The rain drummed against the windowpane, tears of the sky trickling down the glass as if mirroring those in Margarets eyes. The song playing softly in the background”What Can You Do, Youve Found Another”pierced her heart as it always did, a bitter reminder of her own story. She scarcely noticed the tears rolling down her cheeks, lost in memories she could neither forget nor fully escape.
Theres a particular ache in knowing life has dealt you an unfair hand, yet being powerless to change it. Sometimes, one seeks solace even in the lyrics of a song, hoping to find some echo of comfort.
Margaret lived in a quiet market town in Yorkshire, the kind where everyone knew each others business. She had arrived years ago from a small village to study nursing and never left.
“Stay in the city after you finish, love,” her mother had urged. “Not because we dont want you, but theres nothing for you back here. The young all leavemake your life there. And if God wills it, youll meet a decent lad and settle down.”
“I know, Mum,” Margaret had replied. “Ill miss you, but its time to stand on my own feet.”
So she stayed, working as a nurse at the local hospital. She was prettythick chestnut hair, eyes like a summer sky, lips full and rosyand more than one envious glance followed her. One morning, as she entered the mens ward with an IV drip, she noticed a young man, his arm in a cast, watching her with open curiosity.
“Good morning,” she greeted the room, though to Robert, it felt as if she spoke only to him.
Hed been admitted the night before, but this was the first time theyd met. Robert worked at the towns only factory, having been sent there as a fresh graduate. A slip on the factory floora foolish misstep, arms flailinghad landed him on the concrete, leaving him with a broken arm.
Margaret adjusted his IV with practiced hands as he studied her, already certain he wanted to know her better. She said little but stole glances at him as well.
“There we are, just rest now,” she said.
“Will you come back?” he blurted. “Andwhats your name?”
“Of course, Im on duty. Its Margaret,” she replied before slipping out.
“Margaret,” he mused. “Well, this fracture might not be so bad after all.”
She liked him too but wouldnt dream of showing it first. Still, his lingering gaze told her enough.
“Not that it means anything,” she told herself. “A man like thathandsome, cleverprobably isnt alone.”
She watched for visitors. Friends, coworkersbut no women. That eased her mind. Meanwhile, Robert dreamed of walks together once discharged.
Hed linger in the corridor just to talk, and some evenings, they sat there chatting.
“Im not from here,” he told her. “Came for the factory job. Lived in a bedsit at first, but theyve given me a proper flat now. Still needs work, but its mine.”
“Lucky you,” she said. “Im stuck in a shared housenoisy, messy. Not ideal.”
Soon, Robert was discharged but still visited the clinic, and they began seeing each other properly. Yet two years passed before he proposed.
Margaret loved him fiercelyso much it frightened her. She barely breathed in his presence, terrified of even glancing at another man. But she waited, aching for him to ask. When he finally did, it was without fanfare.
“Margaret, weve been together long enough. Lets marry.”
“Lets,” she said at once, laughingrelieved hed finally spoken.
The wedding was small, as things were then. Her mother came from the village, his sisters from their town. Her friends envied her.
“Margaret, youve landed a proper catchclever, kind, and handsome too!”
They lived in his two-bedroom flat, fixed it up together, then had two daughters.
“Id like a son,” hed say, but she refused. Two were enough.
Life was good. Robert earned well; they took seaside holidays, visited her mother in the summerspicking mushrooms, swimming in the river, helping with haymaking. Even winters there were lovely, with sleigh rides and snow.
Then things changed.
His job demanded muchcall-outs even on weekends. One evening, he returned furious.
“Im quitting. I need proper rest, not this nonsense!”
His boss reluctantly let him goRobert was too skilled. He found another position, but it required travel.
“Margaret, Ill be away sometimes, but the pays worth it.”
“Well manage,” she said.
Years passed. His trips grew longerthree days, a week. Then she noticed the drinking, the late returns.
Fifteen years married, their girls nearly grown, she confronted him.
“Robert, whats happened to you? You never used to drink like this.”
“Leave off. Lifes dullIm just having a bit of fun.”
In a small town, whispers spread.
“Margaret, havent you noticed?” a coworker murmured. “Your Roberts been carrying on with Rita from the pub. Theyve been meeting for ageshe goes to her first after trips.”
Margarets stomach turned. More people confirmed it. They argued; he shouted:
“Enough of your nagging! Ill live as I please!”
The final straw came when he struck her.
“I want a divorce,” she said when the tears finally stopped.
Entering the room, she found him packing as that damning song played: *”What can you do, youve found another…”* The words cut deep. He took his bag and said quietly,
“Im leaving. The flats yours and the girls.”
She thought she had no tears left. She was wrong.
“Divorce,” she decided. “What am I now? Not a wife, not a widow.”
People condemned Robert. Margaret, still young and lovely, raised the girls alone. The first years were hard, but time dulled the pain.
Her eldest married and moved away.
“Mum, Ill never leave you,” the younger vowed.
“Lifes unpredictable, love. You might meet someone.”
She did.
“Mum, you were right!” her daughter laughed. “Paul proposedwere in love!”
“Im happy for you,” Margaret said, though the girl hesitated.
“But were moving to London. More opportunities there.”
Margaret forced a smile. “Go, darling. Just visit me.”
At the wedding, Robertstill in touch with his younger daughterspoke to Paul.
“Listen well, son. Stick with one family. No matter how hard it gets, endure it. Learn from my mistakes.”
Margaret overheard and thought, *So hes tasted regret too.*
Years later, the pain had faded. Some pitied her sincerely, others pretended to. She endured it all.
Now retired, shed see Robert occasionallyboth aged, the past no longer raw. What once felt like tragedy became mere drama, then indifference, even faint amusement.
Yet that song*”What can you do, youve found another…”*still brought tears. Not from grief, just sentimentality. Time had softened the edges, but some memories never fully fade.
