“Natalie, you won’t believe what I’ve just heard!” Emily, usually so composed, spoke in a breathless rush, her voice trembling.
Natalie looked up from her knitting, startled by her friends uncharacteristic agitation. “Goodness, whats happened?”
“I cant tell you over the phone. Im just round the cornercan I pop in?”
“Of course, come over.” Natalie set down her needles, curiosity prickling.
***
“Well, out with it!” Natalie urged, motioning Emily to the kitchen table where a fresh pot of Earl Grey steamed beside a plate of warm scones.
Emily hesitated, twisting her hands. “I dont even know where to begin.”
“Start at the beginning,” Natalie coaxed.
“The beginning?” Emily exhaled sharply. “Right. Welldo you remember Dr. Margaret Harper from the childrens clinic?”
“Dr. Harper? Of course! She was a marvel. Saved my Thomass life more than once,” Natalie said warmly. “Diagnosed him when no one else could. Always went above and beyondeven gave out her personal number. An absolute saint, that woman.”
“Exactly,” Emily nodded. “She saved my Sophie, too. If not for her, God knows what mightve happened.”
“Why bring her up now?” Natalie frowned. “Shes been retired for years. Last I heard, she sang in the church choir.”
“Sang,” Emily corrected quietly. “Shes gone, Natalie.”
“What? But I saw her just last monthlaughing, full of life. She didnt look ill!”
“She wasnt.” Emilys voice turned brittle. “She was perfectly healthy. It was her own children who did it. Drove her into the grave.”
“Dont be ridiculous,” Natalie gasped.
“Oh, its true.” Emilys face hardened, her eyes clouded with something like disbelief.
***
Margaret Harperonce just Maggiehad married a young RAF cadet fresh out of medical school. She followed her husband, William, from base to base, setting up clinics in every sleepy town they passed through. By the time they settled in Bristol, they had two children: Jane, the spitting image of her father, and little Oliver, who had his mothers gentle eyes.
William flew sorties; Margaret tended to the sick children of the garrison.
Being an officers wife was its own kind of servicelonely, relentless. The children, the house, the unspoken rules of military lifeall of it rested on her shoulders. But Margaret never complained. She smiled through it, fooling everyone, even her closest friends, into believing her life was seamless.
Jane was brilliant, aloofa girl who preferred books to people. Oliver was the opposite: charming, careless, always strumming his guitar or chasing girls. Margaret worried for them bothfor Janes isolation, for Olivers lack of direction.
Then, one Sunday morning, William walked out. No explanation. No warning.
Margaret had known about the other woman, of course. Shed turned a blind eye, biting her tongue for the childrens sake. But William, emboldened by her silence, grew brazen. Soon, he moved in with a widow down the streeta woman with a toddler. The gossip swirled, but no one ever learned the truth. William retired soon after, took his new family, and vanished.
***
Margaret was shattered. Twenty years of marriagegone.
Shed followed him from one drafty billet to another, raised their children in temporary housing, worked double shifts at the clinic. Shed never imagined betrayal, not after all those years. But the wall between them had risen silently, and by the time she noticed, it was too late.
She stayed for the children. And in return, they blamed her for their fathers abandonment.
William, the rare visitor, became a hero in their eyes. She had taught them to adore him.
***
The war at home began quietly.
Jane and Oliver stopped listening to her. Every word was met with scorn or silence. Margaret endured, smoothing over every argument, waiting for them to grow up, to understand.
They never did.
Jane left for Oxford, married a wealthy businessman, and bought a flat in Bristolnot to live in, but to rent out. She visited twice a year, if that. Oliver, meanwhile, stumbled through two failed marriages, sired two children, and drank away every job he touched. By forty, he was back on Margarets doorstepa permanent guest.
She let him stay. Guilt gnawed at hershed failed him, robbed him of a fathers guidance. Oliver, sensing her weakness, spiralled. He drank recklessly, then fled altogether to dodge child support.
“Thats awful,” Natalie murmured.
“It gets worse,” Emily said darkly. “Margaret went to the courts and took over his payments. She worked double shifts to cover his debtsto spare him the consequences.”
“Why on earth would she do that?”
“Because she couldnt bear to see her grandchildren suffer. Or her son punished.”
“Madness.”
“Yes. But that was Margaret. When Oliver finally slunk back, he brought a girlfriend with him. They moved in, treating Margaret like a housemaid. A year later, they threw her outliterally packed her things and left her on the doorstep.”
“No!”
“Oh, yes. She sat there for days. Neighbours finally tracked down Jane, who grudgingly took her inthen handed her the keys to the rented flat and said, Pay your own way. Then she left.”
***
For a few blissful months, Margaret lived in peace. Alone. She joined the church choir, found solace in hymns.
Then Oliver turned up drunk, demanding money. He took her purse, her pension cardeverything.
“Mum, how will I live?” she whispered.
“Figure it out,” he slurred. “Or let the old folks home feed you.”
She rationed what little she had, stretching three months on scraps.
Then Jane stormed in.
“Why havent you paid the rent?” she shrieked.
Margaret tried to explainOliver had taken everything.
Janes lip curled. “If you love him so much, go live with him.” She bundled Margaret into the car, dumped her outside Olivers flat, and drove away without a glance.
Oliver, bleary-eyed, shut the door in her face.
Margaret collapsed on the step, weepinguntil an old friend found her.
“Come home with me,” the woman insisted.
Margaret went. For six months, she had shelter. Then the friend called Jane in a rage: “Im not your mothers keeper! Sort this out.”
Janes solution? A bed in a locked psychiatric ward. She took Margarets phone, told the staff not to bother her unless it was urgent.
Four months later, Margaret diedconfused, alone.
Jane collected the ashes. No one knows where they were scattered.
Oliver still mutters, between drinks, about how nice it was when someone else did the cooking.
***
No one knows where Dr. Margaret Harper is buried. But they remember herthe children she healed, the lives she saved.
Some blame William. Others blame the children.
A few murmur, “She brought it on herself. Spoiled them. Neglected them for other peoples kids.”
And the rarest of all, those who pause, then say quietly: “Nothing happens without reason. Theres always a why.”
