Im writing this late at night, the house quiet after a long, sleepless day, and the thoughts keep circling back to the moment when everything seemed to be finally falling into place.
Yesterday evening I was scrolling through the property listings and found a threebedroom terraced house in the suburb of Harrogate that matches exactly what James and I have been dreaming of. Its in the right postcode, close enough to the town centre, and the price is within the savings weve managed to pull together. If we sell our current cottage, we could help Lucy pay off the mortgage on her new flat. I looked at James with eyes full of hope, but he waved his hand off, exhausted. Not today, he said. I was up until midnight finishing a report, and Ill be late again tonight. He grabbed his car keys and the folder of papers from the kitchen counter and left without another word.
I sighed, not daring to argue. Lately James has hardly been home. He comes back late, works weekends, but his salary is good and Ive been desperate to move closer to Lucy, who now lives in Leeds. Weve been scrimping for years, putting every extra pound into a joint savings account, while living on my motherinlaws state pension and my modest wage as the manager of the community centre in our village. I run the centres dance group for the local kids. Its not easy, but the thought of living in a town near my daughter and working in a larger cultural venue has always kept me going.
James and I met in the county town when I was training at the local dance college and he was finishing his final year at the polytechnic. We fell in love so quickly that as soon as he got his degree we married and moved to his familys farm. I left my studies after the first year; I dont regret it, because my husband was now legally mine, and I believed we would share a long, happy life together.
But the first months were anything but easy. Right after we moved into Jamess parents house, he was called up for a year of National Service in the Army. I was already dreading the separation, and then his mother, Margaret, made it clear from the moment she saw me that she despised her new daughterinlaw. She barely spoke to James, and the only thing she ever said to me was, You promised! I tried to be helpful, taking on any chores, but nothing seemed to soften her heart.
When I pressed James about why he never called his mother before moving in, he finally opened up. Two years earlier his sister, Sarah, had died in a tragic motorcycle accident after getting involved with a man fresh out of prison. The grief that followed made his mother vow that James would never marry without her blessing. He broke that promise, and Margaret felt betrayed.
I was determined not to leave, promising Margaret I would win her over. Surprisingly, within a few weeks her icy demeanor melted. She began to see me as a diligent, cheerful, and kind daughterinlaw. She even admitted, grudgingly, that I was a good match for her son. I also told her about my own past: my mother had died eleven years ago, and my father had remarried a woman with two young children. The stepmother made it clear that I had to fend for myself, which only strengthened my resolve to build a stable life.
Its not because of that I married James, I blushed when Margaret looked at me with a furrowed brow, I got a scholarship and a place in a student hall, but I truly love James. Margarets face softened; she embraced me and tears of both sorrow and relief welled up. In that moment I felt a weight lift from her shoulders, as if some longheld grief was finally easing.
A year later James returned from his service, got a job at the district council and began commuting daily. I took a position as the organiser and head of the dance club at the new town hall. Our salaries were modest, but our daughter Lucy was born, adding another financial strain. Margaret stepped in, helping with childcare and covering expenses whenever she could. Soon after, James transferred to a larger firm, began travelling for work, and his promotions saw his pay rise dramatically. The small village hall was replaced by a spacious community arts centre, and I was promoted to its manager, while still running my beloved dance troupe, leading local girls to win prizes at regional competitions.
Life settled into a comfortable rhythm. We bought a nice family car, renovated the house, and took holidays by the sea. Everything seemed perfect until Lucy moved to Leeds for university and got married. I missed her terribly and, remembering my longstanding dream of working in a major cultural venue, suggested to James that we sell our house, buy a flat in Leeds, and help Lucy clear her mortgage. He thought about it for a moment, then agreed, noting that our company had a branch there, so a transfer would be possible. He warned that it would be tough: wed have to put his entire salary into a savings account and live on Margarets pension and my earnings. We all agreed at the family meeting and began to save.
