I Never Loved My Husband

I never really loved my husband.
How long were you together?
We got married in 71 do the sums.
Hows that then? All those years, and you never loved him?

Two women sat on a wooden bench beside a grave in a small English cemetery. Theyd both been tidying their relatives plots, but now, by chance, had struck up a conversation.

That your late husband? asked the woman in a grey beret, nodding at the photo on the gravestone.

My Bob, yes. Gone a year now Still doesnt feel real. I miss him every day. Loved him to bits, the woman replied, tugging at the corners of her black scarf.

They sat quietly for a while before the woman in the beret sighed and said, I didnt love my Tim, you know.

The grieving widow looked up, intrigued. How long were you together then?

Well, as I said, married in 71 nearly fifty years if you can believe it.

But how could you stay with someone you didnt love, all that time?

I married him out of spite, really. Fell for a lad who ran off with my friend. So I thought, fine, Ill beat them to itmarry first. Tim was always hanging about, smitten. So I said yes.

And?

Oh, I nearly legged it from my own wedding. The whole village was at the do while I was sobbing in the toilets, thinkingthere goes my youth. Looked at Tim, wanted to howl. Skinnier than most, short, bit of a receding hairline even then, ears sticking out, and that suit never fit rightlike putting a saddle on a sheep. Smiling away at me like hed won the lottery. Well, cant blame anyone else, can I?

And then?

Went to live with his parents. They treated me like I was royalty. I was a big girl thenfull cheeks, a thick plait, dresses straining at the seams. Everyone saw he wasnt a match for me. His mother made sure I was looked after, even scrubbed my shoes of a morning. I bossed them all about, if Im honest, took it out on them because I was miserable. Not much fun for anyone.

So, Tim says, lets get away from here, head up north and get on the railwaysmake our own way. I was gladany excuse to get out, really. The government wanted young people to help build out there. Tim sorted everything, and off we went: stopped in Birmingham, then up to the Midlands.

They put us in separate carriages: women in one, men in the other. Tim had nothing to eatmy bag was with me, but there was no way to see him.

I didnt even caregot on grand with the other girls, shared out everything I had. Even dished out all the pasties his mum had baked for the trip. When we reunited at a stop, he came asking for food, and I was properly embarrassed. Told him there was nothing left. He just smiled and said, No worries, Im stuffed anyway, everyones sharing with me. But I knew he was fibbinghe wasnt the social sort at all. Just didnt want me to feel guilty.

When we arrived, they split us up againpiled thirty-odd women in one dorm, blokes in another, promised wed get family rooms soon. Didnt much care. I just avoided Timalways had an excuse, turned my nose up at him. The other women scolded me: Hes your husband, you know

He used to stand outside the window just waiting for a sign. But I never gave him one. The moors up there were always damp, but I didnt bat an eyelid.

Decided Id get a divorce. Wed been married two years, no childrenno love either. I did stay with him a few times in the blokes block, but it was only out of pity.

Then Grayson showed uptall, jet-black hair, proper looker. We were always working ourselves to the bone but having a laugh anyway. They had proper supplies up there: Czech lager, oranges, all sorts youd never see at home. Concerts, dancesit was good fun.

Grayson, he only had eyes for meeven though all my pals fancied him too. I fell hard. Tim tried to talk me round, but there was no chance.

Told him I wanted a divorce, even though wed just been offered a separate room. Didnt even move in.

But Tim was always close by. Even when I was with Grayson, I could feel him near. Not that I caredwhen you’re in love

The widow watched, spellbound.

How did he put up with it?

He did, because he loved me. Later, Grayson carried on with some tart from accounts. When I told him I was pregnant, he kicked up a fusssaid Id thrown myself at him, blamed me for everything. He told the whole site, said Tim was weak and thats why Id chased Grayson.

People told Tim, of course. By then, loving me must have done his head in. He even went after Graysontried to fight him, would you believe? Out behind the station. Didnt even know till I had a call saying Tim was in hospital. I turned up and he lay there, face bruised and swollen with weights on his leg.

Why? I asked him.

Because of you he said.

I just felt sorry for myself. Pregnant women were sent homeno place for kids up there. Meant Id have to go back to the villageand explain the child wasnt Tims. Everyone would talk. Truth be told, I didnt even know whose baby it wascouldve been Tims.

Visited Tim in hospital, took him parcelsnot out of love, just duty.

When he was back on his feet, leaning on crutches, we were standing by the window, he in his stripy hospital pyjamas, looking a hundred. He said, Dont leave me. Lets move awaylet me be the father. Itll be my child, no one elses.

I didnt even thank him. Just said, Why would you want that? And he said, Because I love you.

Suit yourself then, I told him, and walked away. I could feel his eyes burning into my back, waiting for me to turnnever did. But inside, I was jumping for joy, knowing I wouldnt have to go back to the village. At least itd be easier with him and the baby.

We moved to Yorkshire after that. Tim was quiet, but they noticed him at work. Hed trained at the technical collegebecame a foreman, always travelling for jobs. Every time he came home, hed bring treatsalways saving the best for me.

