A Husband Needed Urgently
Dearest Mum, you simply must find yourself a new husband! Trulyits awfully urgent!
I can still recall how that morning, Margaret nearly dropped her teacup, which splashed ever so slightly onto her linen cloth. She set it down, cleared her throat, and fixed her gaze, half incredulous, upon her daughter.
May I ask what on earth prompts this demand? she replied, striving for calm.
Young Emily shifted from foot to foot, her eyes cast down to study the floral border of the rug. She looked rather sheepish, but there was an unmistakable resolve beneath her embarrassment.
You see… today, I told Father that you were seeing someone, Emily sighed deeply. He wore me to a frazzle with all his questions! Always asking if youd met a man! Until now, I said no, and then hed launch into a long speech about how youd made a dreadful mistake by leaving him. That you didnt know your own mind, letting such a marvellous husband slip through your fingers!
There was frustration, confusion, and not a little anger towards her father in Emilys glance upward.
And then… he constantly repeats that youll regret it, that youll come to your senses, and that youll never find anyone better. So I lost my temper and announced that you had met someone.
Margaret absently tucked her hair behind her ear. The familiar tones of her former husbands voice returned to her with easethat forced confidence and the way any conversation would become a soliloquy extolling his own virtue.
I can imagine the colourful ways he put it, she replied, a flicker of wryness in her voice. Hes never been able to accept that I left him, the model husband. Sometimes Im convinced Oliver insists on your visits at weekends just to gather fresh gossip, more for his ego than any desire to catch up with you.
Emily exhaled heavily and dropped herself onto the sofa, folding her legs beneath her. Leaning against a cushion, she traced the upholsterys pattern with idle fingers, gathering her thoughts.
I think so too, she murmured, her gaze drifting. I spend an hour and a half listening to him boast about himself, and the rest of the time, he hardly remembers Im there. He doesnt even ask about schoolwork or if I need anything
It was so matter-of-fact; for Emily, this routinewaking up, breakfast, school, homework, evenings with her own thoughtshad long since lost the power to upset her.
She flopped against the sofa and peered at the ceiling, silently recounting her recent conversation with her father. It had opened, as always, with his latest victorythis time, a detailed account of deft negotiations with business partnersmoving on to future plans and workplace woes, and ending with how everyone underestimated his brilliance. An hour and a half of monologue; Emily had even mentally checked the time, so she wouldnt forget to mention it to her mother.
When shed tried to share news about her school maths competition, Father merely offered a distracted Well done, before steering the conversation back to himself: At your age, I was already… so on and so forth.
Emily shrugged gently, dismissing the memory. Shed become inured to it. As far back as she could remember, Father was thoroughly absorbed in his own affairs. The family hovered somewhere on the edge of his attentionimportant, but not enough to draw him away from his own favourite subject: himself.
He could turn any topic back to his tribulations. If Mum complained of tiredness, hed detail the trials of his working day. If Emily was troubled by friends, hed drift back to tales of his dazzling school days. Other peoples concerns seemed invisible or insignificant to him.
Emily often wondered how Mum had endured fifteen years by his side. The man was utterly besotted with himself! Perhaps Mum stayed for her daughters sake, not wanting Emily to grow up without a father. For years shed truly believed hed change, would start taking an interest in their lives but nothing ever changed. Only after the divorce did Emily realise, to her surprise, how much more peaceful life could be without him. Free from having all attention sucked away, as if anything else was just a trifling distraction.
So why, pray tell, is there now a mad rush for me to remarry? Margarets tone was a touch sharper than intended. You made your claimso what?
When Dad heard, he changed entirely! Emily pressed a cushion to her chest, her brows drawn in discomfort. First he went pale, then red, and bellowed so loudly even Mrs. Jenkins from next door knocked to check all was well! I admit, he frightened me a bit.
She fell momentarily silent, recalling her fathers strained, frantic voice. His hands curled into fists, his eyes shifting in panic, as if he were about to burst.
He demanded the mans namea description, everything! I refused, told him youd asked me specifically not to tell him Honestly, Mum, dont be surprised if he starts calling up, harassing you.
