1926

I’ll always remember that it was a Tuesday night when it happened.

I came in from my dreary job at the office and threw my case down on the settee and huffily asked my wife where the dinner was and why it was not on the table for me coming home. She angrily retorted that she had had a busy day and that she had lots to do just to keep the place running, and that I never lifted a finger anyway to help out. I shouted back at her that my job was to keep her in the cash that kept our home running and that this was far more difficult than merely doing domestic chores. She threw a water glass off the wall and howled at me that I ought to try it some time to see just easy it was to do housework all day, every day. I threw my jacket at her and said that my mother was right and that she was just a lazy bitch who was useful for nothing. It made her cry. We stopped shouting because we had just crossed a divide we had never been near before.

We looked at each other and realised that neither of us meant one solitary word of what we were saying at all and that there was no foundation whatsoever in our argument. I didn’t really want my food on the table when I walked in and she didn’t think me domestically useless. I was twenty and she was nineteen. We had left our parents’ homes to marry and live together and had been living in that little flat since the wedding day six weeks ago. There was no argument, but we made one happen because we thought that was the way married people acted together. Having only our parents’ examples to go on we knew no better and, like the children we were, were playing a game that we thought we were acting out with sincerity. We were not. We just didn’t know how to behave.

I dried her eyes and kissed her. We made cups of tea and played piano music on the record player. We made plans and rules for ourselves. We’d holiday together once a year. We’d always kiss when we parted and hug when we met up. We’d never quarrel without making up before we go to bed. We’d hold hands in public and do everything we could together. We’d tell each other that we loved one another once a day. We’d cook together. We’d make special time for one another. We’d grow up and grow old together and never split up. We’d buy a house by the sea and we would be happy. We didn’t want children. We only needed each other.

We stayed together for the rest of our lives. We never quarreled again and we were always happy. We forgot the examples set to us and set better ones for others to follow.