An Unexpected Joy At the department in the university, no one among the colleagues would have believed that Valeria Evans’s husband was a hopeless alcoholic. It was her sorrowful secret and bitter burden. …Valeria Evans was a lecturer, a senior lecturer, and head of the department. At work, she was greatly respected as a specialist. Her reputation was impeccable. Everyone thought Valeria had it all, in every sense. How could they not? Her husband often met her at the university gates so they could walk home arm in arm. “Well, Valeria, you are such a lucky woman! Your husband is so distinguished, attentive, well-bred, handsome…” the younger staff members would sigh admiringly. “Oh girls, don’t be jealous!” Valeria would deflect. Only she knew what her ‘gentleman’ became at home. Victor drank himself senseless, staggering in filthy and barely human, unable even to fit the key into the door, falling asleep in the hallway. Valeria dragged him in, covered him with a throw (so he wouldn’t freeze), and retreated to her dissertations—first the PhD, then her doctorate. She always left a jug of water nearby to silence his midnight cries: “Val! Water… Water!” Each morning, she simply stepped over him, went to work, and brought kindness, knowledge, and reason to her students—a cycle that might last a week, a month… And one day, Victor would be waiting again at the university steps, the picture of sobriety, to walk his wife home. Clean, pressed, and smiling. As Valeria exited, surrounded by colleagues, Victor would rush over, peck her cheek, and ask: “How was your day, love?” “All right, Vic. Let’s go home,” Valeria would sigh quietly, as the staff looked on, charmed by this “perfect couple.” “Valeria’s so lucky with her husband…” they’d remark. But inside those doors, Valeria fell silent—her quiet revenge. She knew silence was powerful, and Victor suffered under the weight of her accusing hush, though over the years, he adapted. He’d walk her home, then scuttle off “on business”—to drink again. …Valeria and Victor had been married for twenty-eight years. Their love was once mutual, tender, seemingly everlasting. Then, like down feathers from a pillow, it scattered—impossible to catch or piece together. …Early in their marriage, they struggled to have a child. Valeria fretted, sure a family without children was incomplete. At last, a son was born: Dimitri, the light of her life. Money was tight; Victor left all housework and childcare to Valeria, saving his energy for sneaking drinks. Exhausted, she only caught on to his wrongdoings later; young and naïve, she was too busy to notice. She was stunned the day she found a bottle on the balcony. “Vic? Whose is this?” Valeria asked. “Take a guess,” Victor joked. There were rows. Tears, pleas, threats—the usual script. …Years passed. Victor drifted in and out of jobs, always losing them to his drinking. He offered little hope, but Valeria never divorced—her mother’s words echoing: “Darling, you only marry once! The first husband is from God, the second from the Devil. Even if he’s made of straw, he’s yours. There’s no father dearer to a child.” Valeria dreaded a “Devil’s husband.” She climbed her career ladder, knowing she could rely only on herself. She became oddly used to Victor’s “episodes,” almost pitying him—nothing more. Everything inside her had dried up and died. Her pride was Dimitri. He grew into a catch—finding his first love at fourteen, another at nineteen, and so on. Too fond of romance, he’d bring home a new girlfriend just as she’d gotten used to the last. One girl, Anna, stayed five years. Valeria grew to love her and called her “daughter-in-law.” The family urged a wedding, but Anna just shrugged: “I’m ready. Dima’s the one waiting…” At last, Anna vanished. Dimitri soon introduced Lena, no older than eighteen: “She’ll live with us. We’re in love,” he announced. Valeria protested, demanding Anna back. Offended, Dima and Lena left. For the first time, Valeria realized she truly missed Anna—five years was no small thing. “A player, my son. At least he doesn’t drink…” she consoled herself. A month later, Dima returned—alone. When Valeria asked after his ‘latest love,’ he revealed Anna had two children she kept secret, visiting them whenever she claimed she was at her mother’s. Her ex-husband had told Dima. Valeria defended Anna: “Maybe she still loves you, Dima. Sometimes life just turns out that way. It’s the children who suffer; they just need love.” Dima smiled: “She’s still a good person, Mum.” …A year passed. Victor died of cirrhosis after months of agony, tearfully asking Valeria and Dima’s forgiveness before he went. At the grave, Valeria told her son, “Do you know how many years and nerves your father cost me? For every bottle he drank, I shed a tear. And yet, I’d go through it all again, just to have him back. That’s love for you…” As she wept openly, her son quietly walked her home. At the university, Valeria finally confided, “I’m alone now. Dima has his own busy life—I only wish he’d give me a grandchild. That would make it all easier. How do you go on? Where to find the strength?” …Another year flew by. Valeria retired. She still missed waiting on the steps for Victor—hard to believe the past would never repeat. December’s end brought the usual flurry. Everyone was anticipating a miracle! On New Year’s Eve, Valeria was alone—tree trimmed, salad and mandarins on the table, champagne poured. “Maybe Dima will stop by… perhaps he’s fallen in love again… Will he ever settle down?” The doorbell rang. Valeria started—her son had his own key. She peered out: “My goodness, Anna!” Valeria flung open the door and hugged her unexpected guest. Only then did she spot the tiny girl beside Anna. Flustered, she fetched food and tea. Anna settled the girl to sleep. And looking closely, Valeria suddenly saw… Dima’s face, in miniature. “Well, Anna—what’s brought you here?” “Mrs. Evans—I need to confess something,” Anna began. “I know it all, dear. Dima told me. Out with it…” “She’s your granddaughter,” Anna whispered. “I guessed. Dima’s girl, right? He won’t turn her away. But what now?” “Could she stay here for a while? I’ve reconciled with my husband, but he won’t accept Veronica—says he has his own to raise first. I’m in a fix. Please, help me!” Anna pleaded. “What a New Year’s present you’ve given me,” Valeria mused. “You’re retired now—no time for boredom, I promise! I’ll come often. Her name is Veronica. She’s sixteen months old,” Anna pleaded. …By morning, Anna was gone. On the table: a note. “I love you, Mrs. Evans! Happy New Year! Love to Dima.” Next to it: a bag of Veronica’s things and documents—“Veronica Dimitrievna.” “She takes after the family. Well, Victor is gone—and now Veronica has come,” Valeria said with a sad smile. She kissed her sleeping granddaughter’s forehead. “My unexpected joy!” …Veronica started Year One. She called Valeria “Gran,” and Dima “Dad.” He doted on his daughter Nicky—and still chased his unattainable happiness. Anna never visited again…