Margaret slowly turned toward her daughter, leaning against the window sill, observing her intently. Indeed, she thought, she could well picture Olivers upcoming dramatics Thank you, darling, she sighed inwardly.
Margaret settled herself on the sofa beside Emily, sighing, and wrapped her arms around her. There was little to do nowthe deed was done, and they couldnt take words back.
Why, though? Why did you make up such a story, love? she asked softly, rocking her daughter gently. We had such peace. Now were back to his theatrics and moansI rather feel like switching off the telephone altogether.
Emily slipped out of her embrace and sat upright, her expression earnest, her eyes shining with conviction.
Because youre wonderful! she said, with such confidence that Margaret couldnt help but smile. Youre clever and beautiful, people adore you, and men are drawn to youIm not blind! While Fathers always running you down. I was sick of it!
Margaret stroked Emilys hair softly, her fingers combing through the gentle waves. A blend of tenderness and bemused embarrassment showed in her eyes.
I understand, darling, she said gently. Honestly, I worried you wouldnt want me to start anything new. After all, its been only six months since I left your father.
That admission didnt come easily. She feared, somewhere deep down, that Emily might see a new romance as betrayal or an attempt to replace her father. Margaret studied her daughters face for any sign of disapprovalbut there was none.
Nonsense! huffed Emily, crossing her arms. She looked so much older thenwise beyond her years, fiercely determined to state her mind. All that matters is that youre happy!
Margaret kept gazing at her daughter, and her worry eased, dissolved by Emilys certainty. Perhaps it was time to stop letting the past tie her in knots.
You are a star, truly, Margaret murmured, drawing Emily close once more. Thank you for looking after your mum.
Emily nestled into her side, and at that moment, both felt that warmth between them grow still strongertheir small family, despite it all, knitting ever closer as the days passed.
***************************
Margaret sat at her desk, vainly trying to focus on the numbers before her. The report blurred, and a dull ache hammering in her templesone that had started in the morninggrew by lunchtime into something ghastly. She rubbed her forehead in slow, mechanical circles, desperate for relief.
Finally, with a sigh, she asked her colleague to pop to the chemist round the corner. With the help of a couple of paracetamol washed down from the office jug, she attempted to return to the papers. It was no use. Her head weighed a tonne, and every soundthe clack of typewriters, the whirr of a fan, the faint conversations by the doorsent fresh needles of pain through her skull.
Just then, the security guard poked his head into the office. His face was polite, but his eyes suspicious.
Margaret Weston, theres a gentleman here for you, he announced quietly, holding the door ajar, your former husband. Would you care to come down, or shall we show him out?
She froze. A wave of irritationtinged with exhaustionrose within her. She drew a deep breath, forcing calm.
Ill be down. Apologies for the disruption, Margaret said, pushing her chair back.
Mentally she cursed Oliver. Of all times! As if the workday, already insufferable, needed this capstone. The headache, the fatigue, and now her ex-husband arriving out of the blueat her workplace, of all things, making a scene for all to see.
She walked to the door, each step measuredthe quicker she moved, the more her head pounded. The corridor was lively: staff darting about, laughter by the lift, a cluster huddled round the noticeboard. Margaret moved among them, feeling her tension winding tighter.
In the reception hall, there was no mistaking Oliver. He was pacing, first towards the desk, then away, wild gestures punctuating his speech as he protested to the guards. Their faces were polite but close to bristlingshould trouble arise, theyd not hesitate to act.
What do you want? demanded Margaret flatly as she approached, annoyed but composed. What is this scene for? Looking to meet the police? I can arrange it if you wish.
He whirled round, his face ruddy and eyes blazing, whether with rage or anxiety she couldnt tell. He strode over, jabbing a finger like an accusation.
You! he nearly shouted. Emily told me everything! Only six months since our split and youre already with another man?!
His tone was a mess of disbelief, offence, jealousyhed clung, perhaps, to the hope it was a prank. Now, facing Margarets even gaze, he knew otherwise.
Margarets eyebrows arched, her head tilted. Her posture stayed languid, but in her eyes shone a flash of cold steel.