The move made life noticeably harder. I wasnt one to complainmy upbringing was modestbut James started staying later and later at work, citing extra responsibilities that boosted his pay. I trusted his explanation, yet an uneasy feeling lingered. When I finally voiced my worries, he snapped, Im working from dawn till dusk to earn more. Stop nagging me! Decide if you want me here or a flat in Leeds, or if you want to shoo the grandchildren away on a bus. Just endure it. I swallowed my pride and kept quiet, but the tension grew.
One night James came home at 1:30a.m. for the third night in a row. I could no longer hold back and told him I didnt want to move any more; I wanted us to return to the way things were, with him home in the evenings so we could spend time together. He listened, stripped off his coat, and went to bed without a word, turning his back to the wall. The next night he was late again.
Then James vanished. He left for work one morning and never returned. By the next evening his phone was switched off, and I had no way to contact any of his colleagueshe never spoke about his job at home. In panic I called the morgue and the local hospital, then, trembling with fear, decided to drive to Leeds to the office where he had worked.
Margaret stood beside me, her face gaunt, unable to sleep. Dont worry, Mum, hell be found, alive and well, I whispered as gently as I could, hugging her. Tears welled up despite my attempts to stay strong. Hell turn up, I know it, I told myself, fighting the panic that threatened to choke me.
At the bus stop a familiar voice called out, Hey, Emily, heading into town? Lets go together. My friend, Claire, asked if I was looking to buy a new car. I stared at her, bewildered, as she blurted out, Your James withdrew a huge sum from his account at the bank a few days ago. I saw it on the utility bill. Are you aware of this? My heart stopped. The money hed taken must have something to do with his disappearance.
I rushed to his former office, only to learn from the receptionist that James had recently resigned. He had apparently moved to another job, but no one knew where. I went to the police to file a missingperson report. They took my statement seriously and promised to start a search.
The next day an officer called me in. Why didnt you tell us you and James divorced three months ago? he asked, irritation clear in his voice. That changes everything. Did you find any of his documents at home? Did he take everything with him? I stared at him, confused. He produced a copy of a court decree and a marriagetermination certificate. I had never seen those papers. My world turned upside down.
When I returned home and told Margaret, she clutched her mouth in shock. Im so sorry, she whispered, trembling. James told me that a court summons would be sent to you because of a fraudulent loan taken out in your name. He asked me to hide the papers so you wouldnt be distressed. He promised he would sort it out with his lawyer friend. I had no idea it would end in a divorce. She sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Did he fake the divorce? I whispered, sinking onto the sofa. Where is he? What happened to him? Margarets voice broke as she confessed, He texted me this morning, saying hes left with another woman and theyll marry soon. He took all the moneysaid it was his salary. She looked at me with raw, pleading eyes. I was going to move into an assistedliving home and transfer the property to you, hoping youd forgive me.
I stood, shivered, and stepped outside into the cold night. The chill was not from the air but from the emptiness inside me. I remembered the lilac shrubs and the two birch trees we planted by the fence years ago, their trunks now strong and steadfastunlike my marriage. I recalled James pulling our little daughter on a sled down the snowy lane, the day a runaway piglet escaped from the farm and we all chased it, laughing. The memories flooded back, and I wept, the ache in my heart overwhelming.
I wont let you go, Mum, I said firmly, turning back into the house. James betrayed me, but you havent. I embraced Margaret, feeling the bond between us finally heal. Later that evening, after wed both sobbed until our throats ached, we called Lucy and told her everything. She was horrified by her fathers actions and swore she would never forgive him. Then she offered us a place to stay.
I was planning a surprise for you later, but we need room now. Were expecting twins, so I need you, Grandma, here with us. Sell your house, move into our threebedroom flattheres plenty of space. Will you come? Lucy asked. Margaret and I exchanged a look, tears turning into smiles. Of course we said yes.
James did visit once, hoping to reconcile, but Lucy refused to let him in. He may have wanted to return, but no one was waiting for himnot even his own mother.
Now, as I close this entry, I feel a strange mix of loss and relief. I have let go of the man who broke my trust, but I have gained a deeper connection with the woman who raised me as her own. Life will keep moving forward, and perhaps one day Ill look back and see that even the darkest chapters help shape the person we become.
