It was a crisp autumn afternoon when Margaret hurried into the hospital ward, clutching a paper bag of apples and pears. Her heart had nearly stopped when shed heard the news from her dear friends daughter.
“Alice, my love, you gave me such a fright!” Margaret exclaimed, her voice trembling as she approached the bed by the window. Alice lay pale but smiling, her hand outstretched in greeting.
“Oh, Maggie, thank goodness youve come! Ive been dreadfully bored in here,” Alice admitted, squeezing her friends fingers.
Margaret set the fruit on the bedside table and glanced around. The ward held four beds, though only two were occupied. On the neighbouring bed lay a woman with long silver hair, neatly braided, her back turned to them.
“Whos your neighbour?” Margaret whispered, settling into the chair beside Alice.
“Brought in yesterday,” Alice murmured. “Elizabeth, I think. Quiet as a mousejust reads her books or watches things on her phone. They say her blood pressures as unreliable as my heart.”
Just then, the woman turnedand Margaret felt the breath leave her lungs. Those familiar hazel eyes, the delicate features unchanged by time, the small mole on her left cheek…
“Elizabeth?” Margaret gasped, barely believing her own eyes. “Elizabeth Whitmore?”
The woman froze, then slowly sat up, staring at Margaret as if seeing a ghost.
“Margaret Spencer?” Her voice carried the same intonation from thirty years past. “Good Lord, it cant be…”
Alices gaze darted between them. “Do you two know each other?”
Margarets fingers clenched into fists. “Oh yes. Very well indeed.”
An awkward silence fell. Elizabeth lowered her eyes, while Margaret studied her, half-convinced she might vanish.
“Girls, what on earth is going on?” Alice demanded. “Maggie, you look like youve seen a spectre!”
“Almost,” Margaret admitted softly. “Elizabeth and I… havent spoken in a very long time.”
“Thirty-two years,” Elizabeth added quietly.
Alice gasped. “School friends, then?”
“Not exactly friends,” Margaret said stiffly, perching on the edge of her chair. “We… had shared interests once.”
Elizabeth lifted her gaze then, meeting Margarets eyes for the first time. “How is Edward?”
Margarets knuckles whitened. “My husband passed eight years ago. A heart attack.”
“Im so sorry,” Elizabeth whispered. “I didnt know.”
Margaret waved a dismissive hand. “Life is what it is.”
Alices curiosity was unbearable. “Out with it, then! How do you know each other?”
Margaret and Elizabeth exchanged a glanceneither eager to dredge up the past.
“We worked together,” Margaret said at last. “At St. Marys. I taught English, and Elizabeth”
“History,” Elizabeth finished. “And civics.”
“Colleagues,” Margaret explained to Alice. “Though not for long.”
“Two years,” Elizabeth agreed.
“Did you quarrel over work?” Alice pressed.
“Over a man,” Margaret said bluntly. “The oldest story in the book.”
Elizabeth flinched as if struck.
“Maggie, please”
“Why not?” Margaret turned to her. “Alice wont rest until she knows. And after all this time, what does it matter?”
Elizabeth gave a faint nod.
“Go on, then!” Alice urged. “Ill burst if you dont!”
Margaret leaned back, staring out the window. “I was twenty-four. Fresh out of teachers college, assigned to St. Marysyoung, foolish, and terribly in love with the deputy headmaster. Edward Whitmore. Handsome, clever, a decade older than me. Married, of course.”
“Oh dear,” Alice murmured.
“Precisely,” Margaret said dryly. “We began an affair. Secret, naturally. He spun tales of a loveless marriageall the usual lies married men tell.”
Elizabeth listened in silence, her expression unreadable.
“Then another young teacher arrived,” Margaret continued. “Elizabeth. Bright, beautiful, charming. And Edward, it seemed, decided one mistress wasnt enough.”
“Maggie, thats not how it was”
“No?” Margarets smile was bitter. “You knew about us! I told you myself! We were friends!”
“We were,” Elizabeth admitted softly. “And I never meant to… It just happened.”
“Happened?” Margaret echoed. “You stole him from me.”
