Don’t Dwell on the Past Taisha often finds herself reflecting on her life as she crosses the thresh…

Dont Dig Up the Past

Ive found myself reflecting on my life as I crossed the threshold of fifty. I cant say my family life has been a happy one, and most of that comes down to my wife, Catherine. Back when we were young, it seemed we married for loveboth head over heels. But the moment things shifted in her, I never noticed, and things slipped by without me realising.

We lived in a village in Devon, in the house belonging to my mother-in-law, Margaret. I always made an effort to keep the peace in our home and respected Margaret, who treated me with real kindness. Catherines mother lived in the neighbouring village with Catherines younger brother; she was sickly and often unwell.

Gossips in the village would catch Margaret at the post office or by the green, poking for details about how she got on with her son-in-law, me.

Margaret, how do you put up with John? theyd ask.

Margaret would always reply, Not a bad word about John. Hes respectful, knows his way round the house, keeps the garden tidy, and lends a hand wherever he can.

Ah, go on then; as if things are so peacefulwhen has a mother-in-law ever praised her son-in-law? Were not buying it! the women would say.

Margaret would just shake her head and carry on.

Catherine gave birth to our first daughter, Emily, and everyone was delighted.

John, Emilys got my nose, dont you think? Margaret would search for her own traits in the granddaughter. Catherine would simply laugh, not bothered who the child resembled.

When Emily turned three, Catherine had a son, Daniel. Another round of joyful fuss. I kept busy with work; Catherine managed at home with the kids, and Margaret was always ready to help. Our life was quiet and, I suppose, enviable in its own unremarkable way. I never went drinking like some of the blokes in the village, whose wives would drag them home from the pub, cursing and swearing all the way.

Catherine was pregnant with our third, when she discovered Id strayed. Nothing stays secret in a small English village, and soon everyone was whispering about me and that widow, Rachel. Our nosy neighbour, Linda, made sure Catherine found out.

Catherine, youre carrying Johns third, and hes out there fooling with other women, Linda blurted out, not mincing her words.

Oh, I dont believe it, my wife replied, shocked.

Why would you? With two kids at your feet, a third on the way, your mother-in-law to care for, and the house to run. Hes enjoying himself while youve got your hands full. Everyone knows about him and Rachel, and Rachel isnt even trying to hide it.

Catherine was upset; Margaret knew but kept quiet, not wanting her daughter to find out, too worried about her. Shed scold me, but Id always brush it off

Mum, dont believe idle chatter. You know how women talk; doesnt mean any of its true.

One day Linda rushed in, breathless.

Catherine, I just saw John slip into Rachels yardright as I was heading home from the grocers. Youre about to be alone with three children! Go to Rachels and give her what-for! Youre pregnant, he wont dare lay a finger on you, she chattered on.

Catherine didnt have the nerve for a row; she knew Rachel wellfeisty, argumentative, her husband drowned years back after a drunken binge. A hard life tempered her. Still, Catherine thought it over and went.

Ill go. Look him in the eye and see if hell come clean. He always denies everything, says its all silly gossip, she said to Margaret, who tried to stop her.

Catherine, dont gothink of yourself!

It was late autumn, properly dark. She knocked on Rachels window, hoping shed come out. Rachel shouted through the closed door

What dyou want, banging at my windows?

Open up, let me in. I know Johns with you, the neighbours have told me, Catherine called through the door.

Ha! Fat chance. Go homedont make yourself a laughing stock, Rachel cackled.

After standing around a little while, Catherine went home, realising Rachel wouldnt let her in. I came in after midnight, drunk. It was rare, but sometimes it happened. Catherine was waiting up.

Where were you? I know youre at Rachels. You two are drinking together. I went round there, she wouldnt answer and you know it.

What are you on about? I complained, Wasnt there at all. I was having a pint with Grahamhes got a limp. We lost track of time, thats all.

Catherine didnt believe me, but she kept quietno appetite for rows, and too late at night for drama anyway. Besides, if you dont catch someone out, you cant accuse them, so she lay awake, thinking:

Where would I go with two children and a third on the way? Mums ill, and my brother and his brood are there too; too crowded as it is. How would we squeeze in?

