Eleanor knew everything. Of course she did she was no longer a girl of twenty, not even in her thirties, and age had given her a keen eye.
She was weary of the endless solitude, tired of shouldering that invisible cart.
Lucy, why is it always this way? What is wrong with me? Am I a bore? Do I smell, or am I too forward? Perhaps I simply lack love and tenderness.
She asked herself what she could have done differently. Everyone around her the stout, the thin, the drinkers, the beautiful and the plain all seemed to have a life of their own. And she? She stood alone.
Listen, Eleanor Lucy said, not daring to laugh. My gran used to speak of a thing, Im not sure how to name it a crown of spinsterhood.
Eleanor waved a hand dismissively. What, are we back in the Middle Ages?
Lucy sprang from her seat. Dont you doubt it? My thirdcousin once slipped that very crown off, thanks to the same old crone.
What crone? Eleanor asked, her tone flat, merely to prompt a response.
Never mind. Ill ring my sister Nora now; shes the one who helped lift that crown. Ill find out everything.
A few minutes later Lucy was scribbling on a napkin, her tongue poking the tip.
Alright, Nora, love. How are you? Still planning a wedding? And George? Oh, hes gone. Fine, Ill be there She hung up, a brief silence settling.
Whats happened? Eleanor inquired.
Nothing actually, yes. I need a wedding gift again; my sisters getting married the fifth time now. That crone must have really taken the crown off her. Heres the address. Will you come?
Eleanor shrugged. She eventually set off, but the crone, turning on her heel, sent her back emptyhanded.
Theres no crown for you.
How could there be? I
What? Youve been choosing the wrong men. The first left you with a childs heart, a rogue who promised you everything while already married.
You didnt know?
Did you think something was wrong with you? It was him, a scoundrel, who left you to the weeds. No need to know more, he wasnt yours.
The second? Eleanor smirked.
The second wasnt yours either, the crone affirmed. The third neither.
What third? I have no one.
Youll see, the crone said. Your man will appear when you stop waiting. Hell be yours, though not wholly. A girl cant change that, but trust him. Hell be steady, and youll find the happiness you crave. Perhaps youll even have him all to yourself just be patient, dont rush.
Go then and tell your friend she must see a doctor, give her these herbs, and have her visit a lady doctor. Tell her the crone sent the word.
That conversation lingered in Eleanors memory for many years. Desperate to find her own happiness, she visited the crone, a reputed wise woman of the village. As the crone had warned, everything unfolded as foretold.
She later met a fourth suitor; the crones words faded from her mind. He was kind, treated her daughter well, yet something always seemed to slip away from them, as if they vanished without explanation.
Then Eleanor encountered James. At first she didnt realize he was the one. The flat above hers had stood empty for years. When Eleanor moved in with her little girl, the neighbour, Aunt Kate, mentioned that the landlord roamed the town, stopping at his mothers house now and then.
One day, curiosity got the better of her; she peered through the ajar door of the flat next door and saw a man pasting wallpaper. She slipped away quietly, assuming the landlord had returned.
Their first real meeting came a week later in the hallway. The doors in those cramped flats were oddly linked opening one would lock the other unless the first was shut. Eleanor, hurrying to work, tried to open her door and couldnt. The neighbour apologised hurriedly, closed his flat, and Eleanor heard faint, swift footsteps.
Later, Eleanor blocked the neighbours exit, then they met again on the communal landing, where the neighbour let her be the first to pass through.
One afternoon James helped Clara lift her bicycle, and Eleanor baked some scones and delivered them to him. They later met in the park, where Jamess son, about Claras age, joined them; the children made fast friends, while Eleanor and James chatted merrily.
Six months on, James asked her out, then introduced her to his family. They began to live together, but before that he told his story.
Eleanor, Im not a twentyyearold lad, nor a brute. Im a man, a grown one with my own views and temperament. I promise, if you stay with me, I wont be unfaithful. Ill do the work of a husband, help, earn a living, I dont drink or smoke. No bad habits. Ill respect and value you Im sorry, I cant love you as I should, Ive tried.
Im not a stone, Eleanor. I have feelings for you, though not the ones you hope for. Im a flawed man, the one my wife once called a rude beast. Thats why I explain everything, lest you think Im just playing the hero.
He went on, speaking of a youthful love for a girl who made him feel warm when near her. That love never blossomed; she saw him as a friend, a brother. He tried for years to push her from his heart, to no avail.
Should I have spoken to her? Eleanor asked, her voice strained.
I talked, tried to explain why we should be together, said I loved her more than life itself. She listened, then said shed always been a friend, even a sister. She asked why I left Inna.
Eleanor answered honestly: I didnt love her.
And what of that? the woman shrugged. Shes pretty, smart, lively. You dont love her thats fine.
He realised then that he could not live with someone he didnt love, yet he forced himself into a marriage he could not feel.
He eventually married. I didnt wander like a mummy, I lived, laughed, like everyone else. But thinking of the woman I truly love feels like a curse. For some love is a gift; for me its a punishment. I feel broken, unable to give a woman happiness.
He urged Eleanor to decide for herself whether she could live without bright passion, because his own wife could not give it. Dont answer now, think.
Eleanor thought, then a week later she met Jamess large family jovial, lively folk who welcomed both her and her daughter warmly. She feared being seen as a substitute, but all went well. She never regretted marrying James; he proved reliable, and most of her worries about love and desire faded. Occasionally, perhaps twice a year, she caught a wandering look in Jamess eyes, as if he remembered someone else, but it never disturbed their life together.
Sometimes that lingering glance would trouble her. She placed her hand over her heart and thought, What woman doesnt dream of a man who might change for her? She had married not for a great love, but grew to love him as a steady companion, an ideal husband in his own right.
One spring morning, James stood by the window, washing it while the sun beat down after the long winter. He sang softly as he worked, and then entered the room, admiring Eleanor. He felt free, as if meeting his longlost love had lifted a weight.
Did something happen, James? Eleanor asked.
Nothing, just everything feels right.
He lifted her gently, spun her around the room, and danced.
Eleanor, you have no idea how wonderful this feels.
He kissed her, whispering that he had only just truly understood how much he loved his wife, how dear she was to him.
Eleanor thought, The old crone wasnt wrong; she said I only had to wait.
She smiled, remembering the old saying: Good morning, dear ones! May your love, if still unseen, flutter to your window. And if it is already with you, cherish it.
She sent out a warm wish, May you all be wrapped in kindness and joy.
