Lina Was a Bad Woman. Truly Awful—You Could Almost Pity Her. Everyone Tried to Make Her See Just How…

Lydia was considered troublesome. Awfully troublesomeso much so, it was a bit tragic how troublesome she was, poor thing. People made sure to remind her, again and again, that she was difficult, problematic, and without direction. Not only troublesome, but unhappy as well. Of courseno husband, her only son grown and living his own life, Lydia drifted through her days, apparently wanted by no one.

Shed turn up at work on Mondays, when the other women boasted of how their weekends had vanished into choreswashing, vacuuming, scrubbing, gardening, jam-making at their allotments. Lydia, though, said very little. What did she have to contribute? No partner to fuss over, and her son no longer needing her, so she kept quiet.

She would sometimes leave work a tad early, and everyone knew whyor thought they did. She slipped away twice a month, like clockwork, and her colleagues would exchange knowing glances, shaking their heads. It was obvious, they thoughtLydia had scores of lovers. Trouble follows the troublesome, after all.

While they all, the respectable married ladies, were busy and noble, Lydia was, by comparison, dreadful.

Lydia, her mother lamented, why cant you get your life in order?

In what way, Mum? Lydia replied, half-smiling.

Well, why havent you found yourself a nice man, for heavens sake? You could still have another child. Plenty of women have babies after forty now.

But Mum, why would I want to find some man? Why should I have another child just for the sake of it? I have Jackhes enough for me. Lydia genuinely wondered, Whats a man really for? What would I do with one? Besides, I have Oliver.

Lydia! her mum exclaimed, flustered. Oliver isnt your man!

Of course he is, Lydia chuckled. He takes me out once a week, brings presents, helps pay for holidays, never nags or dumps chores on me. Doesnt expect dinner on the table, doesnt whinge about the laundry, doesnt sprawl on the sofa all afternoon

Oh, easy for you, all that headache falls to his poor wife, her mother retorted.

And youd rather it fell to me? No, thank you! Im forty-something, Mum. Dont forget, Ive been married twice. Ran for the hills both times when happiness started to feel more like a life sentence.

My first husband, Jacks father, welldont you remember? You were the one telling me at eighteen to marry him, since he was older and supposedly wiser, wealthy, respectable, loved and cherished me. The works.

So I spent five years suffocatedwasnt allowed to study, to see my friends, even to raise Jack on my own. All I was good for was tending to him and his precious mum. In return? Yes, I was draped in gold and made to parade out once a month like some rare beast to the local clubWhat a proper young wife! Not like those tarts you see about. Hypocritical, really, as he had quite a taste for those very tarts.

And when I finally managed to file for divorcethanks to Nan for supporting me!he demanded everything back. Even my underwear, would you believe.

The second time, it was supposed to be love. I was working and studying, remember that, Mum? All day at college, all evening at some jobdidnt want to be a burden on you and Dad, not after everything.

Lydia! How could you say that? Have I ever refused you bread or soup for you or Jack? her mum cried, wounded.

Not you, Mum, Lydia replied, but others implied. There were thoselike Dadwho worried Id never get off his coattails. And our beloved Nik, my brother, didnt lift a finger, but why would he need to? You did it all.

So I rushed into love the second timeeven though Id already done the unloved, locked-in route. Did my life get better? Of course not. Just made it even more complicated. The man lounged on the sofa, I worked, managed Jack, did the shopping (no car, naturallywhy would I need one? The Husband comes first, doesnt he?), sorted out the household and was still expected to keep everyone happy, in every way.

If money was tight, that was my problemJacks problem. If it was his own child, things might be different, he said. Wouldnt lift a finger otherwise.

Even dared to compare our salariessaying I had it easy. When I said Id had enough? Well, he told me to take a hike: Whod want you, with a kid in tow? Nice.

So you see, Mum, Ive tried it all. Married for money, married for loveno real difference. Everyones happyexcept me.

Lydia, everyone lives like that, love. Thats life.

Well, let them, Lydia said, But I wont. I dont want that.

And how did you spend your Saturday, anyway? her mum asked, swapping tales of weekend toil with a heavy sigh.

Oh, the usual. Nik and his wife dropped off their two, Ozzie and Beth, for me and Dad to watch. I made pancakes, dusted, hovered, mopped, did laundry, put the kids to bed, fed Dad, ironedcollapsed into bed well past midnight.

And Sunday?

Kids woke up early, more pancakes. Nik and wife back for lunch, so I roasted a chicken, made salads, pizza. Cleaned up, then fell asleep on the sofa. Dad woke me later to move to bed.

Mum, did you ever watch Jack for a whole weekend for me? Did I ever just dump him on you and run off to relax?

You were always terribly independent, Lydia. These days, I just

And do you know how I spent my last weekend, Mum? Jack rang Friday night; asked if Id watch Tim, Marinas cat, as they were off to the Lake District. Of course I said yes.

They dropped off the cat, brought a pizza, and left. That night, I ate pizza and binge-watched a series. No reason to jump out of bed Saturday morningI could take my time.

Fed the cat, brewed coffee, wiped up, did a bit of laundry. Called youwas hoping for a trip to the museum, just a chat, but Dad picked up. He called me idle, said you were slaving over the kids and I was waltzing off to galleries.

I almost took offence, but whats the point? Hes always right, our Dad.

The museum had an exhibit of your favourite artistI remembered how you used to love his work. Sat in a café, did a spot of shopping, came home. The cat was fast asleep. Spent Saturday just how I wanted.

Sunday, had a lie-in with the cat, tried calling you to propose a boat trip up the Thames. Masha answered, mouth full, said you were busyprobably washing up.

That evening, Oliver called, inviting me out to dinner. I acceptedwhy wouldnt I? I dont ask him about his marriage, dont get involved in his troubles, he leaves mine alone. A calm, pleasant eveningthen off to bed and ready for Monday, fresh as a daisy.

Ive tried dating single men, Mum. But honestly? Hopeless. They want a mother-figure, or theyre bitter after failed marriages, moaning about their ex-wives, intent on using their spare cash for hobbies, not a family. One bloke even told me I must accept his children as my own because women are naturally maternal. He could provide fishhe loved to fishbut his money went to his hobbies and his ex. When I suggested he might help support my Jack, he was scandalised.

So of course Im painted as cold, calculating, grasping. Apparently, I wanted to trap a poor chap, live off him, get him to raise my child. Rubbish.

So, yes Mum, I have Oliver. I know you think Im terrible, but honestly, I feel no shameand plenty of relief. What pains me, though, is how you wear yourself thin. Thats why I sometimes invent a little crisis to get you out with me, even if I have to be crafty about it.

Mum, Im doing finebut right now, lets step out, just us. Lets do something for ourselves together, just this once. Please, Mum. You spend all your time for othersspend a little for you, with me.

Are you mad, Lydia? And what about your father?

Mumis Dad ill?

Well, no, but lunch

I dont believe you havent already left something he can warm up. And Nik?

Mum, I might get upset. I know Im awful, but let me try being good for once. Come onlets go and live, just for us.

Back at work on Monday, the women swapped battle stories of their exhausting weekends; Lydia just smiled to herself. The others all knew Lydia was bada troublemaker, no doubt off having a wicked time. She walked through the office with a spring in her step, a secret smile, the sort that only comes from living your own truth.

And thats what mattered: Life may judge, but theres peace in living honestlyand not being afraid to carve out happiness in your own way.