Its a shame to feel Ive lived my life all wrong.
I really ought to pop to the shop, I mused this morning, barely any salt left, and were low on sugar too. I glanced at the clock: half eleven. My husband William wont be home for ages yet, hes driven his old Ford into Norwich to the market with milk and cream to sell.
Our daughter Emily and her husband havent visited in ages. The chickens have laid such a pile of eggs lately, so I packed a hundred or so into Williams car with the rest to sell.
Drive safe, Will, Id said. Dont shake up those eggs, mind. And watch the bottles of milk
I know, I know, William grumbled. Not my first rodeo.
Weve always lived in our village, William and I. Raised two children: Emily, who lives nearby with her clan, and our son Peter, who settled down in the next county. I cant say I was ever truly happy with William, though. Marriage was a gauntlet in my youth.
William always was a looker; lonely women especially never let him walk past without a word or an invite for tea supposedly a laugh, but theres a grain of truth in every joke. William had a weakness for it, too, never refusing if opportunity knocked.
I suspected he was unfaithful for years, though he always had an excuse for why he came home late.
Just lingering with the chaps behind the village hall few drinks, the usual banter, you know how it is.
Another day it was,
Old Mike at work needed logs moving in his garden, invited me in after for a cuppa. You know how it goes.
But news spreads like wildfire in our village. One afternoon, my old school friend Anna popped in, all in a rush.
Lizzie, are you blind to how Maggies hanging onto your William? Hes ducking into her garden every other day. The whole village sees it, only you pretend otherwise, she rattled, barely pausing for breath.
I know nothing of the sort, Anna! If Wills late, he tells me where hes been. I trust him, I replied, though deep down I sensed I wasnt just making it up.
I wouldnt if I were you. Men always have their tales, as they say all hat and no cattle, she scoffed. With Maggie its a regular circus, and everyone knows her sort. Right, I must dash, dont let on I told you. Off she went in a hurry.
That evening William came home on time for once, and I couldnt resist:
Back early tonight whats wrong? Maggie not entertaining?
William looked floored, but quickly gathered himself.
“Blimey, what gave you that idea? Dont listen to village gossips, they natter like crows.
Oh, gossip, is it? Well, Ill be watching your every step from now on, so mind yourself. Step out of line and youre out on your ear, got it?
Ooh, frightening! Not like Im ever out of sight, he said with a shrug. But I could tell he was rattled. I could almost hear him thinking: best lay off with Maggie, not worth losing home and family over.
William had his flings before, a dalliance here and there, but this one with Maggie lingered for over a month. Even the lads at work had started making digs. He was getting on, and if I threw him out, where would he go? He never saw Maggie as family material anyway.
Truth be told, I didnt want to divorce William. Hes handy about the house, works hard, keeps the garden tidy, brings in the hay, and still finds time regrettably for other escapades. But he did calm down after all that fuss. Briefly, he told Maggie:
Thats it, Maggie, cant come round anymore. Lizzies found out, and youll get it in the neck too.
Men these days, scared of their wives Maggie scoffed, Well, stay home with her if you must. Plenty more blokes in this village anyway. Does me no harm.
That was the end of it. William stopped his wanderings and started coming home on time. I calmed myself eventually. Never much cared for Maggie; if we ever crossed in the street, Id look the other way. Family life settled down, all in all. Sure, sometimes a sore feeling bubbled up, but I quickly snuffed it out.
Today I grabbed my shopping bag my trusted old tartan number and headed out. Shops just round the corner, and the lane was empty. Inside, three of the village women were chattering away, and Nina the shopkeeper gave me a long look as she weighed out some boiled sweets.
Heard the news? Maggies dead. Passed away in the early hours. Least her daughter made it over in time lives not far off.
I could hardly believe it, though I knew shed been sick for a while. Stopped coming to the shop herself, relied on Vera to fetch her groceries. I hadnt bothered about Maggie’s business lately, nor did I know shed been confined to bed. She lived at the far end of the village.
A shock, that, I said once Id caught my breath, as the other ladies all talked at once.
Yes indeed, pipes up old Mrs. Jenkins (we called her that though she wasnt terribly old). Hear from Vera she told everyone. Maggie always lived in a hurry, went after every man in sight, stirred up endless rows in half the houses around here. Reckon she lost all shame lately, parading around with that married chap right in front of his wife.
Now, now ladies, lets show some respect for the dead, said kind Mrs. Angela Simmons, whod taught at the local school years ago. Whats done is done, may she rest in peace. Well all join her one day. She made the sign of the cross, ever so quietly, and slipped out.
I could barely take it in.
I walked home deep in thought. Maggie was at least ten years my junior. Shed wed early, no one ever understood why. Her mother insisted she marry Thomas from the next village, wanting to keep her close.
Marry Thomas, darling helps his mum, hands-on chap. Ive arranged it all, her mother told her.
But Mum, I hardly know him. We havent even met.
“Dont worry, youll manage.”
The wedding went ahead. Thomas lot were decent enough, but he himself was restless hence his mothers hurry to marry him off. Never made Maggie happy. He drank, made scenes, even struck her while she was pregnant. His father intervened, but it never lasted long.
Be patient with him, love, his mother begged. Maybe hell settle down, drinks no good for him.
She gave birth to a daughter. Her in-laws treated her kindly, but Thomas was hopeless.
They were married three years before tragedy struck. Thomas, drunk as a lord, wrecked his tractor and died in the crash.
Maggie went back home with her little girl to her mothers. She swore shed never remarry. Thats it, Ive had enough. My girls all I need.
At first, she stayed in with her daughter, turned down invitations to parties, weddings, dances at the village hall. Cant blame her really while her classmates were still building families, she was a widow with a child and little to show for it. Not that anyone begrudged her, everyones got problems.
Our classmates lives went every which way: some got lucky in love, some split up, some battled hardship, some started drinking. Only Maggie stuck to her word: never remarried, though she was pretty and capable.
Despite remaining single, she was never alone. Men always circled, sneaking over when their wives werent looking, and sometimes the wives would storm over for a shouting match.
Took it all in her stride, did Maggie, brushing off any fuss and inviting new blokes around before long.
She looked after herself above all else. Her daughter grew up and moved to the city, married there and rarely visited. Maggie never had a proper job, spent her holidays at seaside resorts, and never spoke of the fun she had. Didnt have real friends either; most women kept away, refused to talk to her.
Lately, shed been seeing Paul from the next street, a married man. Started as a secret but soon everyone saw them arm in arm. Paul’s wife, Rachel, was quiet and homely, never set foot in the shop Paul did all the errands himself, handled the money as he liked.
Pick up some bread, Paul, and were out of sunflower oil. Low on sugar too, Rachel would say, and hed bring everything home himself.
Maggie knew Rachel was too meek to put up a fight, so she acted with no shame. The villagers never understood Pauls fascination Rachel was the beauty, while Maggie forced her way in.
I once saw Maggie and Paul walking together from the post office. Poor Rachel; she must cry herself to sleep knowing full well about her husbands affair. And they werent exactly subtle. I dreaded being in her shoes. At least when William had his fling, it ended quickly. But Paul had no shame.
Now, Maggies gone. People whispered through the village:
Why would Maggie, who seemed to live without a care, die of such a dreadful illness? Must be the Lords punishment.
But illness plays no favourites. It just comes, and that’s that. Some leave this world early; others live to see great-grandchildren. I hold no anger for Maggie. Shes gone, and thats that. I suppose all I really hope for is to live in a way that leaves something beautiful behind good memories, not bitter ones. How sad, when youre only remembered in whispers.
