Two Threads
Hurry up, Daisy! We’ve got such a busy day ahead! implored Mrs. Lydia Baker to her little dog. Weve already circled the whole park three times now, and you still havent finished your business! Ive planned cheese scones for breakfast and theres much to be done.
Daisy, snub-nosed and descendedso the breeder claimedfrom the mighty guardians of long-ago emperors, shot her owner a reproachful look, as if to say, Age, dear heart! Dont you see? Growing older is no picnic!
Lydia, now Mrs. Baker to most, read that look all too well, and it only weakened her resolve. In the early morning, getting ready for a stroll with Daisy, she could just about convince herself that age wasnt a sentence and life still held plenty of promise. But by the end of their walk, the warmth in her bones cooled so much even her thick parka couldnt shield her. The fresh spring breeze that had just delighted her now seemed more like a spiteful gale, and Daisy, in her slow stubbornness, became the reason behind Lydias cloud of melancholy.
For what was waiting at home? The kitchen, cleaning, laundry, her usual television drama, and a husband whosince retiringhad become quite the moaner. Henry would complain about fortune having thrown him out of work too soon, sit for hours in silence that made Lydia feel she was somehow at fault, or launch into grumbles over nothing at all.
He grumbled loudly, too, fully aware that Lydia, after her illness, was rather hard of hearingleaving her with little to do but let his familiar complaints fade into the background, struggling all the while to preserve any spark for the day ahead.
More and more these days, Lydia felt almost ancient. Sometimes a little thinga bunch of first tulips, a new face cream that actually workedgave her a flicker of youth, but her enthusiasm quickly faded the moment Henry pursed his lips and muttered, Trying to look young, are you? What for?
At those moments, Lydia wanted to fling something heavy at the floor, shout at the top of her lungs, and rush out of the house, Daisy in tow. But after a brief simmer, shed recall how Henry had once been, all the things hed done for her, and she was seized by shame for allowing herself even a seconds weakness.
Lydia met Henry as a university student. Spirited, clever, with a quick wit and a pretty face, she was the pride of her year. Young men flocked, but Lydia held herself apart. She dreamed of a great, shining love. The sort that turns the sky to diamonds.
Her mother, Mrs. Martha Smith, always said so. Youre my precious gem, love. Youve got character, and beauty besides. The worlds yours, you only need to wait. Never settle for less. Wait for your time. Then youll have happiness to light your home. Listen to your mothershe wont steer you wrong.
Lydia listened, as best she could.
But when has a mothers word mattered above love? When love comes, it comes unbidden and wont wait for permission.
Yet Lydias first love wasnt Henry at all. When her moment dawned, they hadnt even met.
No, the chosen one was a handsome, lively young man named Alexander. He was just like Lydia: popular, cheerful, always surrounded by an adoring crowd. The two studied together in the same group for two yearsbarely glancing at each other. Then, a spark. The whole class marvelled at the sudden, blazing romance.
There were flowers, evening walks, revision interrupted by kisses before examseverything. Lydias parents whispered among themselves, already planning the wedding. And then, something happened that overturned her lifeand her familyscompletely.
It was Littlehampton, a famous seaside retreat, where Alexander convinced Lydia to go. There she experienced love beneath the starsand the bitter taste of betrayal.
One hopeful evening, Lydia found Alexander on the beach with her best friend.
Only the sea and storm-darkening sky knew the strength it took Lydia not to collapse, to flee instead, heart in shreds, and never look back. Thunder broke as she climbed the path from the beach, rain lashing down, and a crash overhead made Lydia squeal and crouch in terror.
Perhaps that shock brought some sense back to heror perhaps reason simply triumphed as it always should. She clung to a bush, steadied herself, and whispered, Everything will be alright
She didnt believe the words, but saying them gave her strength. Soaked to the bone, she returned to the guesthouse, telling no one what shed seen.
The next morning caught Lydia by the waves. The sea was rough, but it didnt deter anyone.
Where did you get to last night, Lydia? called Alexander, wrapping her in his familiar warm embrace. She slipped free.
You werent worried.
What are you on about? he laughed, tousle-haired and barely awake. Was it that Bouncing Cow cocktail? Told you not to try it! Cool off, Lydia. Come for a diplets race!
He dashed towards the water, beckoning. Lydia, bristling, moved to follow, determined to show she was no shrinking violet, but someone else caught her hand.
No need. Youre already the best, said a calm, quietly spoken fellownot much more than a familiar face from the hallways, but Lydia remembered his height and unusual ears.
Henry, he introduced himself, still holding her hand. Come on, lets go.
Lydia looked back at Alexander, who was already playing in the surf, oblivious to her. She nodded slowly.
The rest of the holiday Lydia retreated into herself, with Henry only keeping a respectful distance and not pressing her to talk.
Alexander, for his part, simply took someone elses hand and pretended nothing had ever existed between him and Lydianot a year of dates, whispered hopes, or dreams of the future. He erased her from his life as though the page had turned, leaving no need to return.
