“You’ll Never Cope Without Me! You Can’t Do Anything! – My Husband Yelled While Packing His Shirts Into a Big Suitcase”

Youll never manage without me! Youre helpless! my husband shouted, throwing his shirts into a large suitcase.

But she proved him wrong. She managed. Perhaps if shed allowed herself time to dwell on how she was supposed to cope alone with two children, she might have conjured up all sorts of horrors and even forgiven his affair. But there was no time for that. She had to get the girls to nursery and rush off to work. Her husband had sauntered in just half an hour earlier, grinning smugly, full of himself and his new flame.

Pulling on her coat, Tanya kept it brief and to the point as she gave orders:

Olivia, help Annie zip her coat and make sure she eats her lunch at nursery today. The teacher said shes refusing her porridge again. Steve, don’t forget to collect all your precious hard-earned belongings. Dont dawdle. And leave the key in the letterbox when you go. Goodbye.

Olivia was born exactly thirty minutes before Annie and was considered the elder. Both were now four. Independent kids, each with their own quirks. If Olivia ate the porridge she disliked because she was told to, Annie would stubbornly protest, There are lumps in it. Im not eating that.

Luckily, the nursery was only a ten-minute walk from home. The girls chatter distracted Tanya from worries about the hard road ahead. At work, she had no time to dwell on her personal lifepatients booked in back-to-back at her GP surgery, and then home visits to squeeze in. Only at night, when she noticed the empty hangers in the hallway where her husbands coats once hung, did it hit her: she was on her own. But she was not one to wallow or complainthings had to be kept normal, or even better. In any situation, you can throw your hands up and mope or you can take a breath, think things through, find solutions, and look for slivers of hope. Right now, for instance, supper needed making.

So, what has changed for us girls? Tanya mused as she chopped vegetables for a salad. Hes left. What did he really do anyway? What extra will fall on me? Nothing I cant handle. I just need to tweak our routine a bit. Ill cope. Everythings fine. In fact, itll get better. I dont want to live constantly wondering where he isoff with his mistress again? Id rather be aloneits harder, but so much more peaceful.

After reading another chapter from The Adventures of Pinocchio and tucking the girls in with goodnight kisses, Tanya hurried to the bathroomthe washing machine had finished and the laundry needed hanging up.

Before bed, she made herself a cup of tea to straighten out her thoughts and map tomorrow in her mind. Her girls were like two peas in a pod. Twins are perhaps harder work, but Tanya never thought of it that way, and shed always been surprised when people expressed sympathy.

Were absolutely fine, shed reply. Were not hanging on by a thread. Im managing.

The kettle boiled. Tanya brewed tea with her favourite lemon balm, flicked on the cosy lamp. It was miserable outsidesleet tapping at the windowsbut inside it was warm and quiet, punctuated only by the ticking of the clock on the wall.

The doorbell rang. Tanya was surprised to see her neighbour on the doorstepa woman shed never felt fond of. Mrs. Jenkins, a lonely pensioner, always walked her scruffy mongrel in the mornings, greeting Tanya with a brusque nod and pursed lips. Tanya had often spotted the dog out by the binsskinny, forlorn, silently watching the rubbish thrown away. The old lady must have taken pity and taken her in. Nobody ever seemed to visit Mrs. Jenkins; she only went out for groceries and to walk the dog.

Forgive me for disturbing you, Mrs. Jenkins said, wrapped in her woollen shawl, but I saw your husband packing things into his car this morning. Has he left you?

Thats none of your concern, Tanya shot back.

Your husband certainly isnt, Mrs. Jenkins replied, I just wanted to sayif you ever need a hand, Im always here. Happy to sit with the girls, or anything else really.

Come in, Tanya offered. Whats your name? she asked as she poured two cups of tea and set out a plate of biscuits. Please, help yourself.

Im Jean Jenkins. I know youre Tanya. Mrs. Jenkins broke off a bit of her biscuit and continued, Im not trying to intrude, love. Just knowwith anything at all, Id be glad to help. Not for money, goodness no. Just for companyId rather like it, really. She took a dainty sip and nodded, Lovely tea. Is that lemon balm? I grow all sorts on my allotment. Do visit in summer if you fancy a breakplenty of room, and Ive a wonderful old apple tree out back, delicious fruit…

Tanya found herself watching Jean Jenkins, wondering why shed thought the woman so disagreeable. Was it because she never fawned or pried with silly questions about the twins, or poked into Tanyas personal life like so many others? She simply passed by, silent and respectful. Tanya had thought her proud and stand-offishbut Jean didnt ask about her husband or poke at old wounds, she simply offered a helping hand.

Tanya suddenly saw her neighbour differently: neat, her slippers new and tidy, hair in a bun, a dress with a lace collar. And she smelled softly nicelike gentle perfume.

Tanya listened to Jeans stories of her allotment, her apple tree, the tiny but toasty shed she turned into a summerhouse, the ducks by the lake, and all her worries seemed to drift away. That night, Tanyas heart warmed.

Tanya remembers those days well, even five years on. Remembers how her husband had yelled: Youll never manage! Useless!

But all thats far behind her now.

Jean Jenkins deftly sliced apples, laid them prettily on the pastry, and slid the tray into the hot oven. Salads were done, a stew was simmering away. Today was her beloved neighbours birthday. Outside, it was late August. The doors and windows of the cosy country cottage were flung open. The kitchen filled with the scent of apple pie.

How many times shes helped me… Tanya thought, eyeing the rosy-cheeked old lady by the oven. Where would I be without her? The girls absolutely adored their Granny Jean. And Jean could’ve shut the door on her, but she hadnt. Now her daughters were nine, schoolgirls who spent every summer at Jeans welcoming cottageswimming in the lake, making friends, cherishing their much-loved grandma. Family in every way but blood.

Im off to pick some more appleslets make a compote, Tanya said, grabbing a basket and heading outside.

Beneath the apple tree, in a shady patch, lay Albie the dog. Who would have thought that scraggly mutt from the bins would turn into this beautiful Labrador?

Its all love. Only love can save us, Tanya thought, offering Albie a biscuit from her hand.