Muffin, how could you? We were laughing together at that unwashed country girl, I thought, as I stepped out from the garden, indignant at my husbands conduct.
Forgive me, Ethel, he muttered, the devil led me astray. I still cant fathom how I found myself in Muffins bed. Thomas frowned, cursed under his breath and smoked a thin cigarette nervously.
A new family moved into our flat: Edward, his wife Molly, and their fiveyearold daughter Lucy. Thomas and I were both thirty, our son was six, and the newcomers were twentyfive. Living on the same floor, we soon became close.
Molly was a diligent country girl, especially fond of cooking. Cakes, scones, and pies earned her a place of honour in the kitchen. No wonder she swaggered into the kitchen like a queen.
Thomas and I jokingly called Molly Muffin because of her round, generous figure. Her kitchen was a shrine of jars filled with preservessomething I could never match.
I, for my part, considered myself a beautiful and wellkept lady. Molly was habitually clad in a faded nightgown and a tiny bun atop her head. Her husband Edward, as thin as a reed, and their plump daughter were always well fed. Those were Mollys only virtues, yet I still counted her a friend. Edward spent much of his time on long hauls as a lorry driver.
He had met Molly in a remote hamlet when he ducked into the village shop for a packet of cigarettes. Mollys eyes fell on the lanky stranger at once, and Edward had no chance of escaping her notice.
Nine months later, Molly gave birth to a daughter for the wandering driver. Edward brought Molly and the baby into town. When I introduced this sudden family to my mother, she flatly refused to accept either the rustic Molly or the newborn granddaughter. Edward was forced to rent a flat.
Thomas always objected to Mollys appearance.
How can a woman not love herself? he would say, shaking his head.
One day Thomass mother fell ill, a mild case at first. We took turns caring for her, but soon we decided to find a nurse. Molly volunteered.
Ill take a little work out of kindness, she said, and I need to buy my husband a rubber boat for fishing. Keep it a surprise, please. She seemed delighted at the chance to earn a few extra shillings.
Dont drown my mothers food, Muffin, I warned her, shes lost her appetite because of the illness.
Soon after, work sent me on a lengthy assignment away from home. I gave instructions to my husband, my son, and Molly, then boarded a train for another city.
A month passed before I returned. Thomas avoided my gaze, and Molly steered clear of me.
Mum, can you make the same tasty potatoes Aunt Molly makes? Her meat patties were delicious, my son announced as I stepped through the doorway.
Did Aunt Molly feed you? I asked, wary.
Yes, she brought Lucy over and took Daddy away, my son reported.
I began to suspect something. Edward was on the road, I was away on business
In the evening, after a hearty dinner for my husband, I pressed for a candid talk.
Thomas, I know everything. The boy told me everything, I said, hoping my words might melt his resolve.
There was nothing, Thomas replied, blushing not a shade.
Come now, relax. It was just a fling. I dont think youd ever go after Molly, I sighed in relief.
But Thomas started visiting his ailing mother more often, lingering there for hours. I went to see his mother; she sat composed, wellkept, but alone. I searched for Edward and for Muffin.
I knocked on Mollys door.
A weary Molly opened, and in the background my exhausted husband lay in bed.
As a proper lady, I turned back home in silence, my mind refusing to settle. Thomas, who had once called Molly a slovenly scullion, was now intimately involved with her!
Honestly, I found it hard to feel jealous of the kitchen maid. When Thomas rushed after me, I pointed disdainfully toward the bathroom.
Take a shower, wash yourself thoroughly. Amused? Ill tell Edward everything. Hell have a word for you, I threatened, laughing to myself. I imagined the skinny Edward flailing his fists before Thomass stern face.
Molly later confessed her affair to Edward. I have no idea how the sturdy lorry driver reacted, but a week later that household moved out. As he saw me one last time, Edward said proudly,
Its no wonder. Who could resist my Molly?
Years passed. One day I met Muffin again.
Hello, old friend! Still holding a grudge? she laughed. Far as the eye can see, our village is a tangle of gossip. Ive lost nothing, and your husbands joy is mine. You travel so often you cant leave a hungry husband for long, Molly chided, echoing the rustic wisdom of our countryside. I turned away without answering, the scent of her cinnamon-sugar perfume lingering in the air like a taunt. The sun dipped low behind the row of cottages, casting long shadows that blurred the lines between past and present. Somewhere down the lane, a child laughedLucy, grown now, or perhaps just another child with no knowledge of our shared history. I walked on, buttoning my coat against the evening chill, wondering if betrayal ever truly fades or merely settles, quiet and stubborn, like dust on an heirloom shelf.