UNEXPECTED JOY

No one at the department in the college could have guessedor believedthat Valerie Greens husband was an incorrigible drunkard. It was her sad secret, her private misfortune.

Valerie was a lecturer, a senior academic, and head of the department. At work, they held her in high esteem as a specialist; her reputation was pristine. Everyone assumed she had it all togethera successful Englishwoman, in every sense. After all, her husband was often seen waiting at the gates after work to walk her home, arm in arm.

Oh Valerie, arent you a lucky woman! cooed her younger colleagues. Your husband is so distinguished, attentive, cultured not to mention handsome.

Oh, dont envy me, girls, shed reply, dismissing them with a practiced smile.

But Valerie alone knew what her gentleman became behind closed doors. Victorher husbanddrank himself into oblivion nearly every evening. Hed crawl home, filthier than a coal miner, barely human. He couldnt manage to fit his key in the lock, so hed ring the bell, collapse on the doormat, and pass out. Valerie would open the door, muttering her griefoh, you sorry sod, why must you do this, youre draining me drydrag him in, cover him with the old tartan rug (so he wouldnt freeze in the night), and return to her academic writing: first her masters, then her doctorate. Shed always place a massive mug of water near Victor, knowing otherwise hed wake in the middle of the night bellowing, Val! Water! Water!

In the mornings, dressed crisply for work, shed step carefully over her snoring husband in the hallway, lock up, and take herself off to the college to sow the seeds of reason, goodness, and endurance. And so the strange act continuedweek by week, month by month.

And then, with no warning, Victor would reappear, clean-shaven and smiling, on the college steps, as if nothing had happened. When Valerie emerged with her colleagues at days end, Victor would dash to kiss her on the cheek: How was your day, Val?

Fine, Vic. Lets go home, Valerie would breathe quietly, and the others would gaze upon them fondly, marvelling, Lucky old Valerie, just look at them!

But as soon as they crossed the threshold, silence would descend. This was Valeries quiet revenge. She knew silence was her sharpest weapon, and Victor could hardly stand the weight of it. Though, over the years, he learned to endure. Hed escort his wife home, then vanish on errands. The drinking never stopped.