Alices head swivelled between them like a spectator at Wimbledon.
“I didnt steal him,” Elizabeth said, firmer now. “He told me you were only a passing flingthat you understood it meant nothing.”
Margaret laugheda sharp, mirthless sound. “The lying snake! He told me you were some flighty girl chasing after married men!”
Elizabeth went pale. “He said that?”
“Word for word! And we both believed him! Fell right into his trap!”
“Girls,” Alice interjected nervously, “perhaps you shouldnt agitate yourselves? Your conditions”
“Were fine,” Margaret assured her. “Actually, its rather liberating to finally air this.”
She turned back to Elizabeth. “What happened after I left?”
“Three more months of meetings,” Elizabeth admitted. “Then he claimed his wife was suspicious. The trysts grew fewer, then stopped. By terms end, I learned hed divorced.”
“Divorced?” Margaret blinked. “I didnt know that.”
“Divorcedand married to the gym instructor from St. Johns within a month. Turns out theyd been carrying on for half a year.”
“Well,” Margaret said with a wry shake of her head, “there were three of us, then. Perhaps more.”
“Likely more,” Elizabeth agreed. “Thats when I realised what a fool Id beenhow ashamed I was for what Id done to you.”
“To me?” Margaret leaned forward. “We were both his victims!”
“But I believed him! Saw how you looked at him, how crushed you were when he was cold to you in public… I knew you loved him!”
Margaret was silent a long moment. “I did. Deeply.”
“So did I,” Elizabeth confessed. “My first real love. I thought he felt the same.”
“We were fools,” Margaret sighed. “Young and foolish.”
Alice sniffled. “Oh, you poor dears! To lose so much over that… that scoundrel!”
“Youth and folly,” Margaret said. “I thought Elizabeth had betrayed me. That friends didnt do such things.”
“And I thought if you didnt truly care for him, I wasnt wrong,” Elizabeth added. “But when he pursued me, I believed I mattered more.”
“You did,” Margaret nodded. “Until the next woman mattered more.”
A soft rain pattered against the window as they fell quiet.
“Did you remarry?” Margaret asked eventually.
“I did,” Elizabeth said. “Three years later. A good manhonest. We had twenty-eight years together.”
“Had?”
“Passed two years ago. Cancer.” Elizabeth dabbed her eyes. “A kind man. Steady.”
“Im sorry,” Margaret said, touching her shoulder.
Elizabeth covered her hand. “How could you know? We hadnt spoken.”
“Children?”
“A son and daughter. Grown now, with three grandchildren. You?”
“Two boys. Four grandchildren. Edward was a decent father, Ill give him that.”
“So you married him after all?” Elizabeth looked surprised.
“Four years later. We met at an education conference. He pretended wed never metthe audacity!”
“And you?”
“What could I do?” Margaret chuckled. “I fell for him all over again. He was divorced from the gym teacher by thenclaimed hed matured, seen his mistakes… The old fool I was.”
“Was it happy?”
“In its way. Hed lost his looks, his charmbut hed settled. Perhaps tired of chasing.”
“Did he…?” Elizabeth hesitated.
“Stray? At first. But I wasnt that naive girl anymore. Put a stop to it. The last fifteen years, I believe he was faithful.”
“So there was happiness?”
“There was,” Margaret agreed. “Not the grand romance Id dreamed of, but happiness. And you?”
“Quiet contentment. My William was nothing like Edward. Reserved, practical. An engineer who tinkered with gadgets. No poetry, but utter dependability.”
“As it should be,” Margaret mused. “Romance fadeslife remains.”
Alice, who had listened tearfully, suddenly burst out, “Oh, what a waste! All those years lost over that cad! You couldve been friends, watched your children grow, shared grandchildren…”
Margaret and Elizabeth exchanged a glance.
“Shes right,” Margaret said. “We lost so muchand for what? A man who deceived us both.”
“I carried the shame for years,” Elizabeth admitted. “Dreaded seeing youthought you still hated me.”
“And I thought you hated me for marrying him.”
“Rubbish!” Alice exclaimed. “
