Let the daisies grow

Broken-hearted again, Annie knew she was going to have to be strong – like the new buds of spring…

It was winter when he left me. I stood at the kitchen sink looking out over the garden, desolate in its nakedness as I, too, was desolate.

The front door had slammed behind him and I had continued to stand there looking at the leafless trees, the bare earth, seeing no beauty in the silvery gleams of frost snaking their way across the grass. And I thought back to the spring, to when it had all begun. ‘

Someone’s moved in next door.’

I had greeted Dave with the news when he’d arrived home from work. He’d smiled and grunted, giving me a warm kiss on the lips before pouring a drink and settling himself in the living room. Dave needed at least 10 minutes to adjust from his hectic work schedule to relaxing at home, and I was happy to give him that time. After all, I was secure in my 30-year marriage, wasn’t I?

OK, so he had always had an eye for a pretty girl – in fact, I had turned a blind eye to what I called his ‘flings’. We rubbed along nicely in spite of those, I thought.

Our two daughters had flown the nest telling me I was stupid to put up with his behaviour, but we had friends, gave dinner parties and enjoyed walks along the coast at weekends.

Dave had a sailing boat he pottered about in, but unfortunately the family joke was that I could get seasick in a puddle. It had never bothered us. While he sailed, I’d garden, sinking my hands into the rich earth, planting bulbs, mowing the lawn – an orderly lawn, like my life.

‘So, do you want to know what she’s like, the new woman next door?’ I said later, joining him on the sofa.

‘Not particularly, but I’m sure you’ll tell me,’ he grinned and raised an eyebrow, running his hand through still-thick hair, which was greying slightly, but made him even more attractive, I thought.