She returned home tanned, olderand not alone. The new life growing inside her kept Lydia awake at night, lost in anxious thoughts.
What should I do, Mum? Lydia confessed everything to her parents.
Live, my dove. The answers simple. If you take away this life, will you ever have peace?
No
Then dont be afraid. Were here for you. Well help.
Youre not angry?
Lord, no! Youre not the first. I was young too. No one can judge you. I do wish youd used your head, thoughthese things arent like eating a sweet. A choice like this changes your whole life. You know that now. I hope from here, you’ll think before you act. Your lifeno one else can live it for you, got it?
Yes
Lydia didnt yet know her fate was quietly winding two threads together.
Not even a week after she was back from the sea, Henry came to visit one evening.
Id like a word.
About what? Lydia clutched her cardigan, though the night was warm.
Will you marry me? Henry looked her square in the eye, certain somehow of her answer.
Just like that?!
Why wait? I dont know anyone betterand dont want to.
No, Henry. I cant. Lydia shook her head. You barely know me
Well, tell me.
Whats the point?
Because its our life, Lydia. Yours and mine. Or maybe ours.
Youll change your mind when you know everything, Lydia sighed.
Dont speak for me, frowned Henry. Thats my decision. Tell me.
The news of her pregnancy didnt seem to faze Henry in the least. He simply nodded and repeated his proposal, asking her to think over her answer.
And Lydia did. But she stood firm and refused.
Its not your responsibility. Find someone else, Henry.
Thats for me to decide, he said, taking her words in stride, but he never once thought to disappear from her life.
He stayed close for the entire pregnancy, and it was Henry who came with Lydias parents to collect her and her daughter from hospital.
The little girl, named Emily for Lydias mother, was born in the same hospital where Lydia herself had come into the world.
What will you call her? asked the midwife, doting on the healthy, loud baby who announced her arrival with a roar.
Emily. After my mum.
A lovely name. Be happy, Emily!
Back at her parents, Lydia found her mother had prepared everything, down to the finest detail.
If only you could see the cot Henry brought! Its a thing of beauty!
Is it? Lydia hid her smile, sensing the truthher daughter would have a father.
The cot was indeed wonderful, polished wood glowing in the soft light of Lydias old room.
Its beautiful she ran her fingers over the carving, watching Emily sleep. Did you make it?
Who else? My dad was a craftsmantaught me all I know. I figured I could manage a cot for my girl.
For your daughter?
If you let me. Wont ask again. If you ever change your mind, just say. Ill be waiting.
Lydia did, but not straight away. Two years passed before something shifted in her heart and she realised Henry was no longer a stranger.
The wedding was simple and cheerful. Little Emily clapped her hands in delight to see her parents first dance.
The years after brought much: the birth of a son, good fortune, sorrow, the slow ticking of fate that makes up a life. Their children grew, found partners and homes elsewhere, returning to visit on holidays and filling the house with laughter.
Now, Lydia and Henry found themselves alone. Even Daisy, the little dog Emily had given them, couldn’t quite ease the ache. Theyd become so used to living for others that now, with no one nearby, loneliness seeped into every corner. Emily lived in London; their son Arthur had joined the army and was posted out east. They saw the children over Christmas and summer, but it was never enough.
Returning home, Lydia washed Daisys muddy paws, tied on her apron, and busied herself with the scones when Henry strode into the kitchen waving a letter.
Dance for joy, Liddy! he cried.
Whats all this? Lydia grumbled, suddenly the reluctant one now.
A letter from Arthur! Good news!
And whats that?
Lydia opened the fridge for the cheese, but she dropped her favourite bowl when she heard, Hes being posted to London! Hell be near Emily! And we’re invited tootime we moved, love. Weve been rattling round here far too long. Emilys asked us every year, but now Arthur and his family will be close as well! Hes even found us a flat in the next building. If we sell up ours and my parents place, well have enough for everything. He says to think it over. So, what do you say?
Lydia sighed, stepped over the shards, and hugged her husband.
What is there to think about, Henry? We should go! This is our lifeeven if there isnt much left of it. No one can live it for us.
Henry kissed her, gently set her aside and fetched a cloth.
Let me, youll cut yourself!
Oh, dont fuss! You always moan about me trying to be young, and now youre suddenly worried I might hurt myself. What harm could possibly come to an old toadstool like me?
Youre not old, Lydia! Henry looked up in astonishment. To me, youre just as wonderful as you ever were. Thats why youve never needed to chase youth. Youre exactly the same as that girl at Littlehampton, remember?
And in that instant, Lydia felt the sea air again, the salty spray on her face and the steady hand holding hers tight. Everything else faded to nothing. She smiled as she gently took the cloth from Henrys hand.
Put the kettle on, darling. Otherwise, your back will be cursing you this evening after all this fussing! For a moment, Lydia squeezed her husbands hand and smiled. I remember, Henry
In life, the threads of our journey may tangle and fray, but its in the weaving togetherwith patience, bravery, and lovethat we find true happiness.