Valerie and Victor had been married twenty-eight years. Their love was once mutual, tender, seemingly eternaluntil it scattered like the down from a burst feather pillow, never to be gathered again.

They struggled for years to have a child. Valerie was consumed by worry, feeling their family incomplete and hollow without one. At last a sona little boywas born, and he became the centre of her existence.

But, with the added needs of a baby, money was tight. Victor shirked any responsibilities with house or child, focused only on stashing his bottles and sneaking his drink. Valerie would be exhausted by evening but too busy to notice right away what Victor was up to. Young and naïve, she discovered a bottle of whisky hidden behind the garden shed and was dumbfounded.

Vic? Whose is this? Valerie had asked.

Take a wild guess, he replied, smirking.

The first row erupted. More followed, each messier than the lasttears, pleading, ultimatumsthe usual, weary tale.

Years passed. Victor found and lost jobs, his chronic tippling always to blame. There was no hope for him, but Valerie never dreamt of divorce, haunted by her mothers words: You marry once, darling. The first husband is a gift from abovethe second, from the devil himself. Even a straw mans better than none, and no one will ever be more your childs father.

Valerie shuddered to think of a devils husband.

She built her career stubbornly, knowing she could rely on no one but herself. She grew accustomed to her husbands madness, knew the script of Victors Binges by heart. She pitied him, but felt nothing moreinside, shed grown barren and cold.

Her one consolation was her son, David. He grew into a fine man, passionate but fickle. First love at fourteen, second at nineteen, and then onward Perhaps too loving, Valerie thought. No sooner had she grown fond of a young woman than David presented a new flame. But one, Anna, stayed five yearslong enough for Valerie to call her daughter-in-law, to introduce her to family as Davids wife. The four of them lived togetherVictor, Valerie, their son, and Anna. Subtle hints about grandchildren and wedding bells floated about. Its time to form a proper family, think about an heir! Valeried nudge.

Anna would shrug: Im happy to, but Davids stalling

Valerie pressed her sonDavid! Ill be retiring soon. I want a grandchild to dote on!

David only smiled mysteriously. Then, one day, Anna was gone. Valerie came home to find her things missing. That evening, David introduced them to a new girlLucy, barely eighteen.

Lucys moving in. Were in love, David announced.

And what about Anna? Bring her back! Valerie snapped.

David, stung, left with Lucy.

It was only now that Valerie realised how attached shed grown to Anna. Five years, and Anna had loved David deeplywhat more could a mother want? And suddenly, poof!

How did David introduce her, thisthis chatterbox, Laura? Lana? Over my dead body! Valerie seethed. What a womaniser my boy is! At least he doesnt drink, thank heavens, she tried to reassure herself.

A month later, David returned, alone. Valerie was relieved, but couldnt resist asking, David, wheres your latest sweetheart?

She told me, Wild flowers arent for old donkeys like you! I suppose I was too old for her, he laughed.

Listen, mum, you always rag on about Anna. Heres something you didnt knowAnna has two children. I only found out recently. Remember how she used to travel back and forth constantly, supposedly to help her mum? She was off visiting her kids in the countrysidetheir father told me himself. He even came to see me at work, and hes an all right bloke, raising the kids himself, waiting for Anna to come home. She kept mum for five years! And shed have kept quiet forever, if her husband hadnt explained. Can you believe it? What was she thinking? David was flabbergasted.

Calm yourself, David. I think Anna still loves you, truly. Lifes like that, the heart goes where it will. Its just a pity when innocent children become a bargaining chip. Parents running in circles, and all the while, children just need love from both. I cant forget Annashe was a good girl, said Valerie quietly.

Dont worry, mum, shes still a good person, David joked.

Another year drifted by. Victor left this worlda victim of cirrhosis of the liver. He lingered for half a year, begging forgiveness from Valerie and David for his wasted life.

At the graveyard, Valerie turned to her son: You know how many years and nerves your father drank away? Everything he ever drank, I cried away. And yet, David If I could, Id suffer it all again, just to see Victor walk out of that grave. Thats love for you

She wept openly, laying fresh flowers on Victors grave, and David took her by the arm. They walked home together in mournful silence.

At the college, people pitied Valerie Green. For the first time, she confided, Im all alone now. Davids off living his own wild life. If only hed given me a granddaughterlife might go on. Where does one find the strength for what comes next?

Another year sped by. Valerie retired. It hurt to remember how Victor once waited on the college steps. Hard to believe those days had ended forever.

