Margaret Whitaker carefully pulled her daughters wedding dress from the cedar chest and smoothed the ivory silk. A sheen of tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. Eleanor had returned home only three months after the grand ceremonywithout a husband, without a smile, and with a shattered belief in happiness.
Mother, may I live with you again? Eleanor asked, her voice trembling as she stood on the doorstep of the family house, two suitcases in hand.
Margaret wrapped her arms around the girl without a word, helped her carry the luggage inside. The questions could wait. The mother felt that something essential in Eleanors life had broken beyond repair.
Now, with Eleanor away at work, Margaret could not escape the bitter recollections. Everything had begun so beautifully.
Eleanor had met Thomas at the companys New Years party. A friend had coaxed her to the event so she would not spend the holiday alone. She had resisted at first, but eventually acquiesced.
The tall darkhaired man with brown eyes won her over at first sight. He courted her with elegance, bringing flowers, arranging romantic outings. Under such relentless attention, Eleanor could not hold out. Six months later Thomas knelt at a table in a bustling London restaurant, in front of the assembled guests.
Eleanor, will you be my wife? he asked, his voice soft as he presented a velvet box containing a ring.
She smiled shyly. Though she had never imagined such a proposal, she sometimes allowed herself to dream of it. The room held its breath, and Eleanor whispered, Yes.
The whirlwind preparations for the wedding began. Thomas insisted on a lavish celebration.
My love, a wedding comes but once in a lifetime. I want everything to be perfect, he urged, his tone fervent.
Eleanor might have preferred something modest, yet she yielded to his wishes. He chose an expensive restaurant, invited a great many of his friends and colleaguesmost of whom Eleanor had never seen before.
Margaret recalled a quiet conversation in the kitchen.
My dear, are you sure youre not rushing? Youve known him but a short while, she asked gently.
Dont worry, Mum! Im twentyeight now. How long should I wait? Thomas is gentle and attentive. I could not wish for a better husband, Eleanor replied, her eyes bright with hope.
Now she returned home with a dimmed gaze. What had become of that hope?
Thomas moved into Eleanors onebedroom flat immediately after the wedding. He claimed he had been renting elsewhere, but now there was no point spending money when his young wife already owned a place.
My darling, Ive started saving for our future home. Well endure this cramped space a while longer, then buy something spacious, he said, kissing her on the temple.
Eleanor did not wish to begin married life with arguments over money, so she agreed. It soon emerged, however, that Thomas had lost his job before the wedding.
Why didnt you tell me? Eleanor demanded, having learned the truth from an acquaintance.
I didnt want to dampen your spirits before the wedding, Thomas shrugged. Im actively looking for work, dont worry.
Weeks passed and Thomas made no effort to find employment. He rose late, spent most days at a computer as if sending out résumés, and spent evenings with his mates. Eleanor worked in accounts, left early and returned late. Almost all household chores fell on her shoulders.
Thomas, perhaps you could take a temporary job while you search for a permanent one? she suggested cautiously.
What, you want me to become a delivery boy or a porter? he snapped. I have a degree and experience; I wont stoop to that.
One evening Eleanor returned home earlier than usual. From the stairwell she saw a silhouette in the window. Upstairs, loud voices rose. She turned the key, opened the door, and froze on the threshold. Her modest flat was filled with a boisterous crowd, empty bottles, snacks on the table, and blaring music.
Eleanor! Were just having a quick drink with the lads, Thomas grinned, reaching to embrace her.
The smell of alcohol clung to him. Eleanor glanced at the strewn dishes, the dirty crockery, and slipped silently into the bathroom, closing the door and weeping. What had become of her life?
The next morning, after the guests had departed and Thomas lay fast asleep, Eleanor discovered that her gold earrings a gift from her parents on reaching adulthoodhad vanished from their little jewellery box. She woke Thomas.
Where are my earrings? she asked sternly.
What earrings? he muttered halfasleep.
The gold pair that were in the box.
Thomass face twisted. Ah, those I borrowed them briefly. I needed a bit of cash to pawn with a jeweller I know, intending to buy them back straight away.
You sold my earrings? Eleanor shouted.
I didnt sell them, I pawned them! he snapped. We need the money! I was going to repay it.
Where did the money go? Eleanor pressed.
We were at the pub with the boys, he replied, turning away.
Eleanor sank onto a chair. Her husband had spent family money and even sold her personal belongings to fund nights out, while she had been saving for a new settee.
The problems snowballed. It soon emerged that Thomas had hidden loans he never mentioned before the wedding, and Eleanor was left to pay them. He concocted endless excuses for his unemployment and even hinted that she should work harder.
Thomas, this cant go on, Eleanor said one afternoon. I think we need a serious talk.
What about? he asked irritably, not putting down his phone.
