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Even the Good Ones Get Left Behind

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A fine woman can be left behind too

In the looking glass, Alice saw herselfa lovely woman of thirty-five with sorrowful eyes. She simply could not fathom what men of today truly desired. It was such a pity that these things werent taught at university. Why had she bothered to earn a first-class degree?

From a young age, Alice had dreamed of a familya loving husband and children, three if the stars allowed. Her parents set the perfect examplean image of the ideal English household. Alice rushed to marry, as though happiness was something she might accidentally let slip past.

She met her husband, William, back at university. Handsome, athletic, and clever, he easily became the life and soul of every gathering and drew admiring glances wherever he went. Their paths crossed at a party, and an immediate spark connected them. William had travelled to Oxford from another town, while Alice still lived at home with her parents.

Six months on, William proposed. She eagerly accepted. The pair married after finishing their degrees. William seemed the perfect husbandattentive, considerate, and always ready with a joke. He secured a job as an engineer at a gas company, while Alice became a specialist at a local bank.

Half a year after their wedding, Alice discovered she was expecting. Williams reaction was far from delighted.

Alice, how on earth did this happen? I thought you had everything under control?

I honestly dont know, William she replied, startled by his tone. But does it matter? We were going to have a child anyway. Perhaps its simply meant to befate, you know.

Dont talk nonsense! Its not fate, its carelessness. Weve only just started our jobs. Nows the time to focus on our careers, not nappies and sleepless nights.

Alice barely managed to hold back her tears. His response caught her utterly unprepared.

Alice, my love, William said softly, putting an arm around her, perhaps, well, we could you know Theres really no need to rushtheres time

She stared at him, shocked.

Dont even think it! If youre not happy, I wont force your hand. The choice is yours.

Alice dashed out of the flat, wandering through the chilly Oxford streets, lost in thought, desperately trying to make sense of what had just happened. Her dream of a large, cheerful family seemed to shatter under her feet.

Days passed in icy silence between Alice and William. At last, William apologised, saying hed thought things through, and he really was glad to become a father. Joy soared through Alice. Eight months later, their son, Anthony, arrived.

Alice adored being a mother. She relished caring for her child, keeping the house in order, and cooking up delicious food for her husband. When Anthony turned three, she returned to work, enrolling Anthony in nursery.

Alice danced through the days, light as a feather, certain she was the happiest woman alive. Their many friends seemed to affirm this. The couple often hosted gatherings for university chums and their spouses. One evening, Alice overheard a conversation between William and his mates.

Will, you really landed on your feet with Alice! Shes gorgeous, clever, keeps a tidy house, and can cook a Sunday roast that puts the rest of us to shame.

Absolutely, added another friend. My wife only ever demands money and frays my nerves.

Well, Im no slouch myself, William replied cheerfully. Thats why Ive got such a brilliant wife.

The men roared with laughter. The wives, however, held another view entirely and were never shy about sharing their thoughts with Alice.