Her mother always told her, whenever Catherine complained about my wandering eye

Put up with it, darling. You married and had children, best to bear it. Do you think it was easy for me with your father? He drank and chased us out of the house; we hid with neighbours, you remember? God took him eventually, but I endured. John doesnt drink often and never hits you. Women have always had to endure.

Catherine didnt agree with all her mums advice, but knew deep down she couldnt leave me. Margaret tried to soothe and persuade her too:

Love, dont go; soon the third will come. Well cope together.

Our third was a daughter, Grace, frail and sickly at birthCatherines stress must have taken its toll during the pregnancy. Over time Grace settled, especially with Margaret lavishing attention on her.

One day Linda burst in, a regular magpie for village news.

Rachels taken that Mike in, after his wife kicked him out.

Well, good luck to her, Catherine shrugged, relieved Id stop visiting Rachel.

But only a month later, Linda was back.

Mikes gone back to his wife. Rachels on the lookout again. Youd best keep John close, he might fancy her again, she advised.

Things calmed once more with Catherine, and Margaret was relieved too. But some men have a wayward spirit that never quite settles.

On her way home from the shop, Margaret bumped into her old friend, Joan.

Margaret, whats wrong with your John? Catherine is a fine wife, pretty and lovingyou yourself praise her. What more does he want?

Joan, is John wandering again?

He is, and theres morethey say hes seeing Vera, the one at the canteen

Margaret kept quiet with Catherine but scolded me in private. But you cant hide these things forever; once again Linda brought Catherine the news. Tearful pleas and Catherines sorrow did nothing to deter me. I kept straying, never serious enough to leave my family; I knew Id never walk away from my kids and wife. But I was never truly loyal either. I had everything at homewife, children, mother, a settled lifeand fun with someone else on the side.

Margaret would openly argue now, desperate to make me see sense, but an adult son rarely listens to an ageing mother. Id snap back.

Im working for the family, bringing home the bacon, and you and Catherine keep blaming me. You believe any old village gossip, I argued.

Over time, I stopped drinking altogether. Years passedthe children grew up. Emily married down in Cornwall where shed gone to college; Daniel finished university in London and wed a local girl there.

Youngest, Grace, finished school, ready for college in the county town. These days, Ive settled, no more gallivanting. Work and home, mostly lying on the sofamy health isnt what it was. I dont drink at all now, not that I was ever much for it.

Catherine, my hearts playing up, aches in my back, I grumble, and my kneesmust be arthritis. Should I see a doctor?

Catherine barely pities me. Her hearts hardened after all the tears and disappointments she endured before I finally calmed down.

Poor health keeps him indoors where he complains, I overhear her thinking. Let his old flames look after himlet them show their care now.

Margaret passed away, buried near her late husband. Now our home is quiet. Occasionally, the children visit with grandchildren, and both Catherine and I look forward to those days. Ill complain to the children about my ailments, even lay the blame at Catherines door for not looking after me. Emily brings medicine, fussing over me and scolding her mother.

Dont be hard on Dad, Mumhes not well, she says, which stings Catherine, whose daughter always seems to side with me.

He made his own bed with all those wild years, now he wants sympathy. Im not made of steel, and my health suffered tooworrying about him all that time, Catherine protests.

Daniel, too, tries to cheer me up when he visits, though he talks more with memen and their fathers, I suppose.

Our children seem not to understand Catherine, even when she explained how Id been unfaithful, and she stuck it out for their sake. How hard it was for her, how much it hurt. But all she heard back was

Mum, let the past stay buried; dont wear Dad down, Emily claims, and her brother agrees.

Whats done is done, Daniel soothes, patting her shoulder.

Catherine feels a twinge, seeing the children stand by me, but she understands, and doesnt keep a grudge. Life is what it is.

Ive learned that you cant erase the past, but you can choose to make peace with it. If anyone asks, Id say: bear no grudges, and dont dig up whats better left buried.