Lydia, youve got to chooseeither me or your parents! This time, my husband stood firm, no room for argument.
Rodney, you know Id follow you anywhere, even to the ends of the earth. But dont shut out my parents. You called them *old* yourselfhave a little mercy.
I want nothing to do with them! But if youre such a devoted daughter, go visit them, Rodney shot me a reproachful look.
My first husband was a man whod served in Afghanistan. Simon seemed brave, fearlessand he was. A decorated major, a hardened soldier.
Our son, Matthew, was born. My parents adored their son-in-law, doted on their grandson.
Now, Lydia, love, your mum and I can rest easy. Simons a good man. Weve left you in safe handsdont let us down, Dad would remind me at every chance, singing my husbands praises.
Simon barely noticed Matthew. The boy would reach for his father, but Dad was always off fishing, meeting army mates, or just *not in the mood*.
Eventually, Matthew stopped reaching for him at all.
Then things got worse. Simons depression turned vicious. Best to steer clear when it took hold. I pulled away.
Matthew was five when Simon, drunk out of his mind, put on his uniform and threatened our boy with his service revolver. That was the final straw. His mind was shatteredAfghanistan had left scars too deep. I couldnt risk our lives. We divorced, no arguments.
When my parents found out, they tore into me:
*You failed as a wife! Where will you find another like him? He was one in a million! Youll regret this!*
Looking back, I never did regret it. Simon became just a closed chapter. He spent years searching for a wifeeventually married a deaf woman.
My second husband came along quickly. Work took me to small towns, drawing up contracts. Thats when I met Rodneytall, sharp, all smiles. He stuck in my mind.
We disagreed that first day, so I had to return to his office a few times. A pleasant little flirtation began.
*Lydia, let me take you to dinner. Ill drive you home myself tomorrow,* Rodney kissed my hand like some old-fashioned gentleman.
I nodded. Matthew was staying with Mum and Dadwhy not enjoy the company of a charming man?
Well, one thing led to another
We fell hard, fuelled by passion. Rodney was six years younger, divorced, with a seven-year-old daughter.
I knew my parents wouldnt approvetoo young, too cocky, *green*, as theyd say. But I didnt care. I loved him fiercely.
*Mum, Dad, Im getting married. Rodney and I want to take you to dinner.* Saying it wasnt easy.
They gaped.
*Youre joking, Lydia! We thought youd patch things up with Simon. You have a child together.*
*Forget Simonhe forgot Matthew long ago. End of story. Youll meet Rodney tomorrow. Dont mention my ex. It wont go well.*
I braced for disaster.
Rodney arrived with gifts and a plan:
*After the wedding, Id like us all under one roof. Youre not getting any younger. Lydia and I can look after youerrands, doctor visits. What do you say?*
Dad scratched his head.
*Suppose that makes sense. But where? Were crammed in our flat. Lydias got her placeex left it to her,* he shot me a look. *And what about you, son? Got a house?*
*Dreaming of a three-storey home. Ill build it, move everyone in,* Rodney grinned, painting the picture.
We had a lively wedding, then a Mediterranean cruisefirst of many trips, Rodney promised. Always with Matthew and his daughter, Lucy. His ex-wife happily sent her along.
Rodney treated Matthew like his own. But Lucy? She eyed me coldly, whispered in her dads ear, never spoke to me.
Three years later, we moved into that three-storey houseland enough for gardens, orchards, whatever we fancied. Rodney was the perfect son-in-law. Everything designed for my parents comfortkitchen and bedroom downstairs, no stairs to climb. Matthews room was at the top*Let the lad run up and down,* Rodney said. We took the middle floor.
The yard had a summer kitchen, a triple garage.
Later came giftsa motorbike for Matthews twentieth, a luxury car for my birthday, a spa retreat for Mum, a fishing boat for Dad.
Yet my parents and Matthew acted like it was nothingnever appreciating Rodney. Just complaints, snide remarks. He ignored it:
*Lydia, I want peace. Let them whisper. My conscience is clear. I provide, I respect them. What more do they want? Simons their golden boybut I cant be him. You cant please everyone.*
We drifted apart, living as strangers under one roof. They never understoodloves a two-way street, not a bulldozer plowing one way.
Time ticked on
Matthew brought home a girl, announced:
*This is Vera. Shes moving in.*
*Who is she? Your fiancée? Wife?* I tensed.
Matthew just dragged her upstairs without a word.
Fine. Hes grown. If her parents dont care about her virtue, why should I?
But Vera wasnt shysoon gave me reason to worry.
*Lydia, Matthew and I want the second floor. Were having a baby. Talk to the old folks,* she drawled, legs crossed, sipping *my* coffee, blowing smoke.
She refused to call us *Mr.* or *Mrs.**Equality, darling.*
*Vera, slow down. This is still *my* house. Respect your eldersor the doors open.*
She yelled for Matthew:
*Did you hear that? Lydias throwing me outpregnant and all!*
Matthew shoved mehard. I hit my head on the table, ended up in hospital with a concussion. Lying there, I sobbed. My own son, the boy Id loved, raised, *hit* mefor *her*.
Turned out? No baby. Never was.
Rodney, furious, called the police. But I wouldnt press charges*Just slipped,* I lied.
The betrayal festered. Hed traded me for that *creature*.
After recovery, I forgave. *Families fight. Itll blow over.*
Matthew knelt: *Mum, Im sorry. I lost my head.*
I kissed his forehead, cried. *He understands now.*
Peace at last? No.
That night, Rodney dropped a bomb:
*You know Vera crawled into our bed while you were in hospital?*
*What?*
*Woke up to her staring at me. She and Matthew had been partyinghe was dead drunk. Asked what she wanted. She just curled up next to me.*
*And?*
*Kicked her out. Went back to sleep.* He sounded honest.
Too much. Tell Matthew? Hed deny it. Confront Vera? Shed twist it. I waitedtime would tell.
Then my parents turned on Rodney:
*Lydia, hes a womaniser! You leave town, hes in bed with some tart! Dump him!*
Hear something enough, you believe it. Life became hell. Why couldnt they let us be?
Rodney and I fought over nothing. Finally, he left. A month passedno calls, no visits.
Then a friend rang:
*Lydia! Just saw Rodney with some blonde. You know?*
*Idiot!* Leave a man like that alone, and vultures circle.
I dragged him back. Turns out? It was Lucytwenty-five, still single, *too good for marriage*.
Rodney had done some thinking:
*Choose, Lydiame or your parents. Otherwise, were done.*
I pitied Mum and Dadfrail, stumbling. Yet the moment Rodneys name came up, they *hissed* like cats. Nothing he did softened their hearts.
So we moved. Bought a fixer-upper in the countryside. Ten acresno sideways glances, no bending to anyone. *Better a dry crust with peace than a feast with strife.*
Now my parents call, cursing:
*Youre no daughter! Left us to rot! That bitch Veras threatening to dump us in a home! May your husbands legs wither! He ruined us!*
But Rodney and I? Were happy. Quiet. In love. Even got married in the village church.
