My husband wants me to come with him.
Look, Ann, isnt that your Maisie running toward us?
We were trudging home from the hayfield, all flushed and worn out. Suddenly, in a light summer dress, barefoot with a scarf over her shoulder, my fourteen-year-old sister Maisie came rushing up to us.
Something must have happened at home.
Ann, Ann she was breathless, grabbing my arm hes here, Michaels back she finally managed to say.
What? The words shot out of me before I could stop them.
We both instantly knew what to do without another word. Maisie grabbed the bucket, and with ease started winding it down the village well.
I quickly took off my scarf, splashed the icy water on my face, and washed. Maisie handed me her own scarf to dry myself. I tied it around my head and looked at her as if into a mirror.
Well?
Its all fine Maisie nodded, tweaking my scarf a little, He came for you. He said hes been given a flat.
Given one? I echoed, the meaning trickling in, Given, so thats that, I sighed, And at home?
We walked back to the house.
Oh, Mum was mucking out the cowshed, and I was grazing the cows. Granny was the only one inside And no one saw, but he just came into the house. The hallway was a mess onions everywhere, hardly welcoming. Granny didnt even recognise him, thought it was Vic from the forge. Mum fretted, you know, about the state of things. But you know what, he was so clean check shirt, city smart Ann, Maisie halted suddenly on the path, I nearly walked into her, Ann, are you really going to leave now? Tears glimmered in her deep blue eyes, But what about me? How will I manage?
Annoyance flashed through me at Maisie, of all things. Id been waiting for this for so long, and she was being childish, whimpering.
Oh, hush, Maisie! Dont be daft. You know Im married! My husband wants me with him, I retorted, matter-of-fact and stern.
Maisie sniffed and trailed behind me, resigned.
The truth was, Id been waiting for this moment for more than a year and not just me. The entire village had waited, some with sympathy and others with that snide whispering behind hands.
Gran would sigh and dab at her faded apron:
My poor girl! Not a maid, not a widow, not really a wife, are you
Mum would quietly sigh and shake her head. Dad always banged the table:
Divorce him, then! What kind of marriage is this?
At night Id lie awake and cry, writing letters to Michael, dashing to the post office with hope.
Still writing? Mhm, said old Mrs Vera as she stamped my letter, glancing at the queue behind. Nothing for you today.
I know, I replied proudly and scurried away up the creaky steps, pretending not to care.
Michael hated writing letters. Over a year and a half, just four. Hed told me straight: As soon as they give me a flat, youre coming to live with me. Until then, he lived in a factory hostel in Leeds, eight blokes squeezed into one large room.
Some did bring their wives there they hung curtains and lived like that. Michael scoffed at such things What kind of family life is that, behind a curtain? When they give me a flat
I was flustered. Id dressed for hay-making: an old skirt, grans cardigan with sleeves rolled up to stop the grass burning me. Now my back was soaked and I looked a state. Id dreamed of that first meeting with Michael looked forward to it for so long and now hed see me bedraggled. Hed gone all citified too, with smart girls about. I was nothing like the lot of them.
Maisie, you go in first, will you? Ill come after. Tell him I need to change after haymaking.
Alright. Wear your blue dress. It really suits you.
I will, I nodded, heart fluttering for the reunion.
We slipped under the garden rail, shortcutting through to the cottage. We climbed the steps; Maisie glanced back at me, worried. In the hallway, the onions were gone, Maisie must have tidied up.
I entered behind my sister. Mum, all fussing and wearing her scarf nearly down to her brows, was busy at the table, covered by a battered oilcloth. There sat Michael. He turned and smiled at us.
Heres Ann, Maisie announced, Shes just back from the fields, all sweaty. Shell go and change in a moment.
Letting Maisie go first was a mistake; as if Id lost my own tongue.
Ann! Well then, hello! Michael stood, looming above my short self, Give us a kiss, then?
Let me change first, I mumbled, avoiding his gaze. Kissing in front of Mum and my sister was embarrassing.
We slipped into my bedroom, Maisie and I quiet, listening to the murmurs in the kitchen as we stripped off my muddy things and put on the blue dress, brushing my hair.
Typical, bath nights tomorrow, Maisie grumbled, fussing over me, Oh! Shoes! and charged off for our only proper pair.
In the kitchen, Mum yammered about the hay and her bad knees, talking more than she ever did a sure sign she was as anxious and lost as the rest of us.
Michael looked changed, more grown. He didnt seem to fit in our poky kitchen, even the way he smoked was different, pungent and urban.
Eventually I was ready and stepped into the kitchen. Michael stood.
