The Husband Came Back with a Baby in Tow

I’m leaving! Ed murmured, his voice echoing down the hallway of the tiny flat on Camden Road.

Leaving where? his wife, Ivy, replied, eyes glued to a halffinished shopping list for the Christmas market.

Completely!

How can I be completely? What about the New Year?

In jokes about infidelity everything is absurd: Your neighbour called, said the horse races are cancelled! Your cod swam over and told me the roe is gone! The punchline lands, but in real life the taste is bitter and the laughter fades.

Ed had vanished before the first snowflake of the years end. Not to some faroff island where planes never touch down, but simply out the front door, his polished brogues clicking on the cracked pavement, a lingering trail of the expensive cologne Ivy had gifted him on their wedding day.

He had been packing for months, stuffing clothes into a battered suitcase while pleading, You have to understand, you have to forgive me. There was even a television programme about men who leave, and Ivys own mother had whispered, God will guide you. The Christmas tree was already glittered, the livingroom sofa a battlefield of tinsel, and Ivy, perched on it, was scribbling down the ingredients for a festive feast with friends. The mood was on the upandup, as it always is on the eve of another calendar flip; the precelebration feels louder than the celebration itself.

Fiftyfiveyearold Ivy Maxwell adored this time of year, just like most of the country. Yet the streets were losing their blanket of snow, and the lack of white softened the sparkle of the season. Still, the postBlackFriday sales had begun in early November, and Ivy, ever the prudent housekeeper, had already ordered every present, saving time, money, and nerves. Every sister would have a pair of earrings, no child or grandchild would be left out, and even the husband would get something.

Ed had bought himself a fine wool sweater adorned with reindeerssomething hed yearned for since his twenties. It cost Ivy a pittance, but what would she not do for the man she loved? Everything was already wrapped, tucked away in the cupboard, waiting for the right moment. What would he give her? A ring? No, perhaps moneyEd, at fiftythree, wasnt exactly a connoisseur of taste.

Then, without warning, he declared, Im leaving!

Leaving where? Ivy asked, still tangled in thoughts of ham, rosemary potatoes, and cranberry sauce.

Completely!

What do you mean completely? Ivy pressed, her voice trembling. And the New Year?

What New Year, Ivy? the man snarled, his brow furrowed. When will you ever grow up?

He spat the words out, each syllable a broken echo: Im leaving you! Completely! Do you understand? Ive fallen for someone else and were expecting a baby. Is that clear?

The clarity cut through Ivy like a cold wind, making her eyes sting. She wanted to ask, And me? but that question would have been as unwelcome as asking about the vanished New Year.

It seemed the rival was younger, perhaps a decade his junior, and, in Ivys mind, somehow betterlike a classic novel with a fresher cover. Ed bragged about it with a grin, as if stepping into a new chapter of his life. Ill have a son soon, he boasted, forgetting that Ivy and he already had two grown daughters. Finally, an heir!

He didnt grasp that there was little left to inherit; his wages were modest compared to Ivys, who earned more than enough to own both their flat in Hackney and a small house in Kent. He was merely a tenant on the lease, while the second flat was rented out to another.

Ivy, however, chose not to add a drop of poison to the pot of delicacies. She let herself drift in illusion, for she had other concerns: her perfect little world had crumbled in an instant.

We met at the office Christmas party! Ed announced brightly.

And why should I care? Ivy retorted, her tone sharp.

Why indeed? Ed blinked, as if the very act of love required constant narration. Its all lofty feelings for you, but for me its something else entirely.

A look of bewilderment crossed Eds face, and Ivy realized he was both oblivious and unrepentant, unaware of the torment his words inflicted. She wondered, perhaps for the first time, if she had overestimated his intellect.

Ed, now a man of misplaced confidence, slipped into a new, supposedly happy life, while Ivys world turned into a bizarre poem: she stood as still as the stones on Stonehenge, her tears frozen, her voice mute.

Ed walked away, and Ivy clutched the halffinished list, its purpose now meaningless. Theyd been married twentyeight years; the foundation seemed solidsteady job, grownup children, a comfortable home. Yet something was missing, and Ivy sensed that perhaps she had only imagined that security.

On autopilot, she crossed out Prosecco from the listthe drink Ed adoredthen collapsed onto the sofa, emptyheaded, consumed by void. Three hours slipped by like minutes. Was she sleeping? The room darkened, and the phone rang. It was Tamsin, her longtime friend.

Tell me, what should I bring for the New Year? Tamsin asked.

Eds gone! Ivy whispered.

Hes really gone? Tamsin repeated, surprised.

How could you not have known? Ivy asked, incredulous.

We all knew, Tamsin replied after a pause. Your husband was working with my brother, Darren, at the firm.

