Helen had never really trusted her husband. Which meant she had to depend entirely on herself. Thats pretty much how their married life trundled along.
Her husband, Charles, was as handsome as a leading manone of those dashing types you spot in posh magazines. He had charm by the bucketload and became the life of every party. He was moderate with his drink, didnt smoke, and had no interest whatsoever in football, fishing, or hunting. In short: a real gentlemanfit for royalty, as Helens aunt once put it.
With all those virtues, Helen was absolutely certain Charles found comfort somewhere outside the family home. Men like him were rare, and the man-hunters of the world seemed to flock his way on their own.
But the one thing she always found reassuring was Charless unconditional love for their son, Edward. He spent every spare moment with the boy and never seemed to tire of him. Helen figured that surely, such fatherly devotion would be enough to keep the family glued together.
At school, Helen was known as the Ginger, thanks to her blazing red hair and freckles dusted across her nose. Her own mother, a stunning beauty in her day, had drummed one message into Helens head since childhood:
Helen, darling, youre a bit of an ugly duckling. Forgive the comparison, love, but its just the honest truth. And who else will say it to you straight except your own mum? Maybe no bloke will want to marry you, so youd best rely on yourself. Study hard, build a career. And if a good man does pop up, dont be too picky. Be a loyal and dutiful wife.
Those words were etched in Helens mind even as an adult.
She left school with top marks and went off to university, where she bumped into Charlesnot literally, thankfully, as hed certainly have noticed her then. She never could fathom what such a dazzling man saw in her. Later on, Charles confessed that she was the only girl hed ever dared approach. Helen didnt bother with make-up, wore simple clothes, and had no clue how to flirt.
When she twigged that this stunner was genuinely interested, Helen resolved not to miss her chance. She proposed to Charles herself, deciding that fate had sent her a giftwhy let that slip through her fingers? Charles was gobsmacked but Helen quickly assured him, Ill be gentle, obedient and faithful. We can let love find us as time goes on.
He hesitated, of course, but in the end gave in. His mother, Martha Bennett, played an important role in all this. When he first introduced Helen, Martha studied her with that sharp, frosty look only English mothers-in-law can muster. Her son was something speciala real diamond in the rough! Every woman would kill to marry him! And here stood Helen: a pasty redhead spattered with freckles.
That first meeting was not what youd call a resounding success.
Helen was well aware of Marthas reluctance, but had no intention of giving up. A few days later, she visited her future mother-in-law alone, determined to rescue her own wedding plans. Martha made tea and Helen came across as less hopeless this time. Helen promised shed be a faithful wife to the end of her days. That seemed to outweigh all her deficiencies.
Martha had been on her own for ages. Her husband had left for someone else, only to crawl back a year later, battered and exhausted. But the family never took him back. Martha always wondered if she should have forgiven the man, but deep down, knew the sting of betrayal wouldve haunted her forever.
Raising Charles solo hadn’t been a walk in the park. Thats why, in the end, Martha agreed to the marriage. She knew Helen would wait for Charles, come rain or shine.
A year later, their son Edward was born. The spitting image of his father, to the delight of Grandma Martha.
Charles doted on his son, lavishing all his attention on the boy. Edward became the centre of his universe.
As for Helen, passion was never really on the cards. Their life was tranquil, bordering dangerously on dull. She washed and ironed his shirts, cooked his tea, gave him a peck on the cheek at bedtime. Charles handed over his entire salary, bought her flowers for her birthday, and kissed her goodbye every morning on the way to work. It was, lets be honest, more a case of routine than heart-bursting romance.
Five years later, Charles finally stumbled upon true love. Sadly, not at home.
Her name was Charlotte, a woman so stunning it was almost unfair. Charles was utterly helpless. For six months, they saw each other in secret, until Charlotte laid down the law:
Im not going to be your bit on the side. Marry me, or Im gone.
Charles was in bits. He couldnt bear to lose Charlotte, but little Edward meant the world to him too. At that point, Helen didnt enter his thoughts one bit.
When Edward turned five, Charles packed his things and left.
Helen remembered her mothers words. As a kid, they seemed harsh, but now she realized shed get through this without falling into melodramatic despair. Her heart was bruised, to be sure, but she wasnt falling apart.
As Charles left, Helens voice floated from the hallwaysteady as you like:
If you ever change your mind, the doors always open. But dont take too long. Edward loves you.
Charles hung between Edward and Charlotte for ages.
Helen, meanwhile, kept her toothbrush in the bathroom. Each time Charles visited Edward, hed spot it. One day, he took it with himbut by his next visit, another toothbrush was sitting in the exact same spot.
Years rolled by.
Helen eventually accepted Charles wasnt coming back.
She decided it was high time to move on. On a well-earned summer holiday, she had a brief and guilt-free fling.
Nine months later, Edward found himself with a baby sisterMartha.
One evening, the doorbell rang.
Thats my daddy! cried little Martha.
Helen opened the door.
Charles stood on the doorstep.
May I come in?
Of course.
Two weeks later, Helen rang her best mate:
You wanted to know Marthas middle name? Welllisten upits Martha Charlton!There was a pause. Her friend on the other end of the line let out a low whistle. Not Charlotte?
Helen grinned. No, not Charlotte. Charlton. As in Charlton Heston. Edwards favourite actor at the moment. He insisted.
In the kitchen, Edward and little Martha were squabbling over who got the last biscuit. Charles, freshly arrived, hovered awkwardly at the threshold, uncertain as a guest, his hands buried in his pockets.
Helen turned to wave him in, softening her smile. Tea? she offered.
He cleared his throat, meeting her steady gaze. Please.
When she set the mug before him, Charles sat carefully, glancing from Edward to Martha, then back to Helen. The lines on his handsome face were deeper. He seemed smaller than beforeno longer the centre of a universe, but a satellite hoping to find orbit.
For a moment, there was only the clatter of biscuits, Marthas bubbling chatter, the warmth of the kitchen. Charles looked up at Helen, eyes brimming with apologies words would never pin down.
Helen simply placed her hand, light as a feather, over his. You still have a place here, if you want one. Not as a heronot anymore. As yourself.
And, with the shy confidence of someone who knew her own worth at last, she added, Were doing just fine, Charles. The doors open for good companyand good stories. As for the rest, well see.
Outside, the first raindrops tapped the glass. Inside, Helen closed her fingers gently around Charless hand, andfor the first time in yearslaughed. Not the restrained, polite laughter of compromise, but the bright, hopeful laughter of someone who, ugly duckling or not, had discovered she was perfectly enough after all.
