Long ago, in a hospital ward somewhere in England, a scene unfolded that would linger in memory. The air smelled of antiseptic, the corridors echoed with distant murmurs, and the hum of fluorescent lights filled the silence.
“Excuse me, could you tell me where to find room two-seventeen?” asked an elderly woman, clutching a paper bag from Marks & Spencer.
“Down the hall, then right,” muttered the nurse without looking up from her magazine.
Margaret tightened her grip on the bag and walked slowly down the tiled hallway. Hospitals had always unsettled herever since her mother had passed away in one years before.
She reached the door, knocked lightly, and entered. Four men lay in the room, but her eyes went straight to the one by the window. Edward, pale and drawn, lay with his eyes closed. A wilting bouquet of chrysanthemums sat on the bedside table.
“Eddie?” she called softly.
His eyes opened, surprise flickering in them. “Maggie? How did you know I was here?”
“Ran into Mrs. Whitaker at Tesco. Asked why I hadnt seen you about. She told me.”
Margaret set the bag down and took the chair beside him. Edward looked dreadfulhollow-cheeked, his usual vigor gone.
“What happened?”
“Oh, just the heart playing up,” he said with a weak wave. “Doctors say it was a mild heart attack.”
“Good Lord, Eddie,” she gasped. “I had no idea.”
“How would you? We havent exactly kept in touch.”
There was no bitterness in his voice, only resignation. They hadnt spoken much since hed married Lindajust the occasional nod at the shops or the bus stop.
“I brought you some things,” Margaret said, unpacking homemade preserves. “Pickled onions, stewed tomatoes, blackberry jam. I remember you liked them.”
“Thanks, Mags,” he said, smiling for the first time. “Always thoughtful.”
“What do the doctors say? When are they letting you out?”
“Next week, if all goes well. But itll be strict diet and pills from now on.”
She nodded, hesitating before asking, “Hows Linda? Has she been in?”
Edward turned his face to the window. “Linda isnt my Linda anymore. We divorced.”
“What?” She nearly stood. “When?”
“Finalised three months ago. Been living apart half a year.”
“Butwhat happened?”
He sighed. “Suppose she grew tired of me. Said the love wasnt there. Wanted to start fresh.”
Margaret was stunned. Theyd been together eight years. Linda had worked at a salon, Edward at the factory. Theyd managed a modest house, a decent car.
“And the heart attackwas it because of all this?”
“Who knows? Doctors say stress mightve set it off. But my hearts been dodgy for a while. Ignored it, didnt I?”
“Where are you staying now? Who kept the house?”
“Her. I moved in with Mum. Lucky she had room, really.”
Margaret remembered Edwards mother, Dorisa stern but fair woman whod always been kind to her. The council flat was small, thoughhardly space for two.
“How did it come to this, Eddie? I remember your weddingyou both looked so happy.”
“Aye, I remember too,” he said quietly. “But people change, Maggie. Thought love lasted forever. Turns out it doesnt always.”
The words stung. She knew the feelingher own husband, Geoffrey, had left her for another woman years ago. Their daughter, Emily, had been little then. Now Emily was married herself, living up in Manchester.
“Eddie, I need to apologise,” she blurted out.
“What for?”
“For what happened back then. I treated you poorly.”
He shook his head. “That was twenty years ago, Mags. Why dredge it up now?”
“Because I shouldve said it sooner.” She swallowed. “Seeing you here, aloneit made me realise how wrong I was.”
Geoffrey had swept her off her feethandsome, charming, full of promises. Shed left Edward for him, only to be left herself five years later with a child and a mortgage.
Edward reached for her hand. “I never blamed you. Hurt like hell, sure. But if someone can walk away, maybe it wasnt meant to be.”
“And I lost both you and him,” she said with a sad smile.
“But youve got Emily. Mrs. Whitaker says shes doing wellmarried, working as a doctor. You must be proud.”
She was. Emily was her joy.
“And you and Lindano children?”
“No. She never wanted them. Said it wasnt the right time. Now I think she just didnt want them with me.”
A nurse entered with medication. “How are we feeling?”
“Alright, thanks.”
“Lets check your blood pressure.” She glanced at Margaret. “Youre family?”
Margaret faltered. Family? His former fiancée?
“She is,” Edward answered for her.
After the nurse left, silence settled between them.
“What will you do after they discharge you?” Margaret asked.
“Rest, I suppose. Doctors orders. Mum says shell put me to work in her garden.”
“Thats goodfresh air, gentle work.”
He nodded. “And you? Still on your own?”
“Yes. Used to it now. Emily calls often. Talks about grandchildren.”
“Grandkids must be grand. Id have liked that.”
The longing in his voice ached. A man of fifty-three, alone, unwelllife could be cruel.
“Eddie, give me your number. Ill check in on you.”
They exchanged contacts, her old mobile feeling clumsy in her hands.
“Need any help when youre out? Cooking, cleaning?”
“Cheers, Mags, but Mumll manage. Wouldnt want to impose.”
“No imposition. Were friends, arent we?”
“Friends,” he repeated, smiling. “I like the sound of that.”
The doctor arrived, a white-haired man with a clipboard. “Hows the patient?”
“Better, sir.”
“Good. Keep resting. If alls well, well release you Monday.” He nodded at Margaret. “Good of you to visit. Morale matters in recovery.”
After he left, Edward checked the clock. “Youd best head off. Buses run sparse this hour.”
She stood. “Ill come tomorrow, if thats alright. Bring some proper soup.”
“Please do.”
She kissed his cheek, her pulse quickening despite herself.
At the door, she nearly collided with a womantall, blonde, in a smart Burberry coat. Linda.
“Hello, Eddie,” she said, ignoring Margaret. “Brought you some things.”
“Ta,” Edward said flatly.
Linda finally noticed Margaret. “And you are?”
“Margaret. Weve known each other years.”
Lindas eyes narrowed. “Ah, the Margaret? The one who left him for that flash banker?”
The barb stung. Margaret held her ground. “I heard he was ill. Came to see him.”
“How touching. Where were you when he was well?”
“Linda, stop,” Edward said weakly.
“No, Im curious. Why turn up now?”
“Same reason you did, I expect,” Margaret said evenly. “Except I didnt divorce him.”
Linda paled. “Youve no right”
A nurse bustled in, frowning at the raised voices. “Ladies, this isnt helping.”
Linda left in a cloud of Chanel. Margaret lingered, reluctant to go.
Edward sighed. “Sorry about that.”
“Not your fault.”
She kissed his cheek again and stepped into the corridorwhere Linda waited.
“We should talk,” Linda said.
“About?”
“Him.” She sighed. “Im not the villain here. I just fell out of love.”
“And into someone elses arms.”
Linda looked away. “I wanted to be happy. Does that make me wicked?”
Margaret studied herthe perfect makeup, the tired eyes. “What do you want from him now?”
“Nothing. Just hoped he was alright.”
“Then let him be.”
Lindas gaze hardened. “And who are you to decide that?”
The question haunted Margaret all the way home. Who was she? The woman whod broken his heart decades ago. The one whod chosen wrong.
Yet here she was, unable to walk away.
Perhaps time had circled back to give them another chance.
