23rd of September
Oh, life does have a way of throwing you a curveball when you least expect it. I would never have imagined that Robert my Robert, who I thought I knew better than anyone would turn out to be so irritatingly meticulous. When he decided to leave, he even counted the screwdriver set I gave him last Christmas once in silence, then again with that suspicious squint, as if I was hiding one away. He rushed around the flat, obsessively double-checking every corner to see if hed forgotten his orthopaedic insoles.
Ten years together gone, as if they meant nothing. Im 56, hes 60. Wed lived, as people say, in perfect harmony. Or so I thought. The allotment, seedlings, evening tea with digestives, and his endless police dramas which he cherished with a near religious devotion. We’d even planned to finally marry this autumn in the registry office to do things properly and make us official, as he liked to say.
Then one day, he was just standing in the hallway, twisting his cap in his hands, eyes darting about, and he suddenly blurted out:
Evelyn, dont take it personally. Youre a wonderful woman, steady and reliable but just too down to earth. Ive still got some life in me, you know! I need excitement, passion, a bit of adventure! With you, it feels like Ive already got one foot in the care home. I want a wife, not a granny.
I nearly choked. Granny? Me? The same woman who checked his blood pressure twice a day and reminded him to steer clear of salty things and that anything fried after six was, frankly, criminal?
Im with someone else, he finished off. Chloe. Shes 38. With her I feel like a lad again. Were going snowboarding and travelling. She makes me feel alive.
The door slammed. All that was left in the air was the smell of his heart medicine and that cheap aftershave hed suddenly started to pour on himself as if trying to wash away the years.
My first week was just dreadful lying there with my face to the wall, convinced it was all over. Officially written off, old, surplus to requirements, not that I even had the marriage certificate to show for it. Every time I looked in the mirror I saw a bloodhound staring back at me, tired and lost.
Then something shifted. I woke up one Saturday morning at seven, as usual, ready to make Robert his favourite porridge with water. Then I paused.
Why?
Instead, I made myself a coffee strong, with sugar, exactly as hed always disapproved: Thatll do you in, Evelyn! I sliced off a big wedge of the cake Id bought out of pure despair the day before. Then I perched myself up by the kitchen window. Silence. No mutterings about the morning news, no shuffling about in slippers, no groans at my TV choices.
And you know what? Living alone wasnt scary. In fact, it was unexpectedly delightful.
I had more money Robert adored posh treats, but we always went halves. Time too tons of it.
I didnt take up pottery like theyre always telling women my age in glossy magazines, but instead signed up for Zumba classes. There, I dance, giggle, sweat and no one ever clucks, Evelyn, are you sure your joints can cope?
I stopped dyeing my hair that sensible chestnut shade and got a short, highlighted cut. I bought jeans that supposedly werent age appropriate. And you know what? My back pain vanished. Turns out, it was just Robert sitting comfortably on it all those years.
Six months passed. Id all but forgotten Mr still in his prime. Went to the shopping centre to buy new trainers for dancing. Browsing the display, I suddenly heard a shrill, familiar voice:
Robbie, for goodness sake, hurry up! Well be late for the film! We still need popcorn!
I turned. Oh, heavens.
There was Chloe. Well, storming rather than strolling. A young woman, so-called everything about her enhanced: forehead shining, lips plumped beyond nature. Leopard print everywhere, teetering on stilettos, pushing her way through like a bulldozer.
Behind her trailed Robert. I barely recognised him gaunt, thinner, with a scrawny neck poking out of some absurd hoodie with a slogan on it. Worn-out, skinny jeans revealing his varicose veins for all the world to see.
His hands were full Chloes bags, a pizza box, assorted parcels. He was wheezing, face red, sweat running. You could see the last thing on his mind was snowboarding a sofa and heart pills were far more appealing.
Chlo, love, fancy sitting down for just a tick? Bit out of breath he managed.
Out of breath? Robert! You told me you were fit! Dont embarrass me, hurry up!
He looked up and saw me.
I stood there by the shop window in my stylish open coat, new trainers, a soft smile. Calm, rosy-cheeked from dance, free.
He just froze. There was such sorrow in his eyes, an unspoken plea: Save me. For a fleeting moment, I pitied him. He shuffled a step my way, mouth open
Robert! barked Chloe. Are you deaf or just daft?
I watched them go, struggling to stifle a laugh. Not a cruel laugh a liberating one.
He craved fire? Well, he got it. Only now its burning him out.
He wanted a shot at youth but forgot youth takes energy and the patience of a saint.
Now, no cosy granny, just a sergeant-major in high heels.
I want a wife, he always said. Well, he got what he wished for.
Now hes got neither a wife nor a granny.
Now hes just a worn-out granddad trailing after a stroppy granddaughter.
