I remember it like a faded photograph from the old days in a small Yorkshire village.My dear, youve decided to marry, my mother would say, so be patient! Your bellys already out, youre an adult now! Margaret, a thin woman of modest means, had watched her daughter, Emily, with a mixture of worry and weary resignation.
Emily was only seventeen when she first felt the change. She had tried to keep the news from her parents, but the growing roundness of her stomach could no longer be hidden. It didnt take long for the village folk to discover who the father of the expected child would be.
Emily had loved Thomas ever since they first met at the start of the school year in September, when they were both in the seventh form. Over the long summer they had grown a little taller, a little wiser, yet they were still merely lads and lasses. Their school bags swung between the rows of desks, they were habitually late, and they often skipped lessons together. Laughter, jokes, the usual schoolyard life.
Thomas was taller than most, quicker, better at everything. Thats when Emilys heart went out to him, though the feeling was unrequited at first. She kept silent, fearing to make a spectacle of herself, while he seemed oblivious. Eventually he noticed her, and they started to spend time together.
The truth of their situation could not stay concealed. Their parents arranged a marriage almost at once, and Emily felt a surge of relief. The new household began in Thomass mothers cottage. Thomas was the eldest of three children; his two sisters were still at school in the fifth and seventh forms, while he had already taken up work.
Now youre a man, youve proved you can father a child, his mother said bluntly. Show us youre an adult. We have two daughters of our own, but we have no intention of supporting your wife and child!
Emilys adult life began in the same harsh fashion. She had to abandon her studies, and even a job as a maid was denied to her. She spent her days cleaning the large cottage because she had no other work. All the household chores fell on her shoulders. Thomass sisters laughed, now relieved of washing dishes, sweeping floors, and tidying the house.
They even tried to make her life harder: more dirty dishes, crumbs scattered on the floor, random stains on cupboards and walls. Emily understood the spite, but there was no one to whom she could complain.
Thomas went off to work, indifferent to the turmoil at home. He scarcely spent any time at home, and was never truly fond of Emily. He had married under his parents pressure. Emily tried to speak with her mother, but the conversation led nowhere.
Marry if you must, endure it! the mother would repeat. Your bellys out, youre a woman now!
Soon Emily grew weary of her marriage. She would have fled if not for the baby she was carrying. The child came easily, but life did not improve. No help arrived for the infant, and the endless chores never ceased. Thomas returned later and later, sometimes not at all.
Emily sensed his wandering ways and even guessed with whom. The more she thought, the less she liked life in her motherinlaws house, where she was treated like a servant, crying at night and dreaming of a different future.
One day Thomass sister-inlaw, Eleanor Whitfield, arrived from London. To Emily she seemed a woman of iron willquiet, observant, and rarely speaking. Eleanor kept a watchful eye over everything in the cottage, finding fault at every turn and complaining to her sister. Meanwhile Thomas felt free to leave for evenings out. Their mother argued, but could do nothing.
Without my consent they wed me! Thomas shouted, Now live with my wife as you see fit, and strode out.
Eleanor watched everything. Two weeks passed slowly, then the day came for her to depart. What did you come for after five years away? muttered Emilys mother under her breath, What are you sniffing around for?
Morning found everyone heading to work. Emily offered to see Eleanor off.
Ill see you off, and well take a walk with little Mary, she said.
I have watched your family. Youre exhausted, the bags under your eyes tell it, youre holding on by a thread. How do you bear this, girl? And tell medo you know about Thomas?
I know.
Want to go somewhere? Pack your things, well go together, youll get a rest from them.
But where? Theyll never let me return, theres nowhere to go.
Well sort that. Pack, and Ill stroll round the house with a cart.
What about a ticket? I have no money.
Dont worry about that. I have no ticket either. A carriage will be here in two hours. Hurry, and bring nothing youll need later. You likely wont return. Ill tell you everything when we arrive. Its only a threehour ride.
The carriage pulled up at the gate of a modest but tidy cottage, far cleaner than the one Emily knew. The driver steered it into the yard and left.
This is the neighbour. I cant drive myself, so sometimes I ask him. If you wish to get a driving licence, Ill help you. Come in, make yourself at home, and rest. Your room is on the right.
Half an hour later Eleanor began her tale.
My sister and I never spoke much. I had a daughter who left for university and later died. She was drawn to extreme sports, river rapids and the like. Her first trek ended in tragedy. After that my husband left, unable to cope. I was left alone, so I came to my sister asking for help and to leave an inheritance.
The answer was no room. Thomas married, you and your child are his daughters. I saw that everything rests on you. They dont understand that.
My sister expects everything done for her. Theyve placed the whole burden on you. Thomas doesnt love you. Hell never help. No one will come to your aid, not even your own parents.
I wanted to leave my house to Thomas, thinking hed have a family, a child, but he Ive decided. Bear with me a little longer; it will all be yours. I think its time to file for divorce.
I have about a year left. We can manage it. Call me Auntie Iris. Get used to the house being yours completely.
What will they say?
Dont think about it. They have enough of their own troubles. Keep your strength; you have a daughter.
Eleanor Whitfield lived just over a year after that. Emily divorced Thomas, who remarried quickly. Relatives came to Eleanors funeral, openly expressing their displeasure at the sisters decisions. Thomas tried to rekindle the marriage, but the road back was closed.
Now Emily lives with her daughter in a modest house of her own. She finally obtained her driving licence, studies parttime at a university, and, most importantly, has learned to live independently. She smiles at the thought of it all.
Such is the way life turns out. Legacies are not left to the greedy, but to those with kind hearts. And that, I think, is just.
