I often think back to those bitter years, as if they were a dark chapter in a longago diary. I realized then that there was nobody dearer to me than Jane. I had left my wife; here was the passport, here was the divorce decree he would repeat it every time, and she would shiver. Everyone has a right to make a mistake; she, too, had nearly wasted her life.
Jane loved him with a madness that seemed unbreakable, convinced that the charming, smoothvoiced Anthony, with his dazzling smile, loved her just as fiercely.
They had been together for almost a year when Jane discovered she was pregnant, only to learn that the adored Anthony was already married.
Forgive me, he pleaded, my constant trips arent always for work I have a wife in another town.
I dont love her, but I cant abandon her yet. My career hinges on her fathers favour, he added.
What about me? What about the child? Jane asked, panic rising.
Of course well have the baby! Ill get a divorce, just a little later, and then well be together. Trust me! he promised.
She wept a little, then believed him. He was handsome, clever, kind no ordinary woman would ever think of letting him go.
But the wife had no chance; the love between Jane and Anthony seemed genuine. Jane was willing to wait as long as needed, especially since he had sworn she would need to wait only a few years.
A year after little Zara was born, Anthony vanished.
Fear gripped her; she called, wrote, and when that failed, she mustered the courage to go to his mothers house.
Once, Anthony had shown her where his mother lived.
Everythings fine with him, his mother, Mrs. Andrews, said, pursing her lips. And you would have had the sense not to meddle in our family.
All they had was a newborn; Anthonys work had finally settled.
But what about us? We too have a child, Jane sobbed.
The point, darling, was that you should have thought before getting involved with a married man, the stern mother cut in. And dont come here demanding anything. Its your own fault!
Jane had no idea where Anthony lived or worked; she hadnt even met any of his friends. They had each other, and that was enough.
The next year she spent waiting for his return, caring for her daughter as if by habit. She stared out the window almost every hour, listened for footsteps in the hallway, watched the faces of passing men, hoping each one might be him.
She believed he would come back, especially as modest sums appeared on her bank statements not large, but clearly from him, as she remembered sending them with Zara.
After a year and a half those transfers stopped. When Zara turned three, Jane finally understood that Anthony had abandoned them for his own family.
The pain was unbearable, yet a fierce resolve rose within her: she would prove to the traitor that she could also build a life, find a father for Zara, and live well.
By then Zara was in nursery school, and Jane had managed to get a job as a shop assistant. Her looks still turned heads, and suitors came in droves, though none stayed long. Few wanted to become a father to a tiny Zara; most only sought a night of drink and cheap fun.
Gradually the men who visited became more drinkers than fathers. Jane lost her shop job, took evening work cleaning floors, and her world sank lower even as Zaras voice begged, Mum, send them away, Im scared. Lets just live the two of us.
When Zara was six, a neighbour finally called child services. They rushed in, ready to inspect.
This is my private life! Stay out of it! Jane shouted, drunkenly.
Think of the child, a social worker snapped, look youre covered in grime, the girl is ragged and hungry
Im thinking of her! She needs a father, and I need a husband who will care for us!
The adults in the flat only shook their heads. No one could look at the filthy, frightened Zara without tears.
The council didnt strip Jane of parental rights outright; they gave her six months to improve, while Zara would spend time in a care home.
Jane missed the next hearing, and returned to drinking freely, welcoming men of every sort into her flat. For the next seven years she drifted between occasional cleaning jobs and bouts of alcoholism, selling whatever she could and spending it on drink. The local constable often chased away the drunken gatherings from her door.
Neighbours wondered how she hadnt drunk herself out of the house. She might have, had she not ended up in hospital after a knife fight. No one offered her more booze, and the shock of that broke her, yet she survived.
In that haze she met a determined counsellor, Dr. Clarke, who took a keen interest in her recovery. It wasnt easy relapses came, selfblame followed but she resolved to heal and, above all, bring her daughter home.
She would need to tidy the flat, find respectable work, and stop looking like a wreck. That plan almost succeeded thanks to Dr. Clarke and a group of recovering addicts, where she even made a friend who introduced her again to Anthony.
I never stopped thinking of you, Anthony said, eyes pleading. Forgive me, lets start anew.
At first Jane said no, wouldnt even let him into the flat. The former lover, now a middleaged, balding man with a belly, persisted, leaving bouquets of sweets, singing long love ballads about youthful errors and forgiveness.
Ive realised theres no one dearer to me than you. I left my wife; heres my passport, heres the divorce papers, he repeated, each time trembling her heart.
She remembered that everyone makes mistakes, and she too had almost thrown away her life.
Love, however, had not vanished entirely. Anthony, now genuinely eager to help bring Zara home, suggested they marry it would make everything easier.
Then a stranger called, introducing herself as Irene, Anthonys former wife.
Do you think this will just slip by? she demanded. Well see what the court decides!
What are you talking about? Jane asked, genuinely puzzled.
Oh, you know nothing? the woman smirked. My dear motherinlaw, youre a snake, completely out of your mind.
She claimed the flat and money for my child! And she didnt care about the grandson our legitimate son with Anthony!
I didnt know Jane whispered.
Now you do! I never knew you existed until the will was read, and I gave my husband a good shaking! He confessed everything!
She said she would not live with him any longer, that his father had thrown him out of work, but she would fight for the flat and the money. Anthony reluctantly admitted his exwife had spoken the truth.
This is a blessing from above! he urged Jane. I couldnt keep living with a wife I dont love!
She no longer needed convincing: the beloved was near, they would wed, everything would be fine. She believed that wholeheartedly.
Zara would inherit a good estate a plus, she thought while Jane still earned little, and Anthony scraped by with odd jobs.
A social worker later asked, Isnt it a bit late to think of this? she was startled. Your child has spent eight years in a childrens home. Have you ever visited?
It happened Jane looked away. But now we can take her back?
She showed the marriage certificate, the payslip, everything they could check.
It isnt that simple the worker replied.
The council investigated, aware of the inheritance, and doubted the parents sincerity. They also needed Anthony to officially register Zara as his child, something he had avoided years ago on a flimsy pretext.
But it wasnt the council that halted the reunion; Zara herself refused to see anyone.
I dont know you and I dont want to, she declared when Jane and Anthony arrived at the home for a meeting.
The loving parents barely recognised her. Zara had grown into a striking young woman; Anthony wept, All for my mother, yet it moved her not a inch.
She ignored the adults, pulling away whenever Jane tried to hug her, as if she were leprous. She turned down further meetings, saying, They lived their lives, didnt care about me. Now I dont care about them. End of story.
No one could force Zara to live with them.
Jane and Anthony still cling to hope that everything can be righted, though it seems an almost impossible task.