Must I vow lifelong loyalty to youeven post-divorce? she replied, voice even but sharp. You ask too much, Oliver. Especially as you yourself hardly rated fidelity as essential in marriage.
He stopped short, his accusing hand dropping. Uncertainty flickered across his features; he hadnt expected so direct a retort.
People moved aboutthe staff, guests, workmensome glancing over, others pointedly ignoring things. For this brief moment, though, Margaret and Olivers world seemed to constrict to a tiny, fraught space between thema space full of old grievances, unspoken resentments, and a new reality Oliver had yet to accept.
You! he spluttered, but Margaret interrupted.
No more scenes, Oliver, she said, tone rather softer, yet just as resolute. If theres something to discuss, well do so calmly. Not here and not like this.
Scenes?! Ill show you a scene!
Olivers voice boomed about the hall; his cheeks streaked scarlet, cords in his neck standing out, fists clenching and unclenching, helpless with agitation. He stepped forwards and back, uncertain whether to press home his outrage or retreat.
I wont have my daughter living under a strangers roof! he fairly bellowed, unaware of the curious glances he drew. Ill take Emily from you! Youll never see her again! You
His words spiralled into hysteria, but Margaret only raised an eyebrow, her expression bordering on amused indifference. Take Emily? That would be the day! Any court would side with her.
Finished? An actor, are you? she replied, her tone dry, almost teasing. What are youauditioning for the circus?
Whats all this, then?
Oliver froze at the unfamiliar, calm voice. In the doorway to the hall stood a man in a crisp, navy suit; relaxed but unshakeably confident, with steady, scrutinising eyes. The security guards, previously amused but attentive, straightened instantlyclearly, this was someone of importance at the company.
Keep out of it! Oliver snapped, sending a glare at the newcomer, his cheeks still burning. Its a private matterdoesnt concern you.
The man took his time, striding calmly forward and stopping just short, where he could see both parties. He wore a faint, knowing smile, which seemed only to rub Oliver further the wrong way.
A private matter, the man said eventually, when argued privately. When you start a row in public, it becomes everyones business.
Margaret observed, feeling the tension between them gather like a gathering storm. She hadnt expected Matthew Ashcroft, the managing director, but his appearance was, oddly, rather reassuringat least, it had interrupted Olivers tantrum.
Oliver bristled, about to retort, but Ashcroft stood his ground, undeterred.
And whom, precisely, are you? Oliver spat, trying to hold onto some shred of authority. Sticking your nose into matters that dont concern you.
With perfect composure, Matthew Ashcroft moved to Margarets side, slipping an arm around her waist in a way that brooked no misinterpretation.
Who am I? he replied smoothly, his voice as unyielding as icy water. Im the one who makes Margaret happy. If youd care to shout at my lady again, youll be facing much worse than a trip to the local constabulary. And if you attempt to use your daughter as a bargaining chip I trust Im clear?
Oliver falteredhis anger fading to pallor, uncertain perhaps for the first time since this all began. He gazed between Matthew and Margaret, realising that matters had slipped beyond his power. Flustered, he tried to muster some last word, but none came.
After a sullen moment, he grimaced, mumbled something incomprehensible, and spun round. His previously bullish stride was now stiff and awkward, desperate to salvage some dignity. Just before leaving, he muttered:
Well, you can forget ever seeing a penny of maintenance from me!
Goodness, as if Id want it, Margaret scoffed lightly as he vanished from sight, relief blossoming in her tone. At least Emily neednt visit him again!
A beat passed as she realised the company directors steady arm still circled her waistsimple, yet unexpectedly intimate. Embarrassed, her cheeks tinged pink, she gently extricated herself.
With an awkwardif gratefulsmile, she turned to her champion.
Thank you so much, Mr. Ashcroft. You truly have no idea how much youve helped me!
Her voice was full of genuine gratitude, not simply for his intervention, but for the calm, decisive manner in which hed acted.
He returned her thanks with a gentle smile, warmth flickering in his eyes.
Might I buy you lunch? he asked welcomingly, offering his arm.
