Valerie was staring at herself in the mirror with a sigh. Look at me, old bean My face is drooping, double chin, wrinkles everywhere Sixtysix isnt exactly a walk in the park, especially after the kind of life Ive led, she muttered, trying to pop the loose curlers back onto her hair. Her daughter had stuck them on her this morning because today the village was throwing a bash fifty years since the local secondary school first opened its doors. Valerie was one of the first pupils to walk across that stage.
The school had been decked out for the occasion, the headmaster from the nearby town was due, and the whole village would be there. Theyd promised that a few old classmates from the city would turn up, though most of them were far away now and many had already passed on over the years.
Rex, the family dog, let out a bark outside. Valerie looked out the kitchen window and saw a lone figure lingering by the gate. She threw on her old cardigan and went to greet the guest. At first she didnt recognise her, but when the woman spoke, Valeries eyes widened it was her schoolgirlfriend, Gwen.
Got the invitation and thought Id pop back to the old haunts. Im not sure Ill ever get another chance. Ive got nowhere to stay; my familys long gone, Gwen said, looking a bit nervous. Can I crash at your place?
Of course, Valerie replied, and they hugged, tears slipping down both faces half from joy, half from the weight of years.
You look stunning, Valerie said, admiring her friend.
Living in the city had its perks. My husband was a senior manager, so I had to keep up appearances. If Id stayed in the countryside, Id probably look just like you now! Sorry if that sounded braggy, Gwen laughed, biting her lip.
Dont worry, Im not offended. I can spot the difference in a heartbeat. You look at least fifteen years younger, even though were the same age, Valerie sighed.
That evening the village ladies paraded into the school. Only eight city folk managed to make the trip. Most of them hadnt seen each other for ages and struggled to put names to faces. After the formal ceremony they set about the feast, raising glasses to old friendships, reminiscing, laughing and catching up till the clock struck midnight.
Gwen stayed over at Valeries cottage; they werent ready for bed yet. They talked till the early hours. Gwen told how city life had been a rollercoaster: her husband had been a good man, they were inseparable, but hed died three years ago. Their only daughter lives in London, graduated from university and is happily married. She and her husband are childfree Gwen pronounced the term with a hint of pride, and when Valerie asked what it meant, she explained its a conscious choice to forgo having kids.
Gwen was a bit sad about it, but she made do. Her daughter only visited a couple of times, always busy with work. She couldnt even attend her own fathers funeral because of a demanding job. Though she doesnt invite her mother over, she does send money whenever she can. Thanks to that support, Gwen can afford a weekend at a spa and get by without worrying about every penny. Her own pension is tiny she never built up enough contributions because her husband discouraged her from working.
So, youre a widow too? I heard your Nick was a heavy drinker. Any kids? Gwen asked, curious.
Just the usual village tale, Valerie replied. Most of the lads down the lane were boozers, especially after the local timber mill shut and work vanished. My husband was a quiet sort when sober you could barely get a word out of him but when he got drunk he turned into a right terror. Anger flew from every crack. Id be his fiercest enemy then. Wed sometimes have to hide in our clothes, hoping a drunk would rush past so we could slip out early.
She went on, I kept a few piglets, two sows, sold the young ones when they grew, and gave the rest for meat. My husband gave up drinking and smoking only when it was too late his health was wrecked. Wed drink anything that burned, any nasty stuff. Its been two years since Ive seen a drop.
Her children all stayed in the village. Her daughter Lucy finished teacher training, now teaches at the local primary school. Her soninlaw is the headmaster and also a councilor you saw him today, a decent bloke who fought hard to keep the school from being downsized to just nine grades. He wrote to London, and they listened.
Her twin sons served together in the army, stayed together, and now both work on the offshore rig, earning good wages. She has six grandchildren, two each, who are all keen on having families of their own How can you live without kids? shed say. The grandsons only have a drink on special occasions, never like their old dad.
The next morning Valerie walked Gwen to the bus stop, handing her a parcel of thick bacon slices with a bit of fat and a jar of raspberry jam. Outside, the chill made Valeries old coat feel even more outofdate compared to Gwens sleek down jacket, chic fauxfur hat, and lowheeled boots. Gwen looked polished, lips glossy with red balm, while Valerie was bundled in a faded coat, sturdy felt slippers, and a fluffy shawl.
The bus pulled up. They hugged tightly, promising to call each other often. Gwen hopped on with ease, while Valerie trudged home with her heavy steps.
P.S. Both started life on a similar footing, yet their paths turned out miles apart. Was it luck? Fate? Some hidden force tugging at womens lives? Then again, nothing is ever as simple as it first seems. Who do you reckon is the happier one?