My wifes expecting now, hed say, bragging to his mates while I just stared at the floor. We were given a room, and I worked as a clerk.

Soon as the baby was borndark-hairedknew straight away he was Graysons. Tim just smiled and nearly teared up when he picked us up from the hospital.

My son Alex was a hard babyalways ill, always fussingnot surprising, the way he was conceived. Tim was worn out, never slept, but he never grumbled.

A year later, had a daughter by Timcalled her Mary, after his mum. By then, I finally realised how much Id hurt his family. His dad had passed, at least I could do something nice for his mother.

By then my feelings for Tim were just nothing. Not love, not hate. Just surviving really, hoping hed help out. He did everythingwashed, cooked, minded the kids, even let me sleep in. Once he tried to do the laundryI snatched the basin off him. What would the lads at work say? The boss washing knickers! He just said, So what? Better than you getting sick. Hard not to be annoyed by all his fussing, to be honest.

His love for me just used to gratetoo much, really. Didnt help that Alex started acting up at thirteen, getting in trouble with the police. Thats how I met Stevethe youth officer. Top bloke, good with Alex, not married. Alex never listened to Timjust ignored him, called him soft. I tried telling him off, even got the belt sometimes, but Tim always stopped me.

Then Tim got sent to London for training. By then, wed moved to Manchester and got a proper flat. Tim looked miserable about it all. Asked if I wanted him to stay. I told him, You should go.

Steve wasted no time, said I should leave Tim, didnt love him anyway. I wasnt sure myself

The narrator fell silent, brushing dead leaves from the bench.

And did you? asked her companion, now on first-name terms.

She frowned, her brow creased with old pain. I thought about it a lot. Tim wrote me a letter, still have it to this day. Never showed it to anyone. Said he knew hed made me unhappy, that Id never loved him. He said if I wrote back and said I didnt need him, hed never come home. Promised to send me half his salary, look after the kids regardless, wished me well. There was no blame in it, just pain, all for himself. Told me to get on with my life and be happy.

I cried over that letter for nights. Then a friend at workour shift manager, an older womantold me, Linda, youre a fool. Men like that are rare as gold dust.

One morning, I woke up and thoughtwhat am I doing? This fellas spent his life for me, and I?

I remembered so much. How hed always be there for me, helped me after I had an operationwasnt sure Id make it then. Tim just stayed with me, sat by my bed, hired a nurse, got the tablets I neededdid everything.

Another time, we accidentally picked up the wrong parcel after a snowstorma helicopter had dropped off supplies for the village, got the packages mixed up. Tim carried the right one to the next town in a blizzard. Came back with frozen cheeks, caught pneumonia, but wouldnt hear of not doing the right thing.

It finally clickedI didnt need anyone but him.

But how do you write that in a letter, after all those years of telling him he didnt matter? How do you say you were wrong?

I knew hed probably made up his mind to leave by thenthought I was in love with someone else.

It was autumn, I remember. Got the children sorted, everything lined up, and I went to Kings Cross to catch a train to London to find him.

The train crawled along, couldve run there faster, for how desperate I was to see him. All the way I pictured his faceso familiar, so dear. Loved every bit of him by thenhis bald patch, sticky-out ears, rounded belly, the lot.

Found out where he was, but they wouldnt let me in. Waited outside the college, looking out for him. Didnt recognise him at firsthe looked so smart, cap and trench coat and all, folder under his arm. I froze in place from nerves and love.

He walked right past me with his class, didnt even spot me. I finally called out. He stopped, stared like he was seeing a ghost. His classmates all gawped as we just stood there, staring at one another, with the leaveslike nowdrifting down.

We ran to each other, his folder and notes flying everywhere, and just held on, lost for words.

His mates laughed: Now thats proper lovebeen married forever, and look at them!

The other womans handkerchief was soaked with tears as she dabbed at her face. So you loved him in the end?

To the very last, I said.

But she gestured at the grave, Isnt that your husband there?

Oh no, love. Thats our Alex, our boy. Died too young, before he was forty. Got himself in trouble, even went to prison. Tim and I suffered plenty over that. Alex drank himself into the grave.

So, your husbandis he?

Still with us, thank God. I crossed myself. He dropped me here to tidy the grave and went off to run errands. We help our daughter a lot now, I added, glancing up. Oh, there he is. I smiled as I saw him coming. We’ve been talking for agesdo you need a lift home?

No, no, said the other woman. Ill just spend a little more time here.

Tim wandered over, a solid man with a round, kindly face in a black jacket and leather cap. He greeted us cheerfully, collecting up the tools. I tried to take the rubbish bag off himworried for his aching backbut he insisted.

Together, we strolled arm in arm down the golden avenue among the graves. When we reached the bend, I turned and waved to the woman in the beret, and Tim did the same.

She stayed a moment, gazing at the photo on her husbands stone, thinking to herself that real happiness doesnt just exist; its only there when you let it into your heart. And true happiness, in the end, is just to love and be loved.