Did you know and stay quiet? Ivy shouted.

Yes! Tamsin snapped. Are we supposed to reconcile, and what am I supposed to do after that?

Silence fell, and Ivy felt herself disconnect.

In truth, Tamsin was rightcelebrating the New Year with friends now seemed pointless. Ivys plans fell apart; she was alone. She decided to spend the evening with her elderly mother, and on New Years Day she would visit her daughter, who was hosting the whole family.

There, she learned that Ed had gone to the younger womans house. Everyone seemed to knowtraitors, she thought. The humiliation deepened; she felt like a foolish, broken doll.

The mood sank lower than a river in winter. Ivy left the party early, trudging home on foot through a quiet, snowladen street. The city was still bright with festive lights, but the crowds had thinned. As she walked, a strange lightness settled over her.

Let them be happy, she told herself. I wont let this ruin me.

A year later, exactly twelve months after Eds departure, the tree was once again dressed in tinsel. Ivy was again penning a grocery list, planning to meet Tamsin for a New Years toast as they always did. She intended to introduce Tamsin to Vadim, a charming widower who had just proposed to her.

What else? the universe seemed to ask. Do you want to sit alone on a dusty sofa forever?

She was independent, witty, and selfsufficient. Vadim was handsome, freespirited, and freshly retired. Everything seemed possible.

A sudden knock shattered the quiet. At the door stood Ed, a battered backpack slung over his shoulder, a bundle cradled in his arms.

Goodness! Ivy thought. Did he actually bring a baby?

Out loud, Ed said, What if I wasnt home?

Id have opened the door with my key, she replied, dryly.

What if I changed the locks?

You wouldnt have? Youre still kind, arent you? he asked, hesitating. Will you let me in?

Ivy stepped aside; she wasnt going to shoo a child away. He slipped through the doorway, placed the sleeping infant on the bed.

How old is he? Ivy asked without feeling.

Five months, Ed answered calmly.

And wheres your lover? Have you asked the elm tree where she is? Ivy quipped, bewildered by the intrusion of another mans child into her sanctuary.

My love is with someone else now, Ed whispered.

Ah, the lofty romances, Ivy sighed. Why are you here then?

Dont undress him, Ed began, pulling at the babys tiny shirt.

You wont accept me? Ed asked, surprised by Ivys sudden coldness.

Exactly, Ivy muttered. You overestimated me, didnt you?

The child? Ivy scoffed. I wouldnt let you in, let alone a strangers child!

Ed, flustered, tried to retreat. I cant handle this alone! Sorry, Ivy, the devil led me astray!

She laughed, The devil leads you after a night of office drinks, thats all. If you plan this for months and hide a child, thats no devilits you.

Dont blame the unseen forces, Ivy said. Take your baby and leave. As Zola once said, give everyone enough, and youll run out of scraps.

What if I stay? Ed blurted.

Stay, and Ill go, Ivy replied, casual. We were supposed to celebrate with Tamsin anyway. Vadims already offered me a flat.

I wont be selling the house or splitting anything, she added. You have no right to this place.

Ed had never expected a courtroom; he simply needed a roof for himself and the child. His lover had vanished two days earlier, leaving a note: Dont look for me; youve become a nuisance.

He took a few days of leave, then the long holiday stretched on. It turned out not to be a holiday at all. Ivy, kind and compassionate, had always kept the home warm, which is why Ed had returned.

Make yourself comfortable, Ill be getting ready, Ivy said, as if nothing odd had occurred.

What are you doing? Ed asked, nervous.

Youre the one who left! Now dress, feed, change diapersdo what young fathers do! Ive forgotten everything! Ivy snapped, stepping out of the room.

She wasnt joking. If she wasnt, perhaps he should go back to his mothershe was seventyfive but spry enough to help. After that, a nanny could be found.

Ivy was in the bath when the front door slammed shut: Ed had left, leaving a crumpled tissue on the bed. Did he cry? she mused with a halfsmile. Better late than never.

She felt no pity, not even for the little baby. In Brazil they have pedras, in England they have babies. A year ago Ed didnt feel sorry for her either; hed simply stepped over everything and walked away, believing it was freedom.

What now? she thought, turning to the pantry. Shed promised to bake a lasagne for the New Years dinner. Vadim liked lasagne, disliked prosecco; Ed liked the opposite. Now her thoughts were only of Vadim.

The gift for him was already prepared: the reindeerpatterned sweater that Ed had missed last year, now in his size. Men loved reindeers, after all.

And so the dream drifted on, a surreal tapestry of broken vows, lingering scent of cologne, and the soft glow of Christmas lights flickering in a London flat that had seen too many departures.