The Plain Jane with a Dowry
“Paul, look Is that Victor?” Nina, digging in the garden, lifted her head at the sound of the gate creaking open.
“Aye, its him. And hes got a big bag with him,” Paul and Nina exchanged knowing glances.
“Looks like hes packed his things Blimey, did Margaret finally throw him out? Serves him right, the rake.”
Paul brushed the dirt from his handshe and his wife had been planting seedlingsand went to greet his brother. Nina stayed behind, watching from a distance. “Paul will tell me whats what No need for me to rush over to that conceited sod,” she thought, and was about to return to work when she saw Victor wave at her with a strained, guilty smile. She waved back, thinking, “Like a cat thats been at the cream Mustve done something rotten if hes turned up here with his tail between his legs.”
Paul didnt speak long with his brother before returning to the garden, while Victor trudged inside.
“You were right, Nina!” Paul said when he came back. “Margarets kicked him out. Not that hed ever admit faultalways blames her. But we know the truth. Shes had enough”
“Can you blame her? She turned a blind eye for years to his drinking and rows. And he raised his hand to her more than once I can see why she stayedhes six years younger, handsome. And she had a daughter with him after five years of trying with her first husband. Suppose she was afraid of losing him,” Nina mused.
“Aye, with her looks You know what they called her at her old job?” Paul smirked. “The Witch of Woking!”
Ninas brows shot up.
“Really?”
“Oh yes. And would you believe, she answered to it and laughed.”
“Shes got a sense of humour, Ill give her that. But even that doesnt help when your homes in shambles,” Nina sighed.
…Paul had met Margaret at work. She was twenty-eight then, a dispatcher for a cab firm, while he fixed the radios for the drivers. She was married to the young director of the company, a charming fellow named Edward. Theyd been wed five years but had no children. Paul had always wondered what a handsome chap like Edward saw in such a plain, rough-edged woman.
Then one day, Pauls younger brother Victor dropped by the office. It happened to be Margarets birthday, and shed brought cake for the dispatchers and lads to share right there. They had a grand time, until Edward was called away on business. Then Margaret and Victoralways one to flirthit it off straightaway. She roared at his jokes, and he basked in her laughter, spinning tales ever taller.
Paul never noticed the spark between them, but it caught fire all the same. It was November when they met; by March, Margaret announced she and Edward were divorcing.
“Whats left for me in that marriage? My clocks ticking, and still no child Ive been checkedIm fine. But Ed refuses to see a doctor. Children werent in his plans. And hes carrying on with other women, I know it. Everyone pities me, whispering behind my back: Look at the Witch of Wokingwhat does he even see in her?”
When Victor told his family he was getting married, his parents were thrilled, but Paul was stunned.
“To who, Vic?”
“Margaret!” he beamed.
“But shes years older, and”
“Plain, you mean? So what! Shes loaded. Her aunts director of a design firm. Margaret says shell get me a job there. Her mum and brother live in Irelandtheyve got their own business. They send parcels every month, stuffed with everything from socks to smoked salmon! And her flats lovelytwo bedrooms, done up proper. They even send her pounds for the bills. Its in her mums name, mind. Plus, theres a two-storey cottage outside town with a garden and a big plot. Weve been there A proper dowry, shes got!”
“A dowrys grand, but do you love her?” Paul asked.
“Course! Shes a laugh! And a cracking cook!” Victor grinned.
The family exchanged glances. Hard to argue with that.
Soon enough, Margaret and Victor wed.
When Margaret found she was expecting, her joy knew no bounds.
“I told Edward the problem was him! Three months with Victor, and heres our little one on the way!”
The baby girl was born healthy, a delight to her parents and grandparents. Once she turned six months old, Margaret and Victor began leaving her with Granny on weekends while they went to the cottage. The garden kept them busy.
But Margaret once confided in Nina that Victor often dropped her off at the cottage and dashed back to town, claiming work. He was always “on the fiddle,” with money to spare. Paul and Nina sometimes visited to help Margaret with the chores.
Time flew, and little Emily turned three. They celebrated with family at Margarets flat, the table laden with Irish delicacies sent by her kin. The birthday girl was dressed head to toe in designer clothesgifts from her granny abroad. But all evening, Victor kept slipping out to take calls. Margaret eyed him suspiciously.
“Victor, honestly! Who keeps ringing? Weve guestspay them some mind!”
“Just work, love. Nothin to fret over,” he muttered, avoiding her gaze.
Two years passed. Victor worked at the design firm with Margaret, a cushy job with good pay. But life had more surprises in store.
One day, Victor told Paul they were all off to Ireland.
“Her folks want to see the little oneonly ever met her on Skype. Her mums been saving three years for this trip. Wants to see her favourite son-in-law” He preened.
The trip was a triumph. Victor regaled his family with tales of the adventure.
“Her mum wouldnt leave me alone! Victor dear, Victor dear Piled my plate high. Ive put on three stone!” he bragged.
“Favourite son-in-law!” Margaret smiled, ruffling his hair.
The memories fuelled many a pub tale afterward.
One Saturday, as Nina tidied, the doorbell rang. Her mother-in-law beat her to it.
“Ill get it,” she said, heading to the gate.
Nina peered out and saw a young woman with two little girls.
“Beggars?” she wondered. “No, dressed decent Whos this?” Her mother-in-law spoke with them five minutes before shutting the gate, pale as a sheet when she returned.
“Who was it?” Nina asked.
“Oh asking after someone,” the woman muttered before retreating to her room. Nina heard hushed voicesclearly, something was amiss.
“Hello, Paul?” Margaret rang one Sunday. “Is Victor there?”
“No, not here” Paul frowned.
“Gone already? Hell be home soon, then. Hows the tap? Fixed it before the flood?”
“Eh? What tap?”
“Yesterday, when yours burst” Margarets voice turned sharp. “Victor raced over at five, said youd called in a panic.”
“Ah” Paul floundered.
A heavy silence fell.
“Right. Got it,” she said flatly, and Paul knew shed twigged.
After hanging up, he rang Victor.
“If youre spinning tales, at least clue me in! Margaret calledI looked a right fool. She knows you lied. Where you were is your business, but howll you explain it to her?”
Their mother overheard.
“Son, whats happened? Whats going on with Victor and Margaret?” She hesitated, then blurted, “That woman last weekLucy, Victors old flamecame with two girls. Said they were his. My granddaughters.” She burst into tears. “Two families! Lying to his wife! God help us If Margaret finds out”
But she didgood souls made sure of it. Her beloved husband had been carrying on with another woman since before theyd met, even fathering two children with her.
“This is your thanks for all weve done!” Margaret shrieked when the truth came out. “The job, the cottage, the car, the flat, the trip to Ireland! Favourite son-in-law, my foot! How do I tell my mother? Pack your things and go! Today! And find another jobIll see you sacked by morning!”
“Wherell I go, love? Forgive meI love you! I cant live without you” Victor whined.
“Youve got another familyfigure it out!”
“Lucys shacked up with some bloke now”
“Not my problem,” Margaret said coldly.
…When Victor slunk to his parents house like a whipped dog, Paul thought, “What a foolto toss away a family and a fortune for a bit of skirt, and end up with nothing but empty pockets.”