Our life. Im working from dawn till dusk, paying the rent, buying food, and you she faltered.
What I? Speak up, he warned, his tone turning threatening.
You make no effort to improve our situation, she finished quietly.
Thomas sprang up, flinging his phone aside. Do you think I should scramble for pennies like a dog? Do you expect me to be humiliated? And you call yourself my wife?
After that argument the tension grew. Eleanor began staying later at work to spend less time at home. She increasingly regretted the haste of their marriage.
Thomas grew irritable and harsh, shouting at the slightest provocation. One night he exploded because she had forgotten his favourite orange juice.
You never look after me! I only asked for juice, and you cant remember that? he roared, pacing the room.
Im exhausted from work, Im sorry, Eleanor whispered, a chill running down her spine. She had never seen him so angry.
Everyone ignores my wishes! he banged his fist on the table, and Eleanor flinched.
A call from Thomass friend defused the scene; his anger melted into a polite smile. He answered, stepped onto the balcony, and pretended everything was fine.
Each day grew worse. Money seemed to evaporate faster. One night Eleanor checked the bank statement and saw a large sum withdrawn at a nightclub on the night Thomas claimed to be staying with a mate.
Why are you watching me? he snapped when she confronted him with the record. Cant I have a moment of relaxation?
Relax with what money? she asked softly.
What does it matter? Were a family; everything is shared! he retorted.
Something finally snapped in Eleanors heart. She realised that the Thomas she had fallen for was a façade crafted during the courting, while the real man was lazy, irresponsible, and perhaps dishonest.
The final straw was the story of her mothers ring. Margaret had given Eleanor a family ruby ringa heirloom passed down through the women of their line. Eleanor kept it in a small velvet box. On the day she was to attend her aunts jubilee, she opened the box and found it empty.
Her pulse quickened. Thomas, have you seen Mums ring? she demanded.
He averted his gaze, mumbling, I needed cash urgently. A friend fell into trouble, I couldnt refuse. Ill repay him, I promise.
Eleanor sank into a chair. The truth was stark: there was no friend, no job hunt. He had simply used her, lived off her money, and sold her possessions.
I want a divorce, she said quietly.
Thomass face hardened. You cant do that to me! Im your husband! We swore to stand together in sorrow and joy!
Sorrow was plenty, Eleanor replied, a bitter smile playing on her lips. Joy I never got to know.
Youll regret this! he threatened.
Fear tightened around her. That very evening, while Thomas was out with his mates, she packed what she could and went to her parents house. There she broke down, telling Margaret everything about the brief, disastrous marriage.
I was so wrong, Mum! Why didnt I listen when you warned me not to rush? she sobbed.
Margaret stroked her daughter’s hair and whispered, It will be alright, love. You will find happiness again, I promise.
A week later, when Eleanor gathered the courage to return for the remaining belongings, a shock awaited her. The flat was in disarrayappliances gone, jewellery missing, some clothing vanished. Thomas had taken everything that could be sold and vanished.
Eleanor fell to the floor amid the wreckage and, absurdly, laugheda bitter, raw laugh. Her marriage lay in ruins, as did the little home.
A month passed. Eleanor filed for divorce. Thomas never appeared in court; rumors said he had fled to Manchester. Eleanor was left to shoulder the loans he had secured in their names, forged signatures and all.
Margaret gently folded the wedding dress back into the cedar chest. Perhaps one day Eleanor would don a white dress again, meeting a worthy man. For now it would sit as a reminder of a mistake not to repeat.
That evening, when Eleanor returned from work, Margaret brewed a pot of tea and said, You know, darling, a wedding is but a single day. Happiness must be built over years, with someone who deserves it.
Eleanor gave a faint smile, Now I understand, Mum. Better to be alone than with someone who makes you miserable.
Each day she took modest steps toward a new life. She took a second job to repay debts, enrolled in a night course to upgrade her skills, and spent weekends strolling in HydePark and meeting friends she had neglected while married.
One afternoon, while leafing through old photographs, she found the wedding pictures. In one, she stood radiant in her white dress, bouquet in hand, Thomas smiling beside her. She had once believed in that fairytale. She stared at the image, then tore it apart.
The act was symbolicshe was not only destroying a picture but also the illusion that happiness could be handed to her on a platter, like a wedding cake. True joy must be built brick by brick, day by day, starting with oneself.
That night, for the first time in a long while, she fell asleep with a light heart. She knew not what the future held, but she resolved firmly: she would no longer live by others expectations or make hasty choices. She would have a chance to create a genuine, strong, and happy family.
For now, she was learning to be happy alone. After all, happiness is not a stamp in a passport or a white gown; it is a state of the soul, independent of marital status. And Eleanor was determined to reach that state, one careful step at a time.
