Short Story
lifestyle
HOMECOMING by DIANA ELVIN Nearing home I sighed. Amy would beg me to take her out. For goodness sake, she had all day to go out once the children were at school. There must be lots of places you can take a small baby – parks and such like. Very nice too, this weather, while I’m cooped up in the office. No, I’m the one who needs to get out in the evening after working so hard. I go home for my meal first of course. Amy says I might just as well eat at the pub since I go there anyway. Just think of the expense! She says I could afford it if I didn’t drink but, I ask you, what’s the point of going to a pub if you can’t have a few pints?
Yet, as I stood in that neat, desolate house what I felt most was a wholly unexpected emptiness and grief. It didn’t stop me feeling hungry though. I’d be able to think more clearly when I’d eaten. Miserable and confused I plodded back towards the pub. My legs felt leaden. Every step was a tremendous effort. There was a man sitting on the ground near by looking dazed. Another poor begger fallen over that paving stone I supposed. “I shall complain to the council,” I told him.
Suddenly, I tripped over a broken bit of paving and banged my head. I felt very dizzy. I’ve been meaning to complain to the council about our pavement for ages. I struggled back to my feet and set off again.
“He’s coming to at last,” said one onlooker.
The house was eerily quiet. Usually, when they hear my key in the door the boys hurl themselves at me and jabber on about their day. I try to look interested but it’s all very tiring.
There was me on the ground, blinking at the crowd, being helped to my feet, assuring them I was OK, and swept by a tidal wave of hope, of quite desperate longing to be given another chance.
That night there wasn’t a sound. Nice to have peace, of course, quite a relief but – silly really – I sort of missed them. No smell of dinner either. Amy is a really good cook and there was always a mouth-watering aroma to greet me. The house looked odd. Sort of dull and bare. All trace of Amy and the children had vanished. I looked everywhere - no clothing, no toys, nothing.
I told them I was fine. I just wanted to get home. To have my boys run down the hall and tell me about their day, and to take my wife for the first of many evenings out. It seemed a long, long way, the few yards to our house. I couldn’t be sure, until I opened the front door but it was alright. The noise, the colour, the scattered toys, and Amy’s welcoming smile.
Just supposing Amy had actually left me – and I couldn’t think why on earth she would but just supposing – where could they have gone? Who would offer shelter and support to a runaway wife with three children, two moulting rabbits and lots of smelly nappies?
You think I imagined it all? Concussion can do funny things but this one gave me a providential glimpse into the future. I know because my wife told me, months later, when we were getting on really well again, about the very efficient arrangements she had once made to leave me!
Another man? Who’d take her on with that lot? It’s not as though she’s a beauty. Though she was once, come to think of it, when we were young. Lots of men fancied her. Now I never notice what she looks like. Well you don’t, do you? Not after ten years of marriage. Anyway, the point is that she belongs to me and there isn’t any reason that I know of why anybody else should get the benefit.
I never did complain to the council about that broken paving stone – it would have seemed ungrateful somehow.
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I could now see who it was, as if I hadn’t had enough shocks for one evening!
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May 2022 Life in... BROMLEY 45
