**The Bouquet**
Vera lay with her eyes half-closed. Across the narrow room, on the other bed, sat Holly, legs crossed, reading aloud from a textbook. Suddenly, Vera’s phone blared a popular ringtone. Holly snapped her book shut and glared at her friend.
With a sigh, Vera answered. A moment later, she bolted upright, tossed her phone aside, and began darting around the cramped dorm room, cramming clothes into a gym bag.
“Where are you off to? What’s happened?” Holly asked, frowning.
“Mrs. Jenkins next door called—Mum’s been rushed to hospital. Heart attack.” Vera zipped the bag shut and hurried to the door where their coats hung and boots lay scattered.
“But we’ve got an exam tomorrow! She’s in good hands—just take it and go after,” Holly argued, watching as Vera tugged on her boots.
“Listen, Holl, sort it out with the faculty office. I’ll make up the exams during break. My bus leaves in forty minutes,” Vera said, fastening her coat.
“Call me when you know more,” Holly called—but Vera was already out the door, the clatter of her heels fading down the hallway.
Shrugging, Holly turned back—then spotted Vera’s phone charger on the bed. She snatched it up, dashed barefoot into the hall.
“Vera! Wait!” she shouted, skipping steps down the staircase.
The front door slammed below. Holly vaulted the last few steps, shoved the door open, and nearly tumbled outside after her.
“Vera!”
Her friend turned, saw the cable, and jogged back. “Thanks,” she muttered, then sprinted off again.
“Good grief, what’s all this racket? One nearly takes the door off, the other bolts outside barefoot—are you lot high?” The dorm supervisor, Mrs. Wilkins, stood up from her desk.
“Sorry, Mrs. Wilkins—Vera’s mum’s in hospital. It’s freezing—can I go?” Without waiting, Holly dashed back upstairs.
“Oh, heavens!” Mrs. Wilkins sank into her chair, crossing herself. “Lord have mercy!”
Back in the room, Holly dusted grit off her feet, tidied Vera’s mess, slipped on slippers, and filled the kettle. She needed tea—and to get back to studying.
A careful knock came at the door after dark.
“Who is it?” No answer.
Holly sighed, opened the door—and found Anthony standing there, clutching a small bouquet.
“Come in,” she said, stepping aside. Once he was inside, she added, “Vera’s gone home.”
“But she’s got an exam tomorrow.”
“I’ll sort it with the faculty—she’ll retake it after break.” Holly eyed the flowers.
“These are for you,” Anthony said, offering them.
“Thanks. Fancy a cuppa?” She took a vase from the windowsill.
“I’ll fetch water. Make yourself comfortable,” she added, slipping out.
Anthony only removed his shoes before sitting on Vera’s bed. He ran his hand over the cheap duvet, as if stroking her absence.
When Holly returned, she set the vase on the desk, stepped back to admire it.
“Lovely. What are they?”
“Sweet peas,” Anthony said. “I should go.” He stood.
“Did you and Vera have plans?” Holly asked quickly.
“Yeah. Got tickets to a gig.”
“Take me, then. No sense wasting them.”
Anthony hesitated. “You’ve got an exam.”
“So? I’ve been studying all day—I need a break.”
He wavered. Vera was gone, the tickets unused. They’d only just started dating—it wasn’t betrayal, was it?
“Alright,” he said.
Holly squealed, clapping. “Wait outside—I’ll get changed.”
Five minutes later, she emerged—mascara touched up, lips glossed, hair pinned neatly. How’d she managed so fast?
“Come on, we’ll miss it,” Anthony urged.
At the gig, Holly danced, arms raised, shouting along with the crowd, stealing glances at Anthony. He relaxed into her energy, cheering too.
Afterward, they walked back, buzzing about the show.
“That one song—” Holly hummed.
“Yeah! And when they—” Anthony echoed, mangling the lyrics.
At the dorm, Holly jiggled the locked door.
“Mrs. Wilkins is on duty—she’ll never let us in. What now?”
Anthony grabbed her hand, leading her around the building. Two girls were climbing through a ground-floor window. “Quick—follow them.”
He boosted Holly up; hands pulled her inside. Then—a shrill whistle.
“Hurry!” she hissed.
Anthony scrambled in just as the window snapped shut. The whistle faded. The room’s occupants giggled.
“Thanks—we’ll head up,” Anthony muttered, steering Holly out.
They bolted upstairs, collapsed into her room, laughing.
“I should go,” Anthony said, catching his breath.
The room was dark—they hadn’t flicked the light on.
“Stay. I fancy you. Really do,” Holly whispered, tilting her face up.
She pressed close, lips parted—
***
Vera returned to the quiet dorm at term’s end. Most students—Holly and Anthony included—were still away. She arranged her missed exam, presented the hospital note. The crisis had passed, but her mum remained there.
She scraped through the exam. Classes resumed—but Holly never came back, never answered calls. The faculty said she’d taken leave due to illness.
Soon, a new girl moved in. Studies, Anthony… No time to wonder about Holly. Before long, everyone forgot her. Anthony never told Vera about the gig—or what came after. It felt like a dream.
***
Twenty-one years later
“Mum, Dad, I’m home!” Their daughter—Anthony’s double—burst in.
“How’s uni?” he asked, lowering his paper.
“Let her change first,” Vera called from the kitchen.
At dinner, their daughter said, “Today, I met a girl at uni—everyone says we look identical.”
“Funny, that. They say everyone’s got a doppelgänger.” Vera passed the peas. “More?”
“Dad, you’ve got that look again.”
Anthony set his fork down. “Did you talk to her?”
“Of course. Her name’s Claire—Claire Bright. Weird, right?”
“Bright…” Vera frowned. “First year, I roomed with a Holly Bright. Left after term. Remember, Anthony?”
“Yeah. Holly Bright.” His voice was tight.
Anthony barely slept. Next morning, he phoned in sick—then drove to the old dorm.
“Claire Bright live here?” he asked the matron—a dead ringer for Mrs. Wilkins.
“Who’s asking?”
A girl descended the stairs.
“Bright—visitor,” the matron barked.
Claire eyed him warily. “Do I know you?”
“Your mum—was she Holly?”
Claire stiffened. “Yeah. September 25th… Wait. I think I know who you are. Where’ve you been?”
“Didn’t know. One night—just once. Your mum left uni after… I never guessed why.”
“She died giving birth. Grandma said it was Rhésus issues. She wouldn’t let Mum terminate. Regretted it after.”
Anthony handed her his card. “If you ever need anything.”
Claire smirked. “Worried your wife’ll find out?”
“No. I’ll tell her tonight.”
***
Vera listened in the darkened living room.
“Twenty-one years. Why now?”
“Because I saw Claire. If you can’t forgive me—”
“What then? Would you have married me?”
“No. I’d have stayed with Holly.”
Vera’s voice broke. “Why tell me?”
“Claire might’ve told our daughter. I wanted you to hear it from me.”
Their daughter took it well. “A sister? Brilliant! Will she live with us?”
Claire visited weeks later. Vera was polite but distant. The girls bonded instantly.
One evening, Anthony brought home flowers.
“What’s the occasion?” Vera asked, eyes bright.
“No reason.”
Eventually, Claire moved nearby after her grandma passed.
Vera and Anthony never spoke of it again—but neither forgot. Some things just linger.