I suppose you could say I was pretty enough. Not tall, not thin, but with a sturdy English-girl build. The local lads had always noticed. Michael was clever enough to marry me before heading off to the city. Otherwise, someone else would have snapped me up.
There I stood in my blue dress thick plait hanging, dimples on my sun-dark cheeks, bright eyes and a small smile.
Michael gazed at me, fiddling with his cigarette.
Well then, Mum, Ill take Anne now. They rate me highly at work. Theyve given me a flat
Thus began the bustle gathering my belongings to move. My wiry gran, whod so worried Michael would never fetch me, wept now that he had:
Off they all go, leaving their parents, cant settle anywhere, she sniffed.
Mum bustled tenderly about, tying wellingtons and a parcel of my best coat with string to my suitcase. Maisie, torn between joy and sorrow, helped me pack, her own world changing with mine.
But I could scarcely think so caught up in dreams, in love, in pride. Nobody believed Michael would return for me, but he had, and for me at least, those red sails came true.
The village saw me off in style that evening. A white horse grazed by the gate but barely registered the fuss Ann Astley was finally off. Actually, it was Mrs Finch now had been for over a year. Women gathered in shawls, friends crowded the house. Old Mr Parker, the local moaner, was having his say:
No good comes of the city for country folk!
Val, a village girl, chewed at her lip in apology:
Dont be cross, Ann. I only said Michael might find someone else in Leeds ’cause, well, Paula did tell me what city folk are like.
I smiled gently.
It’s alright, Val. I didnt believe it for a second. He had to come for me were married, after all.
Michael helped with the bags and smoked with the men, shaking hands.
Dont be unkind to our Anne. Shes a good lass, can cook and bake. Be good to her, Gran wept.
Mum waved long after everyone else left.
On the way to the station, Dad and Maisie came with us. No sooner had we left than Michael let out a breath:
Thank heavens. Like a brood of hens back there, all clucking and fuss.
Maisie and I exchanged looks, suddenly unsure. How would I manage in the city?
A lark hovered overhead, crickets chirped ceaselessly, the scent of hay and wildflowers drifted in. We journeyed to the station.
Look after her, Dad muttered gruffly, shaking Michaels hand at the platform. Maisie cried openly now. I tried to soothe her.
Dont cry. Come see us, come stay when youve finished school well have room.
Ann, if you ever well, come back if you want. Ill wait for you, Maisie replied.
The train, after a short halt, took us away. The station, the sheds, the water tower drifted by; Dads grey jacket and cap, Maisie waving, skirt and scarf flapping in the wind, shrank into the distance.
Outside flew past clumps of white birch, rolling fields, and cheerful woods under a sky full of clouds and sunlight. I was scared and exhilarated at once.
Enough of this Ann, Michael said when I introduced myself to the woman across the carriage, Youre Anne now, not Ann. Use your proper name.
Alright, I agreed. For now, Id do as Michael said what did I know of city life?
We found a car, driving through busy Leeds streets lined with houses not so different from home but also with bustling high-rises. People here were so varied, nothing like our own lot.
Everything amazed me, though everything felt alien and chilly no one here knew or would ever know me.
Michael pointed things out:
See that fence? Thats my factory, goes on for miles. That construction? Thatll be a new school. Queue outside the shop? Probably got something new in.
We unloaded into a tidy courtyard, swings and clotheslines stretched between blocks. Two mums with prams sat on a bench, but didnt greet or approach. Michael carried the bags to the fourth floor while I watched, smiling uncertainly at the city girls.
Are you moving into thirty-five then? one called down.
Not sure maybe, I glanced at the building numbers, confused.
Probably in thirty-five. The rest have settled long since. Why so long getting here?
I dont know, I said.
Michael came down, and together we hauled up the last bags.
Michael, is it flat thirty-five? I asked, peering upwards.
Yes, why?
The girls downstairs asked why we hadnt moved in yet.
We took our time. None of their business, he grumbled, And here, women only bother with headscarves for work. In the shops, you dont need one. Got it?
Oh, I muttered, gazing out the window. The fourth floor! How would I manage here?
At last I entered our new home the floorboards painted nearly red, yellow wallpaper. We took off our shoes and crossed into the enormous, empty room. Big windows and a door onto a balcony.
Well, what do you think? Michael grinned at me.
Oh I was lost for words. Id never seen windows so big.
Lets go out on the balcony! He pulled me, but I stopped, frightened by the space above the city.
Go on, he teased, laughing, Dont be scared! Step out!
No, no, Im too heavy.
Come on! he insisted.