December crept in, bringing its annual flurry. The worldgrown-ups and children alikehummed with expectancy.

On New Years Eve, Valerie sat by herself, telly flickering, a Christmas tree glittered in the corner. Bowls of salad, satsumas, and a bottle of bubblyjust in case David appeared, though he always seemed to have a new love by now. Would he ever settle?

The doorbell rang. Valerie started. David had keyswhod disturb her at this hour?

She peered through the peephole.

Heavensits Anna! Valerie flung open the door and, before she knew it, was clasping Anna tightly. Then she noticed, huddled at Annas side, a tiny little girl. Valerie bustled about, settled them at the table with tea and whatever she had on hand. Anna asked if her daughter could sleep, and once the little one was tucked up, Valerie finally got a good look at hershe saw in her Davids features, a miniature echo.

Tell me, Anna. What brings you here? Valeries voice shook with hope.

Valerie, I want to confess something, Anna began.

I know everything, my dear. David told me. But come on, get to the point Valerie hurried her along.

In short, shes your granddaughter, Anna breathed out.

Yes, Id gathered. Davids own daughter. But what now? asked Valerie, confused.

Could I leave my little girl with you, just for a time? I made it up with my husband, but he wont accept Verity. He says he needs to care for his own. Im in a mess, all tangled up. Please help me! Anna pleaded.

Well, thats some New Years present youve brought me, Valerie mused.

But youve retired now. You wont be bored, I promise. Ill visit often. My daughters name is Verityshes a year and three months, Anna insisted hopefully.

In the morning, Anna was gone. On the table was a note: Love you, Valerie Green! Happy New Year! Kiss David for me. Next to it, a bag of the little ones things, and her documents. Valerie read the birth certificate: Verity Davidson.

Our familys own. WellVictor has gone, Verity has come, she smiled sadly.

She bent over her sleeping granddaughter, kissed her smooth forehead. You are my unexpected joy.

Years passed and Verity started school, calling Valerie Gran and David Daddy. He doted on his little Nicky, still searching for happiness somewhere out of reach.

Anna never returned.

