“Now, Gwen, its not too late to have a baby at thirtynine,” my mother warned when she learned my daughter-tobe was expecting. “You didnt even keep your first pregnancy.”
“Dont worry, Mum, everything will be fine,” I replied, trying to sound confident.
She crossed herself, muttering, “Lord, give my girl a little happiness.”
I live with my mother in a modest cottage on the edge of a Suffolk village. Shes a spry sixtytwo, spends her mornings digging in the vegetable patch, and I help her mostly at weekends because Im a geography teacher and deputy head at the local primary school.
One early Saturday, before the heat of the June sun took hold, I headed out to weed the beds. The summer had arrived with a dry, oppressive heat.
“Morning, Lucy,” called a voice from next door.
It was Agnes, the neighbour across the lane. She wasnt originally from here; she married Michael, who brought her over from the north where hed been stationed in the army. Theyd met while he was on duty, married, and shed come to us already expecting.
“Hi, Agnes,” I answered.
“Did you hear? Aunt Veras son is back in town,” Michael had told me, “and his old schoolmate Oliver has turned up too.” Id never seen Oliver before; hed stopped by our cottage the evening before.
I straightened up and leaned against the wooden rail of the garden fence.
“Oliver, you say? Whats he doing here?”
“Yes, hes on leave,” Michael replied. “Hes the only son of Aunt Verashe does have a daughter, though.”
“Olivia, right? Shes his older sister,” I added.
“Hes not just on a short break; hes thinking of settling here for good,” Michael continued. “He spent years in the army, first out in the far north of England, then up in the Scottish Highlands. Hes retired now, getting his state pension. Hes looking to take over an abandoned farmstead and set up some polytunnels.”
“Did he come with his wife?” I asked.
“No, hes divorced,” Michael said. “So our ladies are left on their own, and the younger ones are starting to freshen up their looks. Soon theyll be fussing over Aunt Veras garden for urgent matters,” Agnes laughed, waving a hand as she walked away.
I took a deep breath.
“Agnes doesnt count me in when she talks about younger brides,” I thought. “She doesnt know I once fancied Oliver. I ended up marrying Simon instead. It wasnt my choice who I should have married.”
Simon and I lived just down the lane, while Oliver was a few streets away. The three of us had been friends since we were children; Oliver was a year older than me but always the smallest. Simon teased him, calling him little Ollie, but Oliver never took offense. He defended his mates and never let anything get under his skin. By the time he turned sixteen, hed shot up, his shoulders broadening, and he towered over Simon.
“See how little Ollie has grown, now taller than Simon,” wed joke.
Simon remained the joker of the group, always ready with a quick quip. As we grew older, our friendship held. We swapped river swims and fishing trips for nights at the local dance hall and trips to the cinema.
I, once an awkward lass, turned into a proper beauty. The other girls envied me whenever I strutted into the hall with two handsome lads by my side. Whispers trailed behind us, wondering which of the two Id choose. Oliver was the solid, dependable type; Simon was the merry, carefree sort.
Oliver had finished school early, never went to university, trained as a driver, then rejoined the army.
“All right, lads,” hed say, clasping Simons shoulder, “Ill keep writing, and you write back.”
“Of course, Ollie,” Simon replied, grinning.
“And Ill follow you into the service,” I added, laughing.
Oliver wrote letters, and Simon and I replied. Later, I saw Simon off when he was called up.
Soon after, Olivers letters stopped coming altogether.
“Aunt Vera, why isnt Oliver writing?” I asked his mother. “He used to write all the time, and hes due to finish his service soon.”
“Oh, darling,” Vera sighed, “Olivers signed a longterm contract and will stay in the army, so he wont be coming back for a while.”
I felt a sting of disappointment. Hed said nothing, and Id been waiting, hoping.
No one knew Id already decided I wanted to marry Oliver, even though he didnt know it. Simons letters continued for a while, then fell silent too. Simons mother told me her son had been wounded in a hot spot overseas and was now recovering in a hospital.
“Why isnt he writing?” I asked.
“Hes not allowed to,” his mother explained, “but a letter came saying the wound was minor. Hes likely just reassuring me. Hell be discharged soon, and I wanted to visit him.”
I was in the dark about most of it. I didnt know that Simon had written to Oliver when he was called up, and that Id sent Simon off to the army. Simon never made any promises, but he loved me so much that life without me seemed impossible. From his hospital bed he wrote, Youll understand later, Oliver, what happened to me I still love Lucy and want to marry her. I realized it when I was a heartbeat from death. Ill go home and propose, and I hope youll help, as youre my friend.
None of that reached Oliver. When Simon finally returned, he blurted out, Well, Lucy, when shall we start sending matchmakers? I shrugged, joking, Theres no one else, so when Oliver comes back maybe well wait.
Actually, hell be here in two days, just passing through, his parents will see him, Simon added.
I was alone for a spell. Oliver did come, and the three of us gathered like old times.
This evening Ill get it all sorted, once and for all, I decided.
The night didnt go as Id hoped. Conversation faltered, jokes fell flat, Oliver was unusually quiet. When everyone left, I chased after Oliver and caught him near the gate.
Simon wants to propose to me? He dreams of marrying me, I said.
I know
And what about you, how do you feel about me?
It doesnt matter now. Hes decided to marry you, and I wont stand in the way.
So youve all decided for me without asking me. Maybe I love you, not Simon, I shouted, then ran home.
I hoped Oliver would stop me, but he didnt. The next morning I learned hed left town.
Eventually I gave my consent to Simon, and we were married. The marriage never blossomed. After a while I became pregnant, but I couldnt carry the child to term, and we never had children again.
Simon sensed my lack of love, began drinking heavily, and got into arguments. He shouldnt have been drinking after his serious wound, but he didnt care. We lived like neighbours, and soon Simon moved up to the North, where he died in a car crash.
I stood in my cottage before the mirror when a tall, broadshouldered man entered the front gate. Oliver had served in the north of England, then in the Highlands. He never returned to his home village, buying his parents seaside holidays instead, meeting them there. His marriage fell apart quickly.
None of us three ever managed a smooth life. Though I once had a choice, the others decided for me.
I was adjusting my hair in front of the window when the gate opened and a stately man stepped in. I instantly recognized Oliver; my heart hammered. I smoothed my hair and stepped onto the porch.
Good thing Mums gone to the shop, I thought, I should invite him inside before the whole village starts gossiping.
Hello, why are you here? I said dryly, trying to sound serious.
He stood there, looking healthier and more handsome than ever, his gaze steady and intense, making me feel oddly uneasy.
Just wanted to talk, if thats alright, Oliver stammered slightly.
Come in, youve been out for ages, I replied.
He placed a neat parcel on the table.
Its a gift for you, he said.
Why now? Not when I was waiting for you?
I was on my way, but Simon stopped me. He said if you didnt marry him, he wouldnt live. He begged me to leave quickly. I understood him, especially after his injury, he could do anything.
Why didnt anyone think of me?
Lucy, Im sorry. I loved you deeply, and I never wanted to hurt a friend. I still love you, he said, stepping forward and pulling me into a firm embrace.
Since then weve lived together, married, and Im expecting again.
Soon a son was born, and we named him Simon, after the friend who once stood beside us. Hes a robust little lad, a true little ladlike his father.