So I stepped out, feeling the floor might give way. Only because Michael told me to. The balcony held firm, though I was dizzy from the height.
Enough, lets go inside.
Youre hilarious. Let me show you the kitchen and bathroom.
The stove astonished me how on earth did you keep something so white clean? And hot water, a bath, a lavatory inside!
Michael struck a match, showing me how to light the water heater, but I was nervous of the flame and doubted Id dare use it while he was away.
We sat together on the floor, backs to the wall, studying the empty room, both dreaming of the life to come. Michael told how hed come to have this flat quite by chance, another worker left, and itd been handed to him.
Ill bring a camp-bed from the hostel. Well buy everything else bit by bit a bed, table, fridge. It takes time, but well manage Youll stay here tonight, Ann. Cant both fit the camp-bed.
I agreed what was one night alone, with our whole life before us, a proper, city life.
Michael soon brought the camp-bed, a pillow, and blanket. We sat, laughing and kissing, until we were too tired for anything but sleep. Supper was homemade sausage and bread straight from Mums basket, eaten off the suitcase since we had no table.
When I was alone, I wandered round the flat, getting used to the gas stove, heating water in a little pan to wash myself.
Night settled over the city, windows and streetlamps glowing. I stood by the window, tracing the cold glass, watching smoke billowing pink under the glow of the city. Even late, Leeds buzzed and shimmered, shadows and headlights racing by, the busy hush of tires and distant voices.
I pictured home Gran already in bed, Dad asleep, Maisie reading by the carbide lamp, Mum perhaps on her bed by the fire, knees aching, thoughts with me. I pressed my forehead to the glass: behind each glowing window, its own untouchable life. Now ours would be one of them with plants, curtains, and someday, me sat outside with a pram waiting for Michael to come home from work. So little needed for happiness! I just had to settle in and show Michael what a good housewife I could be.
As Gran would put it, Shell have pies on before you can turn around. Well, we had an oven and there were shops; Id manage pies soon enough.
Those first days alone in this painted, echoing, half-empty flat were filled with terror just stepping outside to buy bread or to nod at neighbours was petrifying. Crossing the street at a traffic light well, I knew in theory but that was all.
But I had money Dad had pressed fifty quid into my hand and told me to buy whatever I needed. I offered it to Michael, but he put off shopping.
So eventually, I struck out to a furniture shop on my own, asking a now-familiar neighbour for directions, heading to the bus stop.
The bus was packed, a hefty conductress fighting her way down. Next to me stood a tall, thin, mop-headed lad with a folder.
Bit of a squeeze, eh? he said apologetically.
It is I nodded.
In the shop, by some miracle, I found I could actually buy a bed. I mentioned it to Michael that evening, but he just shrugged.
What do I need a bed for? I leave home at eight and get back at eight, then another half-hour on the bus. Im knackered. Ill sleep at the hostel for now
I wondered if he didnt want to be at home because of me. Maybe our bare walls werent cosy enough. The next day, I went back to the shop, determined.
The same lad, no folder this time, smiled and squeezed over.
Knew I recognised that dress! You study here, do you?
No, Im after a bed. My husband and I just moved.
A bed? I need a lamp, or maybe a shade. Got them?
Plenty, I nodded.
We left the bus together.
Im Glenn, and you?
Ann I blurted, then corrected myself I mean, Anne.
Mind if I call you Ann?
Go on, I said, and with a sudden pang, realised he liked me.
My husband and I cant seem to buy a bed. Only just moved in.
Husband? he fell back, disappointed. But Id said it on purpose, not wanting to give him any encouragement.
Yes, only just come down to these new flats.
Where from? he kept his head down.
Out of Lincolnshire, from Birchwell village.
Oh, Im from Yorkshire! Were almost neighbours.
That set us off, talking nineteen to the dozen about home, school and village life. It felt wonderful to talk, finally, with someone who listened, to share my dazed city impressions.
Been to Hyde Park yet? he asked excitedly.
Not yet, havent had a chance.
Oh, you should. Its lovely there.
Turned out Glenn was at agricultural college, nearly finished.
This time I bought a three-quarter bed and all Id need for it. Glenn gave advice, liked my choices, even helped arrange delivery and came with the van to bring it all up.
Need me to set it up?
No, my husband will do it. I ought to pay you for the help?
He waved me off. Soon gone, he left me sitting on the windowsill feeling guilty had I enjoyed the attention? Did Mum raise me for this? But I had a husband, and good one.
Still, that night Michael didnt come home too tired, he said.
I made the new bed anyway, dropping pillows onto the fresh linen. It felt like leaping into cold water, so lonely. I stared through the window at the stars, unable to warm up, convinced Michael didnt really need me here.