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An Unexpected Joy At the department in the university, no one among the colleagues would have believed that Valeria Evans’s husband was a hopeless alcoholic. It was her sorrowful secret and bitter burden. …Valeria Evans was a lecturer, a senior lecturer, and head of the department. At work, she was greatly respected as a specialist. Her reputation was impeccable. Everyone thought Valeria had it all, in every sense. How could they not? Her husband often met her at the university gates so they could walk home arm in arm. “Well, Valeria, you are such a lucky woman! Your husband is so distinguished, attentive, well-bred, handsome…” the younger staff members would sigh admiringly. “Oh girls, don’t be jealous!” Valeria would deflect. Only she knew what her ‘gentleman’ became at home. Victor drank himself senseless, staggering in filthy and barely human, unable even to fit the key into the door, falling asleep in the hallway. Valeria dragged him in, covered him with a throw (so he wouldn’t freeze), and retreated to her dissertations—first the PhD, then her doctorate. She always left a jug of water nearby to silence his midnight cries: “Val! Water… Water!” Each morning, she simply stepped over him, went to work, and brought kindness, knowledge, and reason to her students—a cycle that might last a week, a month… And one day, Victor would be waiting again at the university steps, the picture of sobriety, to walk his wife home. Clean, pressed, and smiling. As Valeria exited, surrounded by colleagues, Victor would rush over, peck her cheek, and ask: “How was your day, love?” “All right, Vic. Let’s go home,” Valeria would sigh quietly, as the staff looked on, charmed by this “perfect couple.” “Valeria’s so lucky with her husband…” they’d remark. But inside those doors, Valeria fell silent—her quiet revenge. She knew silence was powerful, and Victor suffered under the weight of her accusing hush, though over the years, he adapted. He’d walk her home, then scuttle off “on business”—to drink again. …Valeria and Victor had been married for twenty-eight years. Their love was once mutual, tender, seemingly everlasting. Then, like down feathers from a pillow, it scattered—impossible to catch or piece together. …Early in their marriage, they struggled to have a child. Valeria fretted, sure a family without children was incomplete. At last, a son was born: Dimitri, the light of her life. Money was tight; Victor left all housework and childcare to Valeria, saving his energy for sneaking drinks. Exhausted, she only caught on to his wrongdoings later; young and naïve, she was too busy to notice. She was stunned the day she found a bottle on the balcony. “Vic? Whose is this?” Valeria asked. “Take a guess,” Victor joked. There were rows. Tears, pleas, threats—the usual script. …Years passed. Victor drifted in and out of jobs, always losing them to his drinking. He offered little hope, but Valeria never divorced—her mother’s words echoing: “Darling, you only marry once! The first husband is from God, the second from the Devil. Even if he’s made of straw, he’s yours. There’s no father dearer to a child.” Valeria dreaded a “Devil’s husband.” She climbed her career ladder, knowing she could rely only on herself. She became oddly used to Victor’s “episodes,” almost pitying him—nothing more. Everything inside her had dried up and died. Her pride was Dimitri. He grew into a catch—finding his first love at fourteen, another at nineteen, and so on. Too fond of romance, he’d bring home a new girlfriend just as she’d gotten used to the last. One girl, Anna, stayed five years. Valeria grew to love her and called her “daughter-in-law.” The family urged a wedding, but Anna just shrugged: “I’m ready. Dima’s the one waiting…” At last, Anna vanished. Dimitri soon introduced Lena, no older than eighteen: “She’ll live with us. We’re in love,” he announced. Valeria protested, demanding Anna back. Offended, Dima and Lena left. For the first time, Valeria realized she truly missed Anna—five years was no small thing. “A player, my son. At least he doesn’t drink…” she consoled herself. A month later, Dima returned—alone. When Valeria asked after his ‘latest love,’ he revealed Anna had two children she kept secret, visiting them whenever she claimed she was at her mother’s. Her ex-husband had told Dima. Valeria defended Anna: “Maybe she still loves you, Dima. Sometimes life just turns out that way. It’s the children who suffer; they just need love.” Dima smiled: “She’s still a good person, Mum.” …A year passed. Victor died of cirrhosis after months of agony, tearfully asking Valeria and Dima’s forgiveness before he went. At the grave, Valeria told her son, “Do you know how many years and nerves your father cost me? For every bottle he drank, I shed a tear. And yet, I’d go through it all again, just to have him back. That’s love for you…” As she wept openly, her son quietly walked her home. At the university, Valeria finally confided, “I’m alone now. Dima has his own busy life—I only wish he’d give me a grandchild. That would make it all easier. How do you go on? Where to find the strength?” …Another year flew by. Valeria retired. She still missed waiting on the steps for Victor—hard to believe the past would never repeat. December’s end brought the usual flurry. Everyone was anticipating a miracle! On New Year’s Eve, Valeria was alone—tree trimmed, salad and mandarins on the table, champagne poured. “Maybe Dima will stop by… perhaps he’s fallen in love again… Will he ever settle down?” The doorbell rang. Valeria started—her son had his own key. She peered out: “My goodness, Anna!” Valeria flung open the door and hugged her unexpected guest. Only then did she spot the tiny girl beside Anna. Flustered, she fetched food and tea. Anna settled the girl to sleep. And looking closely, Valeria suddenly saw… Dima’s face, in miniature. “Well, Anna—what’s brought you here?” “Mrs. Evans—I need to confess something,” Anna began. “I know it all, dear. Dima told me. Out with it…” “She’s your granddaughter,” Anna whispered. “I guessed. Dima’s girl, right? He won’t turn her away. But what now?” “Could she stay here for a while? I’ve reconciled with my husband, but he won’t accept Veronica—says he has his own to raise first. I’m in a fix. Please, help me!” Anna pleaded. “What a New Year’s present you’ve given me,” Valeria mused. “You’re retired now—no time for boredom, I promise! I’ll come often. Her name is Veronica. She’s sixteen months old,” Anna pleaded. …By morning, Anna was gone. On the table: a note. “I love you, Mrs. Evans! Happy New Year! Love to Dima.” Next to it: a bag of Veronica’s things and documents—“Veronica Dimitrievna.” “She takes after the family. Well, Victor is gone—and now Veronica has come,” Valeria said with a sad smile. She kissed her sleeping granddaughter’s forehead. “My unexpected joy!” …Veronica started Year One. She called Valeria “Gran,” and Dima “Dad.” He doted on his daughter Nicky—and still chased his unattainable happiness. Anna never visited again…
Jag gick på restaurang för att träffa min fästmans föräldrar för första gången – men det de gjorde f…