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The Carer for the Wife — What do you mean? — Lida thought she must have misheard. — Where am I supposed to go? Why? What for? — Oh, can we just skip the dramatics, please? — he grimaced. — What’s not clear here? There’s no one left for you to take care of. Where you go is none of my concern. — Ed, what’s wrong with you? Weren’t we planning to get married…? — That was your idea. I never said any such thing. At 32, Lida decided to turn her life around and leave her small hometown. What was left for her there? Endure her mother’s nagging? Her mother simply couldn’t stop scolding Lida about the divorce, constantly asking how she managed to “lose” her husband. Yet Vas’ka wasn’t worth a kind word—drunk and a womaniser! How did she end up marrying him all those eight years ago? Lida wasn’t at all upset about the divorce—in fact, she felt she could finally breathe again. But she argued constantly with her mum about it, and they also fought about money, which was always in short supply. So, she’d head off to the county town and land a great job there! Look at Svetka—her old school friend—she’d been married for five years to a widower. Who cares if he’s 16 years older and hardly a heartthrob, at least he has a flat and a decent income. And Lida reckoned she was just as good as Svetka! — Well, thank heavens! You’ve come to your senses! — Svetka encouraged her. — Pack your things, you can stay with us for a bit, and we’ll sort out the job situation. — Won’t your Vadim Petrovich mind? — Lida was unsure. — Don’t be silly! He does whatever I ask! Don’t worry, we’ll get by! Still, Lida didn’t want to stay long at her friend’s place. After just a couple of weeks and her first wages, she rented her own room. And just a couple of months later, she had a stroke of luck. — Why is a woman like you working in the market? — said one of her regulars, Edward Boris, with concern. Lida knew all her regulars by name by now. — It’s cold, it’s hard work—not ideal. — Gotta earn money somehow, — she shrugged, — unless you have another offer? Edward Boris wasn’t exactly a dreamboat in her eyes—twenty years older, a bit pudgy, starting to bald, and with a shrewd look in his eye. He was always particular about choosing his vegetables and paid to the penny. But he dressed well and drove a nice car—definitely not a down-and-out, not a drunk. He also had a wedding ring, so she never considered him as husband material. — You strike me as responsible, steady, and clean, — Edward Boris switched to a familiar tone, — have you ever cared for anyone who was ill? — I used to look after a neighbour, actually. She had a stroke, her children live far away, so they paid me to help. — That’s great! — he exclaimed, and then put on a somber face: — My wife, Tamara, has had a stroke too. The doctors say she has little chance of recovery. I’ve brought her home, but I haven’t got time to look after her. Will you help? I’ll pay you properly. Lida didn’t have to think long—much better to be in a warm flat changing bedpans than freezing on the market for ten hours a day serving picky customers! He even suggested she live there, so no more rent. — They’ve got three spare rooms! You could play football in there! — she delightedly told her friend. — No children either. Tamara’s mother was a real madam—even at 68, she acted half her age. She’d just remarried and was busy with her husband. No one else to care for the invalid. — Is she really that sick? — Oh yes, poor thing can’t move or speak. She won’t get better. — You almost sound happy about it, — Svetka eyed her. — Of course not, — Lida looked down, — but once Tamara’s gone, Edward Boris would be free… — Are you for real, Lida? Wishing someone dead for a flat?! — I’m not wishing anyone dead—I’m just not going to miss my chance! Easy for you to say, you’ve got it made! 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Not that it mattered now—they were almost like husband and wife! He gave her money for shopping, and she managed the budget, not realising it was tight. And his job paid well enough—but never mind, once they got married it would all become clear. With time, the spark between them dulled, and Edward lingered less at home, but Lida put it down to the strain of having a sick wife. She pitied him, even though he barely spent a minute a day checking on Tamara. Even so, Lida wept when Tamara finally passed away. She’d given a year and a half of her life to that woman—you can’t get that time back. She organised the funeral too—Edward was “too grief-stricken.” He gave her the bare minimum for expenses, but she did everything properly. No one could accuse her of a thing. Even the neighbours, gossiping about her and Edward—nothing escapes them!—nodded approvingly at the funeral. His mother-in-law too seemed satisfied. So Lida never expected what Edward said next. — You understand there’s no need for your services anymore, so I’m giving you a week to move out, — he said on the tenth day after the funeral. — What do you mean? — Lida’s voice faltered. — Where should I go? Why? — Please, do we have to have this scene? — he sighed. — There’s no one left for you to care for, and where you go is none of my business. — Ed, what’s wrong with you? We were supposed to get married… — That’s your fantasy. I never said anything of the sort. Next morning, after a sleepless night, Lida tried to talk again, but he just repeated the same words and urged her to move quickly. — My fiancée wants to renovate before the wedding, — was all he said. — Fiancée? Who’s that? — None of your business. — Oh, none of my business?! Well, I’ll move out, but you’ll pay me for my work first. You were meant to pay forty grand a month. I only got paid twice. So you owe me £8,000. — You can do the sums, can’t you! — he snorted. — Don’t get carried away… — And you owe for cleaning too! I won’t nit-pick, just pay me ten grand and we’ll call it even. — Or what? You’ll go to court? There’s no contract. — I’ll tell Tamila—remember, your mother-in-law owns this flat. Edward’s face changed, but he recovered quickly. — Who’d believe you? — he huffed. — You know what? I don’t want to see you. Get out now. — You’ve got three days, darling. No ten grand, and there’ll be a scandal, — Lida replied, heading for a cheap hostel. She’d managed to save some of the housekeeping money. On the fourth day, having had no answer, Lida went back to the flat. Tamila, the mother-in-law, was there. Lida could see from Edward’s face she’d never get paid. So she told Tamila everything. — She’s making it all up! 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