Ungrateful Tommy

THE UNGRATEFUL GREGORY

That morning, Greg called Alice straight to her office and let her know he was heading to the Taylors after work to celebrate his work anniversary.

If you fancy, come along, he added indifferently, already sure she wouldnt turn up and would spend the whole evening reading or glued to the computer.

Alright, she replied just as flatly, but on her lunch break she slipped out to Marks & Spencer to pick out a gift for him. The perfume section brimmed with women searching for that perfect aftershave.

Alices eyes landed on a bottle of expensive cologneon the glossy black box, a dapper man with a carelessly slung jacket, cheeky squint, and a half-smirk. The spitting image of her Gregory.

The shop assistant wrapped gifts in shiny foil, fixing bows with nimble fingers. An elderly lady shuffled over, shaking her head.

Oh girls, you spoil your men with colognes, but itll be someone else enjoying the scent and admiring their ties too.

The women around her burst out laughing, but Alices thoughts grew sombre. Shed always lived like thateverything for Gregory, while he only lived for the attention of others. In their youth, she adored him blindly, and he allowed it condescendingly. When he enrolled in night classes, she wrote his essays into the early hours. After the children arrived, she took on all the responsibilities herself.

Of course, at first, he was grateful. But over the years, he grew used to her care, coming to see it as something he was simply owed. To outsiders, they must have looked like the perfect family: comfortable, peaceful, with well-behaved, clever kids. But then the children grew up and left home. That left Alice and her husband alone. And only then did she realise something was missing from her life.

Her mother had objected to their marriage twenty years ago. Look at him, Im telling you. He knows full well how handsome he is, and he never tires of admiring himself, her mother warned her love-struck daughter. A handsome man is a man shared by all. Every woman will be eyeing him up, and you, my dear, will get the least of him, even if youve all the supposed rights. So here we are: an unloved wife, aged forty-three, andlets face itnot needed by anyone…

Alice stood by the window. The sun was shining with early spring warmth. Soon itll be Mothering Sunday, she mused dully. And then what? Another holiday on my own… Most of my life behind me, and what lies ahead?

From the street came the cheerful chirping of sparrows, followed by a determined tapping at the pane. Alice looked downa scruffy little sparrow strutted across the ledge, fixing her with a round, bright eye.

Now, thats a sign, Alice decided. The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed, as if in agreement.

So, theres still time. Rule number one: if no one else loves you, start by loving yourself. Slamming the door, Alice raced down the stepsto the hairdressers first, then the shops

By half-six, her reflection marvelled back at her: she was perched slightly tipsy in her office chair, looking every bit the enigmatic stranger. A little black dress, a chic short haircuta deliberately tousled tri-coloured fringe. Her eyes were deep and mysterious (artful liner, shaded to perfection), and her lips: a sweep of pencil, a touch of gloss, and suddenly they were plump, and pouting with attitude.

So, rule number two: life begins at forty.

She strolled to the kitchen, returned with a glass of wine, and raised it to the mirror. Rule number threedo we really need a husband who cant appreciate a woman like this?

No surprise, then, that she swept into the Taylors home with the faintest of sways atop her slim heels. Eyebrows shot up, and suddenly men were vying to take her coat, offer a chair, fetch her an apple. Oh, is that right? You dont say! My husband is here too? I hadnt even noticed…

The opposition was stunned by her sudden entrance, thrown off by her new tactics, and deflated by everyones admiration.

The next morning, perhaps keen to restore his pride, Greg attempted his usual swagger: Are we having breakfast or what? But this time hed miscalculated, or perhaps he simply wasnt fully awake yet, for the woman next to him was not the one hed grown used toshe was no ones servant anymore.

Beside him, a carefree, self-assured woman was gently breathing. Without turning her tousled tri-coloured hair, she responded with playful indifference:

Have you made breakfast yet, darling?

She stretched, drifted off, thinking before she fell asleep again, Thats right, sweetheart. Otherwise, well have to revisit rule number three.Greg lay beside her, startled by the unfamiliar ease in her voicea melodic note he hadnt heard since their earliest days. The sun slipped across the curtains and landed in patterns on her bare shoulder; the years, the routines, the old grievances seemed to shrink in the fragile hush. He opened his mouth, half-expecting a retort, but faltered as he watched her smiling at the ceiling, quietly confident, already miles away from the life hed always taken for granted.

He slipped out of bed, shuffled to the kitchen, clattering cupboards and silverware. Alice, toes curling into the cotton sheets, listened to the gentle domestic chaosa curious symphony of possibility. How sweet it sounded, like the long-distant music of youth rediscovered.

When Greg shuffled back in, awkward with a tray of toast and marmalade, her laughterlight, freefinally burst into the room, chasing out the old disappointments. She patted the empty side of the bed. Thank you, Gregory.

He blinked. No bitterness, no weary sigh. Genuine gratitude, as if every small goodness still mattered in this strange new world between them. Perhaps, he thought, it wasnt too late; perhaps, in rediscovering herself, Alice had shown them both how to begin again.

Outside, sparrows chattered on the sill, defiant, jubilant. Alice caught Gregs eye, raised her glass from the nightstanda silent toast to the dawn.

And for the first time in years, breakfast was a celebration of what could be, not of what was owed.