I once had the sort of marriage that made the neighbours mutter, What a lucky couple! My husband, Michael, and our two whirlwindsEmma and Jackwere my whole world. Then, one ordinary Thursday, the world went topsyturvy. Michael was coming home from the factory when a lorry ploughed into his van. I thought Id never get past that horror, but Mum clucked her tongue and said, Youve got to stay upright for the kids. So I swallowed my tears, put on a brave face and worked like a onewoman army. When the kids finally stretched their legs, I packed a suitcase and set off on a stint overseas, because I had no financial cushion to fall back on.
First stop: a tiny town in Spain, where I learned that paella is not a synonym for paycheck. After a few months of juggling waitstaff jobs, cleaning gigs and a stint as a souvenirshop clerk, I managed to earn enough to send a modest sum home each month. The money eventually bought Emma and Jack their first flat, and I gave my own flat a makeover that would have made a homeimprovement show blush. I puffed up with pride and even started dreaming of a permanent return to my native Manchester.
That dream was knocked sideways a year ago when I bumped into Arthur Whitaker at a community centre. Hes an Englishman through and through, though hes spent the last twenty years living in London after emigrating from the north. We struck up a friendship, and I felt a flicker of something that could be more than just a weekly cup of tea.
The only hitch was that Arthur couldnt move back to my hometown, and I was itching to be back with my own family. So I booked a ticket, packed a tiny bag, and flew home. I first saw Emma and Jack, then paid a visit to my parents. The only person I couldnt find time for was my fatherinlaw; his garden gnome seemed to have taken a permanent vacation while my schedule filled up faster than a Black Friday sale.
One afternoon my best mate Clairewho works the front counter of a local boutiquestopped by for a cuppa and dropped a bombshell:
Your motherinlaw is absolutely mortified with you!
How on earth did you hear that? I sputtered.
She was chatting with a neighbour. She says youve become a bit of a swank, that the money has gone to your head, and that youve never sent a penny her way.
Hearing that felt like a cold splash of seawater. Id raised two kids on my own, scraped together every penny, and still she thought I was the one who wasnt helping. I couldnt even afford to slip a few coins over the garden fence for the old mans roses.
The urge to bolt out of the house vanished, though my nerves were doing somersaults. I bought a sack of groceries, trotted over, and tried to keep the conversation light. Yet the words from Claire kept tickling the back of my mind. Finally, I blurted out:
Do you know its never been a cakewalk for me? Ive been working my socks off for the kids, with no safety net in sight.
My motherinlaw, eyes narrowing, replied, Were also on our own now. Weve got grandchildren who help a bit, but were still flying solo. You should come back and lend a hand.
She looked as if Id just insulted her favourite biscuit. I didnt even get the chance to mention that I now have a boyfriend living just a tube ride away. I left the kitchen feeling more deflated than a popped balloon. Now Im stuck wondering whether Im really expected to foot the bill for my late husbands family. Im at my wits end!
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