Next morning, I found myself staring at a neighbours kitchen so warm and lovely compared to ours. I asked Michael to buy the second-hand furniture she offered, but he hesitated. Still, at the weekend he returned, surprised (and pleased) by the bed. He bought the old kitchen set, and we moved it in together, busy with furniture all day.
Michael, when will you move in properly?
Its simpler in the hostel get out of work, two minutes walk. Buses here take forever. Only moved in so they couldnt take the flat away. If Id refused, theyd have handed it to someone else.
I froze.
You got it ages ago? I thought of those nosy girls downstairs.
He ignored the question.
It doesnt matter now. Its ours. Yours, mine, and our childrens someday.
He looked at me blankly.
Well, yes. You are my lawful wife, he said, turning away.
It was enough for me. I didnt want to nag or doubt him, only to be happy. That night, Michael showed me again how to work the water heater, making fun of my rural ways.
Next day, I wrote home about the purchases, the new life, the flat with its amazing bath, kitchen, and furniture. I didnt mention Glenn. That bit didnt bear telling.
The next week Michael didnt come at all. Every evening I laid the table, but he never arrived even the curtain rails remained on the floor with nobody to hang them. Should I get a job? I planned to try at his factory, but he wouldnt have it.
He left for three days, then returned. I was so lonely, always walking the fine line between hoping for happiness and losing spirit.
At the bus stop one day, I ran into Glenn again. Oddly, I was thrilled and even caught him by the sleeve, only to be embarrassed by it.
Oh! You, Ann. I was thinking about you, he dropped his gaze. Im finishing my work placement, going home till September.
Well, here we are, I tried to make it light.
Lets have a stroll in Hyde Park now. Last day, and youve never seen it.
I looked around, as if for advice. Finding none, I nodded, and suddenly felt lighter.
Glenn was delighted, chattering on about the park as we crossed the street. Crowds, music, children, ice cream, rides. My heart soared.
Come on, lets go on the swings! Glenn didnt wait, buying tickets before I could argue.
I hadnt been on swings since I was small and Dad took me to the county fair once, years ago.
As the chain ride lifted us high over the park, it struck me that life is a ride like this up and down, dizzying, uncertain.
It was on the third turn that I saw him. Twelve times, I counted. My husband, Michael, around the back of the ice-cream kiosk, one arm braced on the wall, the other gently around a tall, pretty girls waist. She laughed and spoke to him, opening the kiosk window. She must have worked there.
Every sweep of the ride took me past once, twice, twelve times. Enough to see every detail: how he touched her hair, how she playfully wagged her finger, how she scolded him and went back to the counter.
Are you alright, Ann? Dizzy?
No, I blinked, I want Lets go! tugging Glenn away, almost running, straight toward the kiosk.
Only when we reached the avenue did I slow.
Ann, whats wrong?
Michael was still there, heading off with a wave to the girl, who called after him:
Mike, get some bread, will you? Were out at home!
He didnt see me, never once looked my way. Perhaps he never imagined Id be in Hyde Park.
The sign above the kiosk read: Ice Cream.
I want an ice cream, I said, eyes down.
Ill get it, Glenn offered.
No, let me, I forced a smile.
Hello! the girl chimed through the kiosk window Weve got vanilla for eighty p and chocolate for ninety.
Two, please, I muttered, not hearing what she said.
Both vanilla or both chocolate? she beamed.
Chocolate and handed over a pound.
She gave me two, and nearly had to chase me for my change.
We walked, licking ice creams.
Glenn, lets finish these and go home, alright?
Why not drop the formalities? Just call me Glenn.
No, not now! I just couldnt explain Its not right.
Whats not right, Ann?
All this! Im a married woman, out enjoying myself with another man, eating ice cream Isnt that wrong?
But were only well
Exactly well. And this ice creams nasty, anyway, I looked for a bin, found none and handed mine to Glenn, Here, I dont want it, and walked quickly away.
Both ice creams went into the nearest bin. Glenn accompanied me home in silence.
At the door, I turned:
Im sorry, Glenn. Best if we don’t see each other anymore. Youll be gone, and I Ill probably leave, too.
To where? he called after me, but I was already inside.
At last, alone, I dashed for the balcony, fresh air and height, anything to escape. Glenn still stood in the courtyard, watching, worried.
I flung myself onto the bed, new sheets feeling cold and strange. I sobbed, knowing Michael wouldnt come tonight. He had bread to buy for someone else.
I didnt sleep. I thought: I have to say something. Maybe it was a mistake. Id been out with Glenn, after all.
