Two friends, two destinies
I watched Virginia stare at her reflection in the hallway mirror, a sigh slipping out of her. Old age, old age, she muttered. The skin had started to sag, a double chin drooped, wrinkles etched every inch of her face. At sixtysix she wasnt a spring chicken any more, and after a life like hers, the thought was hardly a laughing matter. She tried to fasten the hair rollers her daughter had slipped on for her this morning.
Her daughter had set them on early, for today the hamlet of Littlebrook would be celebrating the fiftieth anniversary of the opening of the local secondary school. Virginia had been one of the first pupils to walk across that stage. The school was being spruced up, officials from the town of Ashford were due, and all the villagers would turn up. A few former classmates had promised to travel back, though most of them were long gone the years had taken their toll.
Buster, the old terrier, gave a sharp bark from the garden. Virginia glanced out of the window and saw a figure lingering by the gate. She pulled on her faded jacket and shuffled out to meet the guest. At first she didnt recognise her, but when the woman spoke, Virginia realised it was her schoolgirl friend Mabel.
Got the invitation and thought Id come back home for once, Mabel said, her eyes twinkling. Might be the last time Im able to. She looked around, a little lost. Theres nowhere for me to stay. My own familys long gone.
Come in, youre always welcome, Virginia replied, pulling Mabel into a hug. Both women trembled a little, half from joy, half from the ache of memory.
You look lovely, really, Virginia said, admiring her friends bright coat.
Mabel laughed. I lived in the city for a while, married a respectable man who was a manager. I had to keep up appearances, otherwise Id have been just like you, stuck here. Sorry if I sounded harsh.
Dont worry, Im not offended, Virginia answered, sipping her tea. Youre at least fifteen years younger, even if were the same age on paper.
That evening a troupe of neatly dressed women made their way to the school. Only eight people arrived from Ashford, and many struggled to recognise each other after so many years. After the formal speeches, tables were laid out, glasses were raised, and the old gang fell back into their familiar chatter. They laughed, reminisced, and lingered until after midnight.
Mabel didnt want to go straight home. She and Virginia sat up talking until the first light of dawn. Mabel recounted her city life: a good husband, a snug home, until three years ago he passed away. Their only daughter lives in London, a graduate of a university, now happily married. The couple have chosen to be childfree a term that made Virginia pause. People who deliberately decide not to have children, she explained, call themselves childfree.
Mabel admitted it had been a source of quiet sorrow. Her daughter visited only a handful of times, always busy with her demanding job, and she couldnt even attend her fathers funeral. The daughters senior position meant she rarely came home, though she sent money whenever she could. With that support, Mabel could afford occasional trips to a spa resort and manage without counting every penny. Her state pension was a meagre £80 a week she had never built up sufficient contributions because her late husband had discouraged her from working.
Are you true? I heard youre also a widow. They say your Nicholas drank too much. Where are the children? Mabel inquired.
Virginia shrugged. Its the same story for most village men. When the local timber mill shut down, the work vanished and the lads turned to the bottle. My husband was a sober, steady man never a word out of place. But when he was drunk, he turned into a beast. Anger spilled from every crack. She paused, eyes distant. Back then I was his chief opponent. Id stay up in my nightgown, waiting for the drunken night to pass, hoping I could get away before he stumbled home.
She went on, describing how shed kept a small piggery, raising two sows and selling the piglets, while her husbands health deteriorated from years of drinking and smoking. He finally gave up the habit, but it was too late his body was ruined.
Their children all remained in the village. Their daughter, Lily, finished a teachertraining college and now teaches at the local primary school. Her husband, Tom, is the headmaster and also a parish councillor. You saw him today, didnt you? Hes a good man, even a deputy in the county council now. He fought hard to keep the secondary school from being cut down to just nine years of education, writing letters all the way to London and winning the battle.
Their twin sons served together in the army, never separated, and now both work on the offshore platform at Vankor, earning a decent wage. They have six grandchildren, two at a time, and theyre very proud to be parents they cant imagine life without kids. The boys rarely drink, only on special occasions, having learned from their fathers example.
The next morning Virginia walked Mabel to the bus stop, handing her a thick slice of bacon and a jar of raspberry jam a proper sendoff. Outside, the wind made Virginias coat flutter, a reminder that she still looked the village woman compared with the cityslick Mabel, who was dressed in a stylish puffer jacket, a plush fur hat, and lowheeled boots, her lips bright with lipstick. Virginia herself wore a long, outoffashion coat, felt boots, and a woollen shawl.
When the bus pulled up, the two friends embraced, promising to keep in touch. Mabel hopped aboard with ease, while Virginia trudged home with a heavy step.
Its odd how two women started life on almost the same footing, yet their roads have diverged so wildly. Was it sheer chance? Luck? Some hidden force steering the fates of women? Perhaps the answer isnt as clear as it first appears. One wonders which of them feels happier now.
