the house. It felt light, calm. She walked to the mirror, brushed her hair, touched up her lipstick, and smiled at her reflection.
Lived for him. And it was a waste, she thought, and headed out to the choir, where new songs and new friends awaited. Perhaps a new love, tooMichael had shown a keen interest lately. But that, she mused, was a story for another day.