But early, I wrapped my scarf tight, picked up my bag and caught the bus to Michaels hostel.
Michael Finch? Oh, he moved out ages ago. Once youre given a flat, you lose hostel rights, love, said the warden, with the cleaner confirming.
He sometimes stays with friends? I finished lamely.
No, not allowed. Management wouldnt have it.
Must be someone else, then, the cleaner said, unimpressed.
Who are you, love?
Im his wife.
Well, well, the warden drawled. Youre Michael Finchs wife? Imagine that! Kate! Its his wife looking for him!
The cleaner dropped her mop and whispered to the warden.
The warden gave me an odd look and then dropped her eyes.
Cant help you, dear. He doesnt live here.
I felt as if I was standing naked in front of a judge, betrayed by my own husband.
All I wanted was to leave. The flat, the city, everything pinched and cold. Even the bath and the shining kitchen, which Id once delighted in, felt hateful now. I remembered the Saturday baths at home, scrubbing gran with Maisie.
I packed quickly, not even everything. How would I even get all that stuff to the station now? Most could stay.
I spoke to the neighbour, explained: Id be getting a divorce. How to unregister from the flat? It took all day. I left Michael a note.
“Ive left. Were divorcing. I saw you with someone else. Ive unsubscribed from the flat, keys in the letterbox.”
Three jumpers on, suitcase and bag at my side, I made for the station.
Of course, Id arrived too early the train wasnt till evening. Ten hours to wait. But I didnt mind, not anymore.
Then the familiar scenes unfurled: the village station, a farm cart ride, the scent of hay and flowers, the lark singing overhead.
I was going home.
***
Ann! Ann! Is that you? Maisie called from the vegetable patch as she saw me carrying my bags up the garden walk.
She stared, frozen for a moment like someone blinking awake. Our old dog, Duke, wagged his tail. I rubbed his neck and called:
Dont just stand there, help me, would you?
Ann! her eyes wide.
What, Ann? Funny, Michael didnt like my name. He told me to use Anne. But I cant get used to it it just isnt me, I shrugged.
Maisie did a silly jig and hollered with delight:
Brilliant! Anns come home! Mum! she yelled into the garden, but Mum didnt hear. Maisie grabbed the heaviest bag, beaming as she lugged it in.
Mum kind and fair as they come understood it all straight off. Dad grumbled, but I could tell he was glad I was back.
Gran asked me over and over to tell her about the posh tap water, the instant hot water, the white bath and stove.
Never mind. Well get a washer soon! Queues not too bad anymore, Mum nodded.
That evening Mum quietly asked if Id come back with child. I didnt know, but a little later, as we weeded carrots, I told her: cramps, nothing more. Mum looked at me and I shook my head. No, I wasnt pregnant. Michael probably didnt want children.
I filed for divorce. Michael returned to sign, near the end of August.
Ann, dont do anything hasty. Hadnt expected this from you. You could have stayed. Who made you leave? You liked that flat. Lets go back together?
No! I stepped into the registrars office.
Afterwards, Michael fumbled for his lighter, then flung it down.
Stupid, Ann. You could have lived like a queen, all mod cons, plenty of money. Now youll be here stoking the fire and feeding pigs.
Youre the expert at turning things over, Michael, I replied calmly.
Looking at him, I wondered did I ever love him at all? Perhaps not. There was no regret, no anger. Just nothing.
I turned away, walking to Dad, who waited nearby. Michael watched me go, then ground out his unfinished cigarette with a stomp.
Howd it go? Dad asked, pretending not to care.
But I knew he did.
All done, Dad. No regrets at all.
Come September, when drizzle misted the sky, the front gate squeaked open, Duke barked on his chain. Through the gate came Maisie with an umbrella, school dress peeking out.
Hush, Duke! Its a friend! she told the dog.
Hello! Is Ann here? I heard shes back Mrs Astley?
Shes here, but shes in the field, Maisie peered at him, Youre Glenn, arent you?
Yes but how did you
Knew it! Maisie grinned, Knew youd find her! She never believed it, but I did. Do come in. Ill dry you, give you tea, and shell be back soon just in the fields, harvesting spuds. We only got away because the school had a visitor, but usually were all out there, too. Muddy work, raining always! She paused at the door You dont mind if shes a mess when she comes back?
Not at all, Glenn laughed, Im just so glad to have found her. I came straight from college to see her, thought maybe And the neighbour said shed divorced and left Leeds. Im so glad!
I think she will be too. Just dont say I said anything, okay? Maisie put her finger to her lips with a wink.