Margaret hesitated a momentwas it too soon, was it proper?but dismissed her worries. Matthew Ashcroft had shown nothing but respect and support, and she found herself eager to know him better.
Gladly, she said, setting her hand in his.
His touch was firmsteadfast, not insistent. Margaret could feel the keen current of excitement there, a welcomed counterpoint to the tension of Olivers arrival.
Later, seated at a quaint restaurant near the office, the conversation flowed far more easily. The mellow glow of the lamps, the faint strains of piano music, and the aroma of fresh bread made it a wholly welcoming scene.
Gradually, over coffee, she learnt that her rescuer had quietly admired her for some time. He spoke simply, without embellishmentthe contentment in his feelings was heartfelt, never boastful.
I hesitated for so long, he confessed, stirring his cup absentmindedly. You always seemed so collected I could see youd had a rough timeafter the divorce, and the rest. I didnt want to intrude.
Margaret listened in silence. There was sincerity, gentlenessno presumption.
And when I saw him shouting at you today, Ashcroft frowned, I simply couldnt stand by.
Margaret couldnt help but smile gently. Shed long suspected Mr. Ashcrofts attention, but misread itnever suspecting she might be the object of genuine feeling.
*******************
Three months after that tempestuous office encounter, Margaret and Matthew were married. The wedding was everything she dreamed ofgraceful and lively, with every detail seen to by Matthew, her wishes made real.
Emily was all happiness for her mother. That morning, she helped Margaret dress, ensuring every hair was perfect and every button in place. When the happy couple exchanged rings, Emily hugged them both tight.
Im so happy for you! she whispered, joy unmistakable.
Still, Emily was honest from the start:
I do like you, Matthew, she confided one evening when they were all alone, and Im glad Mum isnt by herself any more. OnlyI cant bring myself to call you Dad. Not yet. However silly he is, I already have a father of my own.
Matthew nodded, not a hint of hurt in his eyes.
I understand, Emily. Thats as it should be. The important thing is that were together now.
Oliver, for his part, received a wedding invitation out ofwell, not malice, perhaps, but something close to it. Margaret debated whether to send it; but in the end, she thought, let him see that her life moved on, perfectly well, without him. The invitation went in the post without note or flourish, simply card and address.
Unsurprisingly, Oliver did not attend. In fact, the idea seemed only to provoke a simmering resentment. Instead of turning up, he busied himself making phone callsold university friends, distant relationsrelaying his perceived injury.
Would you credit it? She invited me to her wedding! he blurted to the first friend who answered. After everything thats gone on!
His friend, more amused than indignant, asked what was so scandalising. Oliver waved it away derisively.
How could she do it? So humiliating!
Thereafter, day after day, the speech repeated. He rang number after number, seeking sympathy: Shes in such a hurry! Not six months have gone byhow could she possibly be in love? She just wants to forget me, thats all!
Other times, hed switch tack: Didnt even give me a chance to mend things! If wed just spoken, maybe…
Never finishing his sentencewhat exactly might he have changed? That vague nostalgia hung in the air.
At last, when the script had worn itself out, hed resort to self-pity: I did so much for her, and what thanks do I get? Justgone. Took our daughter as well!
These parting shots rang hollow. Most listeners would nod, offer platitudes (We all move on, Oliver), or, rather more often, fall silent, unsure what to say. The more he protested, the less convincing he sounded. No one called Margaret reckless or ungrateful. If anything, everyone seemed to think shed a right to happinessmuch to Olivers agitation.
In the end, wearied by his own ineffectual campaign, Oliver gave up calling. He sat in his flat, staring at stray bits of Margaret left behinda forgotten hairclip, an old photo album, a dress or two gone smalland knew, however bitterly, that life marched on. He just hadnt found a place for himself in it yet.
With Oliver out of sight, Margaret, Matthew, and Emily settled into a gentle, steady rhythmtheir days filled with small joys: family suppers, weekend rambles through the countryside, good-natured debates over which film to watch next. Their little family grew quietly richer as the seasons turned, and I often look back, glad they found such peace at last.
