True friendship between women can be as solid as steel, but its rare to find a mate you can call a lifelong confidante. Margaret Collins had her own tale to tell.
Alright, love, thatll be it for today, she said, smiling. My husband will be home from work soon, and I havent even started dinner. Give me a call as soon as you know your travel dates, and give your husband a kiss for me! Margaret hung up in high spirits; her friends husband was planning a trip to visit their daughter in France, meaning a reunion was just around the corner.
Its such a shame that Emily lives so far away now, and everythings become so expensive and complicated, Margaret sighed again. At least we can chat on the phone and have a proper natter.
Even though they met only sporadically and led very different lives, conversation between Margaret and Emily always flowed as if theyd never been apart. Most of the women Margaret made friends with after moving abroad never enjoyed that effortless banter. Youd think that sharing the same social circle, attending the same events, and travelling to the same destinations would give you endless material to talk about. Yet many conversations felt forced, and Margaret had no patience for empty chatter.
Margaret and Emily had known each other since first grade, but their true bond only blossomed after Margaret left England for a job overseas. At school they each kept to their own little world, barely overlapping, though Margaret always dreamed of a proper friendone straight out of the novels.
Writers never lie; they simply lift their plots from real life, unless theyre writing fantasy, right?
Theres a common belief, reinforced by countless jokes, that womens friendships dont exist, that only men forge strong bonds. But what does a male friendship even look like? Going to a football match together, helping each other move heavy furniture, swapping political opinions, maybe lending a few quid They never really pour their souls out to each other. At best they vent about a spouse or a boss.
Margaret, however, split female companionship into two categories: acquaintances and true friends. She always had a crowd of acquaintances with whom she could chat about fashion, health, books, films, travel, home life, parenting and caring for elderly parentsalways on a surface level.
A true friend, on the other hand, is someone you can be yourself with, who will listen to your deepest secrets without a hint of ridicule, and who will rush to your side at a moments noticerain or shine, bottle of wine in hand or notwiping away your tears and listening to the same story in a dozen variations.
Margaret was certain such a friend existed because she would behave that way herself. Sometimes, of course, she couldnt dash to the rescue at nightfirst her parents, then her husband would stop her. But otherwise she was always ready to lend a hand.
After a long, winding road she finally discovered that friend in Emily. Their journey wasnt without mistakes and disappointments. In a flat share shed had since childhood, a broken walking dollgifted by her parents for her birthdayhad sparked a fight when a cousin, playing house, soaked the doll in water and ruined it. Margaret was blamed, Emily didnt defend her, and that chapter closed. Later, an American friend cut ties over a trivial slight, despite years of shared hardships and heartfelt apologies.
The most notorious pretender, however, was Lucy Harper. Lucy had joined their class in Year Two and slipped instantly into the group. She was short and stout, with tightly curled hair braided into a thick plait. Where her looks fell short, her boundless energy, selfconfidence, and boisterous laughhalf contagious, half a snortmade up for it.
The girls quickly became close, living on the same block and taking the same tube home. They started a little ritual: each day, on the way to the station, theyd buy a singlescoop ice cream cone from a stall. Lucy almost never paid; her mum gave her a single pound a week with the advice, Spend it wisely, love. Margaret, however, believed friends shouldnt keep tabs on pennies.
That daily treat hardened their oncesensitive bodies; colds rarely touched them, and their parents even enrolled them in a swimming club they attended together after school. They did everything side by sidewent to the cinema, the theatre, galleries. If Margaret didnt like a particular artist, Lucy would declare, You just havent grown into it yet. They spent summers at youth camps, joined dance and art classes. Margaret loved drawing but quit after Lucy dismissed her pigeon sketch, calling it a cow painted in oil and therefore superior.
Both fell for the same boy in primary school, swore theyd love each other no more, only to discover Lucy still harboured secret hopes. Their grandparents, barely involved, cautioned, Stay away from that Lucy, shell be jealous. Margaret retorted, Grandma, you dont know usyoure not our friends!
Lucy often let Margaret take the lead, accepted harsh judgments and chronic lateness, seeing these as trivial compared with the certainty that Lucy would stand like a rock for her. Once, Lucy even told a classmate who was courting Margaret that he wasnt right for her, which Margaret chalked up to Lucys overprotective streak.
Later, when Margarets mother, a psychologist, harshly criticised her budding romance with a fellow student, Lucy soothed the crying girl and defended her fiercely. Their friendship survived university choices, tempting new crowds, weddings where each was the others bridesmaid, and the birth of their first children.
Time pulled them to opposite corners of the globe: Margaret to the United States, Lucy to Italy. Contact dwindled for years until they unexpectedly met in Brussels. The initial excitement turned to bewilderment when Margaret learned Lucy had visited the US many times since she left but never let anyone know. Lucy bragged about a fling with Margarets most ardent admirer, trying to spill intimate details that Margaret never wanted to hear. The sting was sharp, yet the reunion also brought Emilynewly arrived from Manchesterand old grievances were tucked away, if not fully forgotten.
A few more years of lazy email exchanges and occasional meetups followed. Lucy divorced and kept looking for a new partner, while Margarets marriage was on the rocks, though their children grew, and they convinced themselves they just had to endure. Eventually the strain became unbearable.
A former acquaintance resurfaced, sparking a correspondence that led to a chance meeting at a medical conference. Old memories resurfaced, and the affair ended predictably in bed. A brief love affair began. Margaret felt ashamed but also alive with new colour; she couldnt, and didnt want to, stop it.
Their meetings were raresometimes she slipped away for a conference, sometimes he was on a business trip. One day, the lover suggested a daring plan: meet in Israel, where both had relatives, with Lucy covering the backup. The scheme was shaky from the start, but they took the risk. Lucy cheered them on, even offering to join, only to be dismissed.
They toured fashionable galleries, dined in upscale restaurantsLucy chose the venues, he footed the bill. Everything went smoothly until they booked a threeday seaside escape to Eilat. Lucy packed, hoping to be invited, but the lover refused to pay for her. Why do we need a blacksmith? he asked, and left Lucy behind in Jerusalem, inventing excuses for his wife on the phone.
Three days flew by. When the sunkissed lovers returned to Jerusalem, Lucy called, breathless: Your husband called me last night. He caught me off guard, I was flustered, tried to calm him, but he seemed to know everything already. Better that way, or youd never have decided. The call was followed by a long, painful reconciliation with Margarets husband, a marriage patched together for a few more years.
What about Lucy? She refused to admit any fault, convinced shed done Margaret a favour. Margaret never touched the subject again. They still exchange occasional messages, but never invite each other to weddings, and they no longer meet.
One evening Margarets phone pinged: Google Photos had compiled a new album of pictures she and Emily had taken together over the years. Theyre reading our minds, she muttered, but then she smiled, letting the memories wash over her. There really is such a thing as true friendship, she thought, feeling a warm relief.
In the end, the story reminds us that genuine friendship isnt measured by the frequency of meetings or the perfection of moments, but by the willingness to stand by each other through every twist, to forgive, and to cherish the shared historyeven when life pulls us apart. True friends are the mirrors that reflect our best selves, and the anchors that keep us steady when the worlds tides